Present Day – Seoul, Rainy Night
Yoorin couldn't sleep.
The city outside buzzed with sirens and neon light, but her mind was back in 1914—trapped in the skin of a girl who couldn't stop time.
She sat at her desk, the old letters spread out in front of her like puzzle pieces. Her laptop blinked, blank. No words came.
Until she picked up the one sealed in red wax.
She hadn't opened it before.
Now, her fingers broke the seal with a quiet snap.
August 9, 1914
My Hana,
I lied to you. I said I would return in spring.But I already knew I couldn't.
They told me today. I'm not going to Kyoto.I'm going to Osaka first. Then to Nagasaki. And from there... a ship.
China. Or Russia. I don't even know anymore.
Yoorin's hands trembled.
I'm writing this from the train. The sky is red tonight. I think the war is beginning.
I should have kissed you.I should have held you longer.
But I knew if I did—I wouldn't leave.
You are the reason I see beauty in the world. The reason I ever painted at all.
If this letter reaches you…
The rest was torn.Missing.Gone.
Yoorin stared at the jagged edge of the page. Her heart thundered.
He never made it back.
The almond tree… the painting… the silence that stretched across time—it all made sense now. He never returned. Not because he didn't want to.
But because he couldn't.
She stood suddenly. Pushed the chair back. Her eyes scanned the bookstore for something—anything.
And then she saw it.
A loose panel in the wall.
Inside?
A wooden box.
She pried it open with shaking hands.
There, on yellowed parchment:
To the one who lives again.
Finish the story.Let them remember us.
Inside the box was a single photograph.
Two people. 1914. A field of blossoms.
And at the bottom, in delicate handwriting:
"Seon & Hana – The girl who always came back."
Yoorin pressed it to her chest.
I will finish it.