The sun was beginning to rise over the streets of Seoul, spilling a warm light that illuminated the narrow alleys and uniform buildings of the city. In the shadows of a relatively quiet neighborhood, Kairos began his daily routine. His apartment was small, almost minimalist, with just the necessary furniture: a bed, a desk, and a small table in the kitchen. Decoration was conspicuous by its absence, except for an old painting he had inherited from his mother and which always occupied the most prominent place on the wall.
There was something comforting in that simplicity. For someone who had spent so much time adjusting to life's unexpected changes, Kairos had learned to find peace in the things he could control, and his personal space was one of them.
Kairos woke up to the sound of his cheap watch. His routine was fixed: get up early, shower, prepare a simple breakfast, and go for a walk. He was a man of habits, not because he was obsessed with organization, but because he found stability in repetition. Breakfast, as always, consisted of toast with jam and a glass of water. Simple, but enough to start the day.
Dressed in a grey T-shirt and worn black trousers, Kairos took to the streets. He lived in a neighbourhood that could be described as "normal". It was neither particularly rich nor particularly poor, but it had a community feel to it that made it welcoming. Local businesses were just beginning to open their doors as the smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the smell of coffee emanating from small cafes.
As he walked, Kairos nodded to a few acquaintances in the neighbourhood. The owner of the grocery store, an older woman named Mrs Park, always complained about how little she ate. "A young man needs more energy," she would say as she arranged the products on the shelves. Kairos simply smiled, not inclined to argue.
There was something special about these superficial interactions, something that reminded him that even though he lived alone, he wasn't completely isolated. After all, he had learned to fend for himself from a young age. His mother, a hardworking and loving Korean woman, had been everything to him until her death when he was barely ten years old. The loss had been a hard blow, but it had also forced him to grow up quickly. Over time, he became self-sufficient, though he never let that independence make him bitter or distant.
His father, a Greek man whose figure was more myth than memory, had never been around. Kairos held no grudges toward him; he simply accepted that he had grown up with a different family than the conventional one. He often wondered what his life would have been like if both parents had been around, but those reflections never lasted long.
After his morning walk, Kairos returned to his apartment and got ready for work. He worked as an assistant at a small bookstore downtown. The pay wasn't high, but it allowed him to support himself. He also loved books and the silence that permeated the place. There was something special about being surrounded by stories, even if he would never read them all.
The bookstore, called "Eternal Pages," was a haven for book lovers. Although customers were not plentiful, there were always a few loyal ones looking for a classic or a trendy novel. Kairos felt comfortable working there, organizing shelves, recommending books, and keeping track of sales.
That day, while he was organizing a collection of philosophy books, a regular customer came in: Professor Han, a middle-aged man who taught literature at a nearby university.
"Kairos," the professor said in his kind but firm voice, "have you thought about one day reading those books you organize so well?"
Kairos smiled slightly as he placed a tome back in its place. "Maybe one day, professor. But for now, I like to leave them alone."
Professor Han laughed and continued browsing through the shelves. Kairos appreciated these little jokes and comments. Although he didn't seek deep connections with people, there was something reassuring about these casual interactions.
The day passed uneventfully, like most days in Kairos' life. After closing up the bookstore, he took a bus back home. The streets were quieter now, lit by the yellow lights of the streetlights.
Kairos stopped by a convenience store to buy something for dinner: some instant ramen and a bottle of water. As he waited in line, he felt a strange presence behind him. It wasn't something he could explain with words, but he had learned to trust his instincts. He turned slightly and noticed a tall man with an imposing aura. Although he didn't know him, there was something about his posture and gaze that made him stand out.
Kairos didn't say anything, he simply finished his purchase and left the store. As he walked to his apartment, he couldn't help but look back a few times, but there was no one following him. Maybe it was just his imagination.
Back at his apartment, he made ramen and ate it while listening to soft music. The night went by uneventfully, and before going to bed, he wrote a little in his black notebook. It wasn't exactly a diary, but he used to jot down random thoughts or things that had caught his attention during the day.
"I saw someone interesting today," he wrote. "I don't know who it was, but there was something about him that made me think he wasn't someone ordinary. I might never see him again."
With that thought, he closed the notebook and went to bed. Sleep soon came, taking him to a world where there were no routines or responsibilities, just a vast landscape of endless possibilities.
Kairos didn't know it, but his life, until now calm and ordinary, was about to change in ways he would never have imagined.