When the Han River Sleeps
Edges of Tomorrow
The dawn spilled gold across the skyline, casting long shadows over Seoul’s quiet streets. Yuna lingered by her apartment window, wrapped in a blanket, watching the city stir from its slumber. Today felt different—an edge of something /translate:새로운/—new and uncertain.
The note Jihoon left on her desk was still there, trembling slightly in the morning breeze. She unfolded it carefully, her fingers trembling in turn.
“Tonight, I want to show you something. Not just music, but the part of me I’ve hidden long enough. Meet me at the 남산 Tower. Let’s find out what waits at the top.”
A thrill shot through her—fear and anticipation twisting together like the river’s endless flow. Tentatively, she nodded to herself and began to prepare, selecting a simple coat and a sketchpad, the pages blank but brimming with possibility.
As she ascended the winding path to the tower, each step echoed with memories—tiny fragments of a journey that had brought her here, through cold nights and silent hopes. She thought of Jihoon, his melodies weaving through her dreams, of their shared moments beneath cherry blossoms and neon lights.
Reaching the observation deck, Yuna saw Jihoon waiting, guitar slung over his shoulder, eyes reflecting the rising sun and the city beneath. He offered her a soft, knowing smile.
“I brought something too,” he said, placing a small box in her hands.
Inside was a necklace—a simple silver chain with a tiny charm shaped like a river, flowing and free. “To remind us that no matter where the current takes us,” Jihoon whispered, “we’re connected by something deeper than words.”
Yuna’s eyes shimmered with tears, her heart swelling with the weight of the moment. She gently clasped the necklace around her neck, feeling the gentle pulse of promise.
“In this moment,” she whispered, “we’re already at the top.”
The city sparkled below—endless, alive, and waiting. And as Jihoon began to play his song, their spirits lifted together, defying the shadows with the hope of dawn.