Last Train to Seoul: 운명
The Invitation
Several days had passed since Ji-won’s message lit up Ha-eun’s phone, stirring a restless curiosity in her chest. It was a quiet afternoon in Gyeongju; the sun filtered softly through the hanok shutters, casting gentle patterns across her desk. The studio remained still except for the faint hum of a distant fan and the ever-present scent of old paper and ink.
Ha-eun stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Replying meant crossing a line between what had been a chance encounter and the possibility of something more. Her heart hammered, weighed down by memories and the uncertain pull of the city she’d just left behind.
Finally, she typed:
*“When and where?”*
Ji-won’s reply was swift, almost desperate in its eagerness:
*“Seoul Station. This Saturday. At 3 PM. I want to see your world again.”*
The date echoed in her mind as she packed her camera bag with care. Every photo in it felt like a beat of her heart, capturing moments too precious to forget.
Back in Seoul, Ji-won stared out of his office window at the sprawling city. The grey suits around him seemed a world apart from the warmth he found in Ha-eun’s photographs and words. The upcoming meeting brimmed with promise and peril a chance to reshape the story they had only begun.
Saturday arrived with a gentle rain, familiar and soft. Ha-eun stood beneath the towering clock of Seoul Station, camera in hand, anticipation tangled with nerves fluttering through her.
A figure emerged from the crowd Ji-won, eyes bright against the wet backdrop, offer unmistakable. Between them were unspoken questions, hope, and the delicate threads of a new beginning.
The invitation was more than a meeting; it was a bridge across their separate worlds, a step toward a connection tested by time and circumstance.