Nari's eyes blinked open to harsh sunlight cutting through the narrow window of a gray, cold cell. Her back ached against the thin mattress. Concrete walls, metal bars, a faint metallic tang in the air—this life was… different. Heavy. Wrong. But Nari was still Nari inside: curious, observant, alive.
Her wrist tingled. Charm bracelet—heart, star, white flower. Always hers. A small comfort in a place that felt entirely wrong.
She swung her legs over the cot, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The memories were hazy: why she was here, what she had—or hadn't—done. Something about being framed, a crime she didn't commit. Other inmates muttered quietly about the case, using words she half-understood. She exhaled slowly.
Okay. Chaewon.
She realized the name naturally: a guard shouted it during the morning headcount. "Chaewon, move along! Breakfast in ten minutes!"
Right. Chaewon. Got it.
Breakfast was a tense, quiet affair. Metal trays clanged on the tables. Porridge, dry bread, lukewarm tea. Other inmates eyed her with curiosity or suspicion. Nari mirrored their motions, careful not to stand out, small smiles here and there to disarm tension.
She noticed the tiny details that made her bright inside: the sunlight falling across the table, a single bird perched outside the barred window, the faint warmth of her bracelet against her wrist. Even in gray, beauty persisted.
After breakfast, a guard herded the women toward the yard. Today was special: volunteers from the public were coming to help with a cooking and lunch program for inmates, a rare chance for some fresh ingredients and a small change of routine.
Nari moved with the group, careful, alert. Her stomach tightened as the volunteers began arriving. Masks, aprons, clipboards, small smiles. And then she saw him.
Hanbin.
He was there, among the volunteers, handing out vegetables and instructing a few of the women on how to chop carefully. Same dark hair, same gentle eyes, same familiar curve of the lips. Even from across the room, her heart leapt.
No… this isn't possible, she whispered inside.
She froze, holding a carrot in her hand, pretending to slice it while staring, memorizing him in small glimpses. He didn't see her. He wasn't supposed to. Nari's chest tightened. She wanted to step forward, to speak, to call his name—but the guard's watchful eyes and the group of inmates pressed her into the role of careful observer.
Eight lives ago. Nine. Ten. Eleven. This is one of my chances, Nari reminded herself. I have to remember. Just… observe.
The morning passed in a blur of chopping, stirring, and careful coordination. Nari kept her movements precise, glancing at Hanbin whenever she could without being obvious. He smiled at another volunteer, handed out bowls, laughed lightly at a small mishap with a spilled sauce.
He's… still him, Nari thought, heart fluttering. Still the same person I'm looking for.
Small interactions among inmates and volunteers unfolded around her: a laugh here, a small complaint there, encouragements whispered. Nari navigated it all, quietly absorbing everything. She didn't speak to him. She didn't try. She simply watched, memorized, and smiled inwardly at the small connection, however fleeting.
Lunch arrived, and the food they had prepared together was set on tables. Nari carried trays carefully, passing them down the line. Hanbin moved gracefully among the volunteers, handing a bowl to a woman who looked overwhelmed. She caught a glimpse of his eyes meeting hers briefly across the line. A spark, subtle, like a flicker of recognition—but gone in an instant.
Her heart raced, but she smiled softly, pretending to adjust a tray while trying to remember every detail: the tilt of his head, the curve of his smile, the way his hands moved confidently but gently.
Afternoon was spent cleaning up. Nari washed dishes and wiped tables, moving silently, letting the world of the prison settle around her. Despite the harshness, she felt a quiet joy: she had seen him. Even for a moment, even at a distance.
The yard felt warmer now, the sun spilling across the gray concrete, making the shadows dance slightly. She noticed a small patch of grass near the fence, a single white flower blooming defiantly. She crouched and brushed her fingers against it. A smile tugged at her lips.
Another life. Another chance. One step closer.
Evening fell, soft pinks and purples bleeding across the sky visible through the window. Inmates returned to their cells, guards completed their rounds. Nari sat on the cot, exhausted, brushing hair from her face. She reflected on the day: the small chaos, the cooking, the laughter, the briefest brush with Hanbin, the way the flower stood stubbornly outside.
She knew this wasn't ideal, but she would go through anything to reach the person she wanted to reach the most..