Han Ji-a handed me a dented bottle of water and sat beside me. No dramatic sigh, no words of comfort—just the weight of her presence and the faint creak of the old chair as she settled.
The silence between us wasn't awkward. It was… suffocating, like Seoul itself had wrapped its concrete hands around our throats.
The kind of silence that carried unsaid things, heavier than any monster we'd fought.
I cracked the cap open and took a sip, wincing as the cool water slid down my raw throat. "Thanks."
She nodded once, her expression calm—maybe too calm. Like it was practiced. But her eyes betrayed her. They carried something unspoken.
Worry. Guilt.
A shadow she didn't want me to see.
I hated that I saw it anyway.
I let a few heartbeats pass before breaking the quiet. "So… how've you been holding up in Seoul City? You know—besides the charming end-of-the-world décor."
