The city was quieter than usual.
Not silent—never silent—but reduced to a low hum. Distant engines. Flickering neon. The soft buzz of streetlights struggling against the dark. It was the kind of night that didn't ask questions. It simply existed.
Inside the convenience store, fluorescent lights cast a pale, artificial glow over everything. The shelves were neatly arranged, untouched for hours. A faint smell of instant noodles and coffee lingered in the air.
Seo Ji-hoon stood behind the counter.
His posture was relaxed, one hand resting near the register, the other flipping through a small notebook. Not writing—just reading. His eyes moved slowly across the page, thoughtful, distant. The clock above the door ticked past midnight.
Late shift.
No customers for nearly twenty minutes.
He didn't mind.
Silence helped him think.
The automatic door slid open.
A soft mechanical sound.
Ji-hoon didn't look up immediately.
He heard the footsteps first.
Steady.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Measured.
He lifted his gaze.
She had already stepped inside.
Black shirt. Sleeves rolled just below the elbows. Dark pants. No unnecessary details. No accessories. Nothing that drew attention—and yet everything about her did.
Baek Do-yeon.
Though he didn't know her name yet.
She moved past the shelves without looking around. No hesitation. No scanning like a normal customer deciding what to buy. She already knew what she came for.
Ji-hoon watched quietly.
Not staring.
Observing.
There was something… off.
Not in an obvious way. Nothing he could point at directly. But her movements were too precise. Too controlled. Like every step had already been calculated before she took it.
She stopped near the cigarette rack.
Reached out.
Picked one.
No wasted motion.
Her hand.
That's when he noticed.
Scars.
Not one.
Not two.
Multiple.
Across her fingers. Along the back of her hand. Faint lines crossing each other like a map drawn without meaning. Some old. Some newer.
Ji-hoon's eyes lingered for a second longer than necessary.
Then he looked away.
Not out of fear.
Out of awareness.
She walked to the counter.
Placed the packet down.
No words.
Ji-hoon scanned it.
Beep.
The sound felt louder than usual.
He finally looked at her properly.
Her face.
More scars.
Faint, but visible under the harsh white light.
One along her jawline. Another near her eyebrow. Not enough to ruin her appearance—but enough to make people uncomfortable.
Most people would avoid eye contact.
He didn't.
She looked back.
And for a brief second—
Something changed.
It wasn't hostility.
It wasn't curiosity either.
It was something quieter.
A strange kind of… satisfaction.
As if she had expected something—and just confirmed it.
Ji-hoon didn't understand it.
But he felt it.
The air shifted slightly. Not heavier. Just different.
He handed her the change.
Their fingers didn't touch.
She didn't say thank you.
Didn't nod.
Didn't acknowledge.
She picked up the packet and turned.
Walked out the same way she came in.
Calm.
Silent.
Gone.
The door slid shut behind her.
The sound lingered longer than it should have.
Ji-hoon stood still for a moment.
Then exhaled quietly.
"…Strange."
He didn't mean it as judgment.
Just observation.
He looked at the door again.
Empty.
But that feeling remained.
That look she gave him—it wasn't normal.
Not fear.
Not irritation.
Not indifference.
Something else.
Something he couldn't categorize.
He picked up his notebook.
Flipped to a blank page.
Wrote a single line.
"Woman. Late 20s. Multiple scars. Unusual eye contact. No verbal interaction. Controlled movement."
He paused.
Then added:
"Expression: unclear."
He stared at the words for a few seconds.
Then closed the notebook.
"Overthinking," he muttered under his breath.
The store returned to silence.
Hours passed.
The sky began to lighten slightly.
Ji-hoon finished his shift.
Locked the store.
Stepped outside.
The air was colder now. Early morning quiet. The kind that existed between night and day, where nothing really belonged.
He adjusted his bag over his shoulder and started walking.
Not home.
Elsewhere.
The streets were mostly empty. A few taxis. A couple of early commuters. Nothing unusual.
But his mind wandered back.
Black shirt.
Rolled sleeves.
Scars.
And that look.
He shook his head lightly.
"Just a customer."
Nothing more.
The hospital smelled like disinfectant and quiet worry.
Ji-hoon walked through the entrance, familiar with the route. Past the reception. Down the hallway. Left turn. Second door.
He knocked lightly.
"Come in," a soft voice answered.
He opened the door.
His mother sat on the bed, propped up slightly, a blanket over her legs. Pale, but smiling when she saw him.
"You're late," she said gently.
"Night shift," Ji-hoon replied, stepping inside.
"You should be sleeping."
"I was," she said. "Until something… strange happened."
Ji-hoon pulled a chair closer and sat down.
"Strange?"
She hesitated.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the blanket.
"There was a woman," she said.
Ji-hoon's expression didn't change, but his attention sharpened.
"What kind of woman?"
His mother looked at him carefully.
"Tall. Short hair. Wore black. Very… quiet."
Ji-hoon blinked once.
A small pause.
"…And?"
"She came into my room," his mother continued, voice lower now. "Didn't ask permission. Just walked in like she belonged there."
"That's not possible," Ji-hoon said automatically. "Security—"
"She didn't look like someone security would stop."
That made him pause.
His mother swallowed.
"There was something about her… I can't explain it. She wasn't angry. She wasn't threatening. But I was still… scared."
Ji-hoon leaned back slightly.
"What did she say?"
His mother's eyes shifted, as if recalling the moment made her uncomfortable.
"She stood near the bed. Looked at me. Not for long. Just enough."
A breath.
"Then she said…"
Her voice dropped.
"I want your son."
Silence filled the room.
Ji-hoon stared at her.
For a second, he thought she might be joking.
But she wasn't.
Her hands were trembling slightly.
"I didn't understand," she continued quickly. "I asked her what she meant, but she didn't answer. She just… looked at me again. And then she left."
Ji-hoon exhaled through his nose.
"…That's it?"
"That's it," she nodded.
He leaned back in his chair.
Processing.
Then—
A faint, almost amused breath left him.
"That's… weird," he said.
"Weird?" his mother repeated, slightly offended. "Ji-hoon, she just walked into a hospital room and said she wants you!"
"I know, I know," he said, raising a hand lightly. "But it sounds like some kind of misunderstanding."
His mother shook her head.
"No. It wasn't."
Ji-hoon studied her face.
She wasn't exaggerating.
She was genuinely shaken.
He looked away for a moment.
Black shirt.
Short hair.
Quiet.
Controlled movement.
His mind connected it immediately.
The store.
That woman.
He leaned forward slightly.
"Did she have… scars?" he asked.
His mother blinked.
"…Yes," she said slowly. "On her face. And her hands. How did you—"
Ji-hoon let out a small breath.
Then smiled.
Not fully serious.
"Yeah,"
To Be Continued…