Joon-ho stepped out into the muggy Korean air, suitcase rolling behind him, the taxi pulling away with a quick wave from the driver. He stood for a moment in front of his apartment building, letting the sounds and scents settle over him—the distant drone of cicadas, car horns echoing off glass, a faint trace of grilling meat drifting on the breeze. The city was exactly as he'd left it, but after Barcelona, after nights tangled in heat and music and sweat, it felt almost new again. Home.
He took the elevator up, bags slung over one shoulder, his mind still flickering with images of sun-baked plazas and Valeria's wild laughter, the glittering gold of Ji-hye's medal held high. But underneath the excitement, something deeper pulsed: a steady longing, the simple ache of belonging somewhere, to someone.
The door swung open before he could fish out his keys. Min-kyung's voice called down the hall, bright and unmistakable, "He's here!"
