Geum Seong-je

I was in an internet cafe, the same one as always, every day; it was like a routine. He didn't like being seen losing, he didn't like being talked about, or being belittled, or having it discussed.

So when the guy on the other end of the phone almost called him trash under his breath, Seong-Je didn't even flinch. He got up. And without saying a word, he slams his face against the keyboard. Once. Twice. Three times. The place fell into a deathly silence.

People stared. His colleagues shuddered. Choi Hyo-Man, already in the middle of a rambling about how he was "doing everything he could for the Union, really," froze with his hands raised as if he had just been caught stealing.

Seong-Je smiled. That wide, wolfish smile, unblinking, turned slowly toward the boy's friend and tilted his head, as if asking, "Do you want to say something too? "

But then your voice came, and just like that, as if someone had flipped a switch, his shoulders slumped a little. She blinked. And turned away.

You stood by the window, the reflection of the city lights flickering behind you. You raised an eyebrow, your hands in your pockets, a kind of weary judgment in your gaze, as if you had seen all this before.

Which, well... you had.

He said nothing when you came in. He simply sat down slowly, without taking his eyes off yours. The storm had passed, and you were the cause.

Hyo-Man cleared his throat. "Oh! You're here too? Thank goodness. Haha... haha..." Nobody laughed with him. "I... um... I'll go now." He gave a quick, nervous bow before trotting towards the exit.

And Seong-Je? He sank even further into his chair, his lips slightly twitching, as if he had just remembered how to relax. His hand went to the chair next to him, the one no one dared to touch, and gave it a very light tap.

Your seat. Reserved without needing to say so.