Adanna didn't know what surprised her more: how enormous Seoul felt, or how small she felt in it.
Back home in Lagos, the streets had their chaos blaring horns, impatient drivers, hawkers who would yell "sister, buy gala!" even if you'd walked past them every day for years. But Seoul's chaos was different. It was fast. Organized. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going, moving like streams of water in and out of subway stations.
Adanna, on the other hand, clutched her secondhand backpack and tried not to get swallowed.
Her Purple Jar was empty now. Every note and coin had been turned into this trip, this hostel, this chance. There was no backup plan if anything went wrong. She had to make each moment stretch.
That morning, she left the hostel earlier than necessary, holding onto her purple hoodie like a shield. The concert she had attended still pulsed in her chest, but it was the memory of that corridor ,Jinwoo's surprised eyes meeting hers , that kept her restless.
It had been so brief, so accidental. He might have already forgotten her. She, on the other hand, could still see the drops of sweat on his temple, the way his towel had been clenched in his hand, the sharp intake of breath when their eyes locked.
She scolded herself for replaying it. He was Jinwoo of Eclipse7, the center of countless fan dreams. She was Adanna, a girl who had scraped her life into a glass jar just to breathe the same air as him once. That was all it should have been.
Still, fate seemed to have its own sense of humor.
-
The day after the concert, Adanna wandered into a tiny corner café not far from the subway exit. She had read online that Seoul cafés were everywhere, but this one was small enough that her presence made the barista blink twice.
The bell above the door chimed softly. She ordered the cheapest thing on the menu , an iced Americano , and settled into a corner seat. Her sketchbook lay open on the table, filled with drawings of outfits inspired by Eclipse7's stage costumes. She didn't know if she'd ever show them to anyone, but sketching calmed her nerves.
Her pencil scratched quietly against the paper until the bell chimed again. She looked up.
And froze.
It was him. Jinwoo. Baseball cap, mask tugged low, plain hoodie. But even with half his face hidden, she knew. There was something about the way he carried himself , the way his eyes scanned the café quickly, assessing, before relaxing.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Don't look. Don't look.
She bent lower over her sketchbook. He wouldn't notice her, not here, not like this. She was just another customer.
But then came the voice. Low, polite. "One iced Americano, please."
She nearly laughed at the coincidence. Same order. Same everything. Fate was ridiculous.
When his drink was ready, he turned ,and for one terrifying moment, their eyes met across the café.
Adanna's first instinct was to look away, but something in his gaze held her still. Recognition flickered there. Not the way fans recognized idols, but the way one stranger recalls another from an odd circumstance.
He hesitated. Then, to her absolute horror, he walked toward her table.
"Do you mind?" His Korean accent wrapped gently around the English words.
Adanna's throat went dry. She managed a nod.
He slid into the chair across from her, setting his cup down. The brim of his cap shadowed his eyes, but not enough to hide the spark of curiosity.
"You're the girl from…" He paused, lowering his voice. "…the corridor."
Her stomach dropped. So he hadn't forgotten.
"Yes," she whispered, gripping her pencil like it could anchor her. "I, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to"
He raised a hand slightly, stopping her. "I know. It wasn't your fault."
Silence stretched. Adanna wanted to sink into the floor. But Jinwoo leaned forward, his elbow resting casually on the table.
"You didn't scream," he said.
She blinked. "What?"
"Back then. When you saw me. Most fans would've screamed, or pulled out a phone."
Adanna let out a nervous laugh. "I was too shocked to scream. And my phone… I dropped it somewhere between my heartbeat and the floor."
The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.
For a few minutes, they sipped their iced Americanos without speaking. The normality of it struck her hardest. Here he was, the Jinwoo , the voice that carried her through long nights, the face that lit up stadiums , sitting in a tiny café like any other young man.
Finally, he asked, "Are you visiting Seoul?"
"Yes," Adanna said carefully. "Just… for the concert."
"From?"
"Lagos. Nigeria."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "That's far."
She shrugged, masking the years of sacrifice behind a casual gesture. "Worth it."
Something softened in his eyes at that.
-
The conversation might have ended there, but Seoul had its own rhythm. The café's door opened again, and a group of fans entered, their laughter bright and familiar. Jinwoo stiffened.
Adanna noticed the way his hand twitched toward his cap, pulling it lower. She understood immediately. Without thinking, she shifted her sketchbook to shield his face, leaning slightly forward like she was showing him something private.
"Here," she whispered, flipping the page. "Look busy."
His eyes widened briefly before he caught on. He leaned in, studying her sketches like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
Her pencil lines trembled under his gaze. "You draw these?" he murmured.
"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "Just… ideas."
"They're good."
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Compliments were one thing; compliments from him were another universe entirely.
The fans ordered and left, never noticing. Jinwoo leaned back, relief washing over his features. His gaze lingered on her sketchbook a moment longer before he finally stood.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Adanna swallowed hard. "For what?"
"For not… making this harder than it already is." His voice carried a weight she didn't fully understand.
And just like that, he was gone , a bell chime, a shadow slipping back into the city.
-
That night, Adanna lay awake in her hostel bed, staring at the ceiling. She replayed every second of the café encounter until her mind buzzed.
It wasn't love. It wasn't even close. It was something quieter, stranger ,the recognition of two people caught in the same unexpected moment, both trying to protect something fragile.
She pulled her journal close and began to write.
"Letter #18: Today, I realised you're human. Not the idol on stage, not the face in the posters. Just a boy who wanted to drink coffee in peace. And maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about it. Because for a second, it felt like the world made room for both of us in the same corner."
She closed the journal, pressing it against her chest.
Tomorrow, she told herself, she would explore the city. Just the city. No more miracles, no more coincidences. She had already stretched fate far enough.
But Seoul, as always, had other plans.
-
Two days later, Adanna found herself lost again. She had taken the wrong subway line and ended up far from her intended stop. The crowd pressed in on all sides, announcements blaring in Korean she could barely follow.
She was fumbling with her map app when a voice spoke quietly beside her.
"You again."
Her head snapped up. Jinwoo. Mask, cap, hoodie. Same disguise, same city that was suddenly too small.
Her jaw dropped. "Are you following me?"
The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. "I could ask you the same."
Adanna shook her head, laughing despite herself. The absurdity of it all, Seoul, with its millions of people, and yet here they were, colliding like magnets.
"Where are you trying to go?" he asked.
She showed him her phone, the map app blinking confusedly. "Gyeongbokgung Palace."
He studied it, then nodded. "You're three stops the wrong way."
Her cheeks warmed. "Figures."
"I'll take you," he said simply.
And just like that, they boarded the train together, two strangers pretending not to notice how close their shoulders brushed. The ride was silent, but not uncomfortable.
When they surfaced near the palace, Adanna caught her breath. The wide courtyards, the sweeping roofs, the history carved into every stone , it was like stepping into another lifetime.
Jinwoo tugged his cap lower. "I can't go in with you."
"I know," she said softly.
But before they parted, he added, almost as an afterthought: "Be careful. Seoul is big. But sometimes… it's
smaller than you think."
Adanna carried those words with her through the palace gates, her heart both steady and restless.
Fate, it seemed, wasn't done with them yet.