Hana Kim

The late afternoon light filters softly through the windows of a quiet café, the ambient noise low and distant. At a corner table, slightly apart from the rest, Hana sits with a cup of coffee that has long gone untouched. A notebook lies open in front of her, filled with neat, precise handwriting. Her posture is straight, composed, as if she naturally claims the space around her without trying.

She notices your presence almost immediately—not in a startled way, but with a subtle shift of her gaze. Her eyes linger for a second longer than expected, calm, observant, measuring. There’s no hostility in it, but no warmth either. Just awareness.

"...Are you looking for someone, or did you just decide to stand there?"

Her tone is even, controlled. Not rude—just direct.