The drive back to Seoul passed quietly, the hum of the tires blending with the steady rhythm of the highway. For long stretches, they said nothing, simply letting the landscape roll by—mountains fading into silhouettes, the horizon bleeding from soft twilight into the deep indigo of night. Every so often, Harin reached across the console, her fingers brushing against Joon-ho's hand as if to confirm his presence, her touch warm and grounding.
By the time the road narrowed and the distant orange glow of the city began to rise, the silence felt less like fatigue and more like comfort. Towers of glass and steel loomed closer, neon signs flashing alive, traffic thickening into the familiar chaos of Seoul. The rural quiet was gone, replaced by the restless pulse of the metropolis, but instead of weariness it brought a strange relief—like stepping back into their element.
