Seina woke up with the sun shining directly in her face.
She grimaced and turned to the side, her cheek pressing against the door frame. The car was still moving. The noise from the road was constant, almost hypnotic — a low rumble mixed with the wind that came in through the crack in the window.
It took her a few seconds to remember where he was.
She settled herself on the bench, pulling up the thermal blanket her mother had thrown over her earlier. The fabric made that thin, cold, crumpling sound of plastic against the skin.
Through the window, the world passed by in a blur. Open fields, low hills, city signs she didn't immediately recognize. The sky was gray and heavy, as if it were about to rain again at any moment. The air inside the car smelled of stale coffee and her mother's cheap perfume.
In the front seat, the parents spoke quietly.
"...we can't go on like this," the mother said, her voice low but firm. "She disappeared for two whole weeks. Two. Without making a peep. Mokpo is a hole. Port, strange people, bad influence. She's getting lost there."
The father snorted, his fingers gripping the steering wheel.
"I already said. Let's change our route. Take the exit for Gwangju and head towards Seoul. It has everything: Nice apartment, private school, great neighborhood. Now that's a fresh start. And she'll have to adapt."
Seina felt her stomach churn. No. Not Seoul.
She knew the map by heart. Mokpo lay to the southwest, isolated, at the end of the line. Seoul was the opposite: central, noisy, crowded. More than 300 km away. An ocean of asphalt and buildings separated her from Thalya.
She took her cell phone out of her sweatshirt pocket. The screen lit up. Thalya's LINE was still there, saved as "Thalya 💜". Old messages were still there; she could send a message, anything. "Stay away from Malori. Please."
Before she could type the first letter, her mother turned around in her seat.
"Give it to me." Seina froze. "The cell phone."
"Mom, I…"
"No 'I'." Her voice hardened. "You're glued to that thing all day. That might be part of the problem. Hand it over."
Her father looked in the rearview mirror, his expression indicating no room for negotiation.
"Hand it over, Seina. Or I'll stop the car right now."
She pressed the device against her chest for a second. She thought about hiding it in her bra, saying she needed GPS, or shouting that she needed to talk to someone. But she saw the look in his mother's eyes — concern mixed with controlled anger.
She handed over the phone.
Her mother put it in the glove compartment and locked it. A dry click. Definitive.
Silence returned, heavier than the roar of the engine.
The Mokpo sign appeared on the left, distant, almost invisible on the bend in the road. The car took the exit for Gwangju. For Seoul. Far away.
Hours dragged on. The sky darkened. The rain intensified as the first skyscrapers appeared, as if Seoul were crying out for it.
The car entered the city shortly before the end of the afternoon.
Seina first noticed it through the windows of the buildings. Too much glass. Too many people. Signs, traffic lights, pedestrian crossings. Everything seemed to move too fast, as if the city was always running late for something.
Seoul.
She didn't say anything when her father announced their arrival in Seoul. She just looked out the window.
It was big. Much bigger than any place she had ever lived. Crowded streets, buses passing by, people rushing by as if the day were too short for everyone.
She couldn't imagine Thalya in that place.
The car turned onto a quieter street, surrounded by residential buildings. Nothing luxurious, but organized. Trees planted on the sidewalk, bicycles leaning against the entrances.
Her father parked.
"We've arrived."
The word hung in the air.
Seina hesitated for a few seconds before opening the door. The city air was different. It smelled of hot asphalt mixed with food from some nearby restaurant.
She grabbed her backpack from the bench and left.
The building was tall, but not very tall. Light color, narrow balcony in the apartments. The kind of place that seemed too normal to leave a lasting mark on someone's life.
They went up in the elevator in silence.
When the apartment door opened, the first thing that appeared were boxes.
Boxes on the floor, leaning against the walls, stacked near the kitchen. Some still have tape on them, others are already half open.
"It's not big," her mother said, going in first, "but it's cozy."
Seina entered last.
Small room. A new sofa. A dining table, still disassembled, in a corner. The kitchen opened onto the living room, with light-colored cabinets that still smelled of freshly installed wood.
Everything seemed... temporary.
As if someone had staged a scene of normal life.
"That's your room," her father pointed to a short hallway.
She went there without answering.
The room was simple. A bed against the wall, a desk near the window, and two boxes on the floor.
One of them had her name written on it with a marker.
Seina dropped her backpack and sat on the bed.
For a moment, she stared at the empty room.
Perhaps if she hadn't met Thalya… Maybe this place was just another move. Another city, another school, a beginning.
But now it looked like something else.
It seemed like a distance away.
She opened one of the boxes and began to slowly take out the clothes that didn't belong to her Fold, put away. Fold, put away.
It was a mechanical job. Good for not having to think.
The doorbell rang.
"Sweetheart!" her mother's voice came from the living room. "Can you answer that?"
Seina paused for a second.
"Of course."
She left the room, adjusting her coat sleeve without realizing it. When she reached the door, she opened it just a crack at first.
Outside, there was an adult woman.
Thin-framed glasses. Hair simply tied back. The clothes are understated, but too dressed up to look like a casual visit.
She smiled when she saw Seina.
"You must be Seina."
The voice was calm. Observant.
Seina opened the door a little wider.
"I am…"
The woman inclined her head slightly, as if greeting someone she already knows only by reputation.
"Your parents talked a lot about you."
Seina didn't know what to do with her hands. She ended up holding her own sleeve.
"Ah…"
The silence lasted for a few seconds.
"I'm Dr. Park," the woman continued kindly, "I work as a psychologist here in the city."
Before Seina could answer, footsteps came from the room.
"Ah, you're here!" her mother appeared with a relieved smile.
"Good morning, Mrs. Im Hye-Jin." Dr. Park smiled. "You look very much like your daughter."
She approached the door and placed her hand on Seina's shoulder, as if she were presenting something important.
"Don't be modest. Sweetheart, this is Dr. Park Min-seo. I told you about her in the car."
Seina vaguely remembered the conversation. Loose words. "Help," "accompany," "important."
The psychologist looked at her with a kind of attention that made her curiosity evident.
"I was passing through the area today," she said. "Your mother mentioned that you had just arrived. I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other."
Seina nodded slowly.
"Yeah… i guess"
The mother continued talking, explaining things that Seina could no longer hear properly. Something about the clinic being nearby. About flexible hours. About how that could help with adapting to the new city.
The words passed through her like the wind.
The psychologist spoke directly to Seina again.
"Big changes can be difficult." She didn't answer. "New city, new school... A new life."
Seina shrugged slightly.
"I can adapt."
The psychologist kept smiling, but her eyes remained watching.
"Who knows."
The mother brought up the subject again, inviting the woman to come inside.
They went into the living room to talk. They were already chatting away.
Seina stood near the door for a few seconds before returning to her room.
She sat on the bed again.
The apartment seemed more crowded now.
She picked up a t-shirt from the box and stared at the fabric without really seeing it.
Seoul.
New city.
New school.
Psychologist.
Everything seemed too organized.
Too planned.
It was as if someone was trying to fix something they didn't even know what it was.
Seina lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
In the middle of that enormous city, full of streets, buildings, and people… she could only think of a place that wasn't there.