The hum of Gimpo Airport was its own kind of music—rolling luggage wheels clattering on tile, boarding announcements echoing overhead, the murmur of conversations blending into a restless chorus. Joon-ho had grown used to noise, but today, with his ticket to Jeju in hand and his boarding pass tucked neatly into his jacket pocket, it felt sharper, more alive.
He'd already checked in, his single carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. With hours before boarding, his stomach tugged him toward coffee, and he found himself in line at Velvet Drip, one of Korea's premium coffee chains. The queue was short, but the eyes weren't.
Joon-ho had dressed well without overthinking—dark slacks fitted at the waist, a clean white button-down, and a tailored jacket. Effortless but sharp, a look that whispered more than it shouted. His posture did the rest, straight-backed, calm, self-assured. And it drew attention.
He could hear it before he saw it.
"Is he an actor?" one girl whispered behind him.
