Daegu. A small but pleasant city. It didn't bring back memories, unfortunately. Everything felt new. The only thing I knew was the address, but I couldn't reach it without a taxi. Sana seemed like she was on an excursion. She took photos every two seconds, and whenever one didn’t turn out well, she would frown.

"Isn't this stressing you out even more?" I mumbled, and she shot me a disapproving look.

"Do you have a problem with me, Mr. Keith? I'm not taking pictures of you; I'm capturing what's happening around me. You take up too much memory, so I won't fill my gallery with you," she smiled, and I was on the verge of pulling her hair out. The location saved her. The taxi had stopped and was waiting to be paid.

I took out money from my wallet, paid for the ride, and stepped out of the car. Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the front door and entered the building. There was no turning back, nor did I want to waste time.

Sana wandered through the rooms, trying to find some forgotten item but without success. I entered my room, and soon enough, she found her way there too. I sat on the floor, pulling one of the abandoned boxes toward me. You’d probably do the same, no matter how dusty the floor was.

"I don't know why you moved; this place is lovely," she commented, and I laughed.

"I agree with you, but apparently, my parents think differently." I shrugged, turning my head toward the girl walking around my room.

"Are you going to help, or will you continue pretending to be a reporter?" I asked, and she sat down next to me, picking up the closest object that could resemble a microphone and aimed it at my face.

"Mr. Keith, I’m a reporter from Japan. I’m here to uncover the mystery of your life. How do you feel about the situation? Is it shaking you up?" She began bombarding me with questions, and I pushed her hand away, laughing.

"Please, focus!" I chuckled, and with a giggle, she started rummaging through the boxes.

At first glance, there was nothing interesting. As my mother had said, "Things I didn’t need." I had begun to convince myself that I was worrying for no reason, until Sana suddenly perked up.

"Hey, do you think there’s anything interesting in the attic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement. 

"The attic? Maybe. I haven't checked it out yet," I replied, intrigued by the idea. 

"Let's go find out!" she said, determination in her voice. 

We made our way up the creaky stairs to the attic. As I opened the door, a cloud of dust enveloped us. It was dark and cluttered, filled with old furniture, boxes, and forgotten memories.

"Wow, it’s like a treasure trove up here," Sana exclaimed, her eyes scanning the room. 

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nostalgia. "Let’s look for that mystery box," I suggested.

We started searching through the boxes, lifting them one by one. After a while, I noticed an old trunk tucked away in a corner, partially hidden by a stack of dusty books.

"Look over there!" I pointed, and Sana rushed over to it. Together, we pulled the trunk into the light, its surface adorned with intricate carvings that hinted at its history.

"Do you think it’s locked?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation.

"Only one way to find out," I said, lifting the lid. It creaked open, revealing a trove of items inside: old photos, postcards, comic cutouts, various trinkets, and at the bottom—six untouched letters.

"Do you know these people?" Sana handed me a framed photo, and I laughed.

"Are you mocking me? If I gave you a picture where everyone but you had blurred faces, could you recognize them?" I said sarcastically, but Sana didn’t seem to understand what I meant. Her confused expression was starting to get on my nerves.

"Keith... I can see them perfectly," she whispered, causing me to look at the photo again.

It made no sense. Nothing connected. My head started to hurt—I was too tense. I closed my eyes for a moment, setting the photo aside.

"It doesn’t matter... let's come back to it later. Could you hand me the letters?" I asked, and moments later, Sana gathered and handed me all six envelopes.

They were addressed but not numbered. When I said they were untouched, I meant it—literally. They were unread. Each one passed through my hands as I read the names aloud, but none were familiar.

- Baeck-hyun 

- Seung-ho

- Jin-woo

- Kyung-soo

- Sung-min

- Dong-wook

And so, my friends, the real beginning of my story had started. I hadn’t realized that not only my life but the lives of these people would depend on me as well. I didn’t know what kind of responsibility I was taking on just by reading those letters.