đź“– Chapter 1: A Voice Carried by the Lagos Wind
To Jin, Nigeria wasn't just a business destination — it was pure curiosity.
As a devout Christian from Korea who traveled the world for work, he'd longed to visit Africa. He loved hearing stories of faith across cultures, and now, Lagos — the heart of Nigeria — was calling to him.
He checked into a hotel in Ikeja, the commercial center of the city. The noise, the colors, the music — everything moved fast, yet something about the city felt strangely familiar.
On Sunday morning, he made a simple request to his local guide:
> "I'd like to visit a local church. I want to see how Lagos worships."
The guide took him to a small neighborhood church nestled in a residential area. There were no cameras, no flashing lights — just hundreds of people clapping, dancing, and lifting their voices to the heavens.
It was joy in its purest form.
Then he heard it.
A woman's voice rose above the choir — soft like silk, yet full of deep emotion. She wasn't trying to impress. She was simply worshiping. Barefoot, eyes closed, she sang as if God Himself stood before her.
> "Lord, You are holy... I am Yours."
Jin sat frozen. It wasn't just beautiful. It was humble. Her voice seemed to carry wings, shaking the very aisles of the church.
> "Who is she?" he whispered.
But by the end of the service, she was gone.
No chance t
o say hello.
No way to find her.