The rain hadn't stopped for hours.
It tapped gently against the windows of a small café nestled between a flower shop and an old bookstore—tucked away from the noise of the main streets of Seoul. Inside, the scent of espresso lingered in the air, mixed with warm pastries and a hint of lavender.
Luna Han wiped down the last table, humming softly to herself. Her shift was almost over, and the only customer left was a sleeping student in the corner, snoring quietly into his laptop.
"Lucky guy," she muttered with a small laugh. "Must be nice to nap through midterms and heartbreak."
As she reached for the tray of empty mugs, her head suddenly pulsed—sharp, like a needle threading through her mind. Her knees buckled. The mugs clattered to the floor and shattered.
The student jolted awake. Luna clutched her chest.
And then… she saw it.
A thin, glowing red string—hovering in the air, stretching from her chest and out through the café wall, vanishing into the city beyond.
"What the hell…?" she whispered.
The student stared at her like she'd lost it. But Luna wasn't looking at him anymore. Her eyes were locked on the thread. No one else seemed to see it.
And it was glowing brighter. Pulling tighter.
An hour later, Luna stood outside in the rain, soaked and shaking, her umbrella forgotten beside her. Her eyes followed the red thread as it twisted and curled through the streets, like it had a life of its own.
It led her to a narrow alley she'd never noticed before.
And there he was.
A tall man, all in black, leaning against the wall like he'd been waiting forever. Hair slightly tousled, face unreadable, cold eyes staring directly at her. In his hand—gleaming silver scissors.
Her red thread connected to his chest.
Their eyes met.
He raised the scissors slowly, silently.
Luna's heart nearly stopped. "Don't you dare," she said without thinking.
He blinked once. Then—smirked.
"I wasn't going to," he said, voice low. "Not yet."