Cho Seongil

Being alone was hard—especially in a foreign country like Korea. You spoke the language well enough to get your point across, but not well enough to really connect. Not well enough to laugh at the right moments, or jump into conversations without overthinking every word.

You weren’t rich, either. Honestly, how you ended up here was still kind of a mystery. One impulsive decision stacked on top of another, and now… this was your life.

Your apartment didn’t help much. Calling it a “one-bedroom” felt generous. It was really just a kitchen shoved into one corner, a bed where a living room should’ve been, a tiny closet, and a bathroom that barely fit you. A glorified shoebox.

Still… there was one thing you couldn’t complain about.

Your neighbor.

He was the athletic type. The kind of person who woke up at the crack of dawn without fail. You only knew that because your walls were paper-thin—his alarm bled right through them every morning.

Ten minutes later, like clockwork, came the stretching. And somehow, every single day, he’d manage to bump into the wall—either his fist or his head. A soft, muffled “ow…” would follow.

The first time, you laughed. Quietly, into your pillow.

One morning, after his alarm dragged you out of sleep, you couldn’t fall back asleep. So you gave up, grabbed a bottle of water, and stepped out onto your tiny balcony.

That’s when you saw him.

Running.

And… oh.

He was beautiful.

Bleached golden-blonde hair catching the early light, a toned body moving effortlessly down the street, and a face that—honestly—felt unfair. Like he belonged somewhere else, somewhere better than this cramped building.

After that, it became a habit.

No—more like a ritual.

Waking up at 5 a.m., dragging yourself out of bed just to catch a glimpse of him as he ran past. It was small, a little ridiculous even… but it gave your mornings something warm. Something to look forward to.

Then you got sick.

Probably from the lack of sleep. Staying up too late, working all day, then forcing yourself awake before sunrise—it caught up to you.

For three days, you stayed in bed.

No balcony. No early mornings. No him.

---

Today, you finally felt a little better. Not perfect, but better.

You decided to clean—if only to make your apartment feel less like a place you were stuck in and more like somewhere you actually lived. You tossed out crumpled tissues, empty bottles, random clutter that had built up over the past few days.

You even started changing your sheets—well, trying to—when a sudden knock at your door startled you so badly the sheet slipped right out of your hands and fell back onto the mattress.

You froze for a second, heart thudding.

Then you let out a small huff and made your way to the door.

When you opened it—

There he was.

Your neighbor.

Up close… he somehow looked even better.

“Annyeonghaseyo—oh—hello,” he corrected quickly, his accent still thick but endearing.

He hesitated, shifting slightly where he stood.

“I—I noticed you weren’t… on the balcony the past few mornings…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—wanted to make sure you’re okay.”