The Quiet Departure
Gangneung Bus Terminal – 7:40 AM
Seo Yoon boarded the bus with a canvas tote bag over her shoulder and her hair tucked into a soft gray scarf. No white coat today. No hospital ID. Just a long beige overcoat, plain flats, and a face that didn't want to be remembered.
The bus to Wonju left right on time. She took her usual seat near the back, by the window. A cup of hot barley tea steamed in her hands, untouched.
She didn't scroll her phone. She didn't sleep.
Just watched the scenery blur by like a memory she'd memorized.
This was her ritual.
Once a month. Always alone. No one asked where she went — no one ever noticed.
---
A Town That Knew Her By Silence
Wonju Local Market – 9:10 AM
The market was quiet. She bought vegetables, tofu, rice cakes, and a small jar of honey from the usual vendor.
> "You're early today," the vendor said kindly.
"Fewer people. Easier to move," Seo Yoon replied.
She added a small potted lavender to her bag. It wasn't on the list. She just liked the smell.
A child passed her holding his mother's hand and looked up.
> "She looks like a movie doctor," he whispered.
She smiled — barely. And kept walking.
---
The House in the Trees
Wonju Countryside – 10:40 AM
It took her thirty minutes on foot to reach the house. The road narrowed with every step. Trees lined the dirt path, leaning close like they, too, held their breath when she passed.
A black gate stood at the edge of a low wall. Before she could knock, it creaked open.
Someone was waiting.
We don't see their face. Just a hand reaching out, accepting the grocery bag.
Inside, the light was warm. There was the smell of ginger, tea, and rice beginning to cook.
They didn't speak.
Seo Yoon took off her coat, rolled up her sleeves, and started slicing vegetables.
She moved with care — like she had done this before. Many times.
The Return
Bus Back to Gangneung – 6:25 PM
The sunset was soft behind the hills, streaking the sky in violet and orange. Seo Yoon sat with her head resting lightly against the window, eyes half-closed.
Her phone buzzed once — a message from the hospital reminding her of a surgery prep at noon tomorrow.
She didn't reply.
Outside the window, the lights of Gangneung city slowly reappeared.
But instead of going home, she got off one stop early.
---
The Bar on Hongdae Street
Gangneung – 7:40 PM
The small bar was tucked in between a bookstore and a fried chicken joint. It wasn't her usual place. She wasn't the type to drink publicly.
But tonight, the silence in her bones was louder than the one in her apartment.
She ordered a single glass of plum wine and sat at the far end of the bar.
Halfway through her drink, someone bumped into her chair.
> "Sorry," a slurred voice said. "Didn't see—oh."
Detective Hyun Woo.
He looked a little out of place, hair tousled, tie loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
> "Doctor Seo?" he blinked.
"Detective."
"Didn't think you drank."
"I don't."
"Same," he said, then hiccuped. "Usually."
She looked at him — really looked. His eyes were unfocused, cheeks slightly flushed.
> "You're not in any shape to get home alone," she said calmly.
"Probably not."
"Come on."
---
The Walk Home
Side Street – 8:10 PM
Seo Yoon walked beside him as he leaned slightly to one side, trying not to fall into streetlamps.
> "So you live near here?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Funny. I just moved two blocks that way."
She paused.
> "Coincidence."
"Or fate."
"Fate is just coincidence wearing perfume," she muttered.
He laughed. It was a soft, tired sound.
> "You always talk like that?"
"Only when I've had plum wine."
They reached his apartment building — small, clean, well-lit.
> "This is me," he said, fumbling with his keys. "Thank you… for not letting me face-plant into traffic."
"That would've been messy."
Before he entered, he turned to her.
> "You don't smile much, do you?"
"I do."
"When?"
"When I'm not being watched."
He smiled.
> "I think I'd like to see that."
She didn't respond. But she waited until his door clicked shut before walking away.
---
The Moment She Let Go
Seo Yoon's Apartment – 9:30 PM
She came home, changed into her softest sweater, and stood barefoot by the kitchen window. The lights across the street flickered.
She pulled her scarf from her bag — the one she wore in Wonju — and held it in her hands for a long moment.
Then, almost absentmindedly, she whispered:
> "He lives close…"
She wasn't smiling.
But she wasn't stone either.