Ian Jeon stared at his laptop screen like it had personally betrayed him.
The numbers didn't make sense, his inbox kept refilling itself like magic, and his coffee—his fourth cup—was officially useless.
"I hate my job," Ian muttered.
Across from him, Eunbi looked up from her phone. "Wow. That's new. You've only said that… every day."
Ian sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair. "I work nonstop, and for what? Stress? Back pain? Emotional damage?"
Eunbi nodded seriously. "Valid."
"I haven't slept properly in weeks," he continued. "Even my dreams have deadlines."
"That's not a dream," Eunbi said. "That's a nightmare with benefits."
Ian laughed despite himself, then groaned again. "I'm exhausted."
Eunbi set her phone down. "Then take a break."
Ian blinked. "A what?"
"A leave. Vacation. Escape. Disappearance. Pick your favorite."
"I can't just leave work."
Eunbi raised an eyebrow. "Ian, you're one email away from crying in the office bathroom."
"…Okay, rude but accurate."
"Go somewhere quiet," she continued. "Somewhere peaceful."
Ian thought for a moment. "My grandma's house. In the countryside."
"Perfect," Eunbi smiled. "Fresh air, no Wi-Fi, unlimited food."
That last part convinced him.
After he successfully file his work leave he go back to his apartment and pack some of his things
The bus ride was long, quiet, and oddly comforting. Green fields replaced buildings, and the noise of the city slowly faded. By the time Ian stepped off the bus, the air already felt lighter.
His grandma's house stood just as he remembered—small, old, and warm.
Before he could even knock, the door swung open.
"Ian!" his grandma exclaimed. "You're too thin!"
"I just arrived—"
"Did you eat?"
"…No."
She gasped in horror. "Why are you starving yourself?!"
"I'm not—"
"Come inside. Sit. I'll cook."
Ian smiled, tired but relieved. "I missed you, Grandma."
Inside, the familiar smell of home wrapped around him. His grandma fussed over him as he sat at the wooden table.
"So," she said gently, "how is your work?"
Ian hesitated, then sighed. "Hard."
She nodded like she already knew. "Work is always hard."
"I feel tired all the time," he admitted. "Sometimes I don't even know why I'm doing it."
His grandma patted his hand. "You don't have to know everything now."
She stood up suddenly. "Do you want soup or fried fish?"
Ian blinked. "Huh?"
"You look sad. Soup helps sadness. Fried fish helps tiredness."
"…Can I have both?"
She smiled proudly. "Good choice."
As she cooked, she kept talking.
"You used to smile more when you were younger," she said softly. "But that smile is still there. Just resting."
Ian felt something warm settle in his chest.
That night, after eating far too much, Ian lay down in his old room. The ceiling looked the same. The air felt different.
For the first time in months, he slept without worry.
Unaware that this rest—was only the beginning of a journey far deeper than a vacation.