The life that Seo-jun lived felt like a small paradise — and it truly was. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the kind of life he loved. The streets he walked were the ones he’d grown up on. Some houses were old, their paint faded, their walls lined with cracks — but each one bore the marks of care, of people doing their best to make them last a little longer.

An elderly couple was busy repairing their porch and window frames.

“Ah! Young lad!” the old man called out when Seo-jun waved, his grin stretching wide. The lady beside him smiled softly in greeting.

They exchanged a few words — asking about Seo-jun’s grandparents, about him — until Bom, the wife, disappeared inside and returned with a glass of lemonade. Seo-jun accepted it with a grateful bow.

“So, will we ever live to see the day you bring us your wife and kids?”

The question hit him like a slap. He choked on the lemonade — which suddenly tasted bitter despite being sweet and cold. His sun-kissed face flushed red, uncertain whether it was from embarrassment or shock.

The old man laughed heartily, clapping Seo-jun on the back with enough force to make him shrink with each hit.

“Dear husband! Stop teasing the poor boy!” Bom scolded, swatting the back of her husband’s head. “Please forgive him — he thinks he’s funny when he’s not.”

Seo-jun waved his hands quickly, assuring her it was fine before bowing lightly and heading off. The old couple waved him goodbye as he made his way toward the tea shop.

Maybe the old man wasn’t wrong. Perhaps it was time to think about settling down. But Seo-jun had no one special in his life — and truthfully, he enjoyed his simple routine. Fishing and working at his grandparents’ shop were all he needed.

If you asked him whether he loved someone, he’d probably say no — that his heart belonged to fishing.

But that would be a lie.

He still wasn’t entirely over his ex-girlfriend. Even after years, he sometimes caught himself wondering how Eun-ji was doing.

They’d met in university — Seo-jun had liked her from the start. A petite girl with silky black hair that fell like a waterfall whenever she leaned over her notes. She was enchanting to him. During a shared project, he’d finally gathered the courage to ask her out. She’d said yes.

They’d soon moved in together — a small studio that they made cozy with laughter, books, and warmth. For a while, it was perfect. Until one day, Seo-jun felt her grow distant. No matter how hard he tried to fix things, her heart had already drifted away.

When they finally parted, he knew there was nothing he could do. It broke him. Three years had passed since then, but her absence still lingered like a quiet ache.

The shop’s bell jingled softly as he entered. A few people sat scattered at the tables, hiding in the cool shadows where the sun couldn’t reach. Behind the counter, his grandfather was refilling jars with herbal teas — some new, judging by the scent.

As Seo-jun passed by the fishermen’s wives, they greeted him with cheerful smiles, their eyes trailing in admiration. He’d gotten used to it over the years, though their teasing still made him chuckle.

“Please, ladies, you’re flattering me,” he said with a wink and a soft smirk. Leaning against the counter, he crossed his arms, muscles shifting under his rolled sleeves. “You’ll make an old man shy.”

“Oh, stop that, Seo-jun!” one of them waved him off, laughing. “You’ve got your grandfather’s charm.”

“When he was young, he was the talk of every girl in school,” another chimed in. Her pink hair bounced with each nod.

Seo-jun blinked, slowly turning toward his grandfather, who sighed and set down the last jar.

“Yes, I was,” the old man admitted, pointing at the pink-haired lady. “And you, Ara — were the most persistent of them all.”

“I honestly thought you two would end up together,” another said dreamily.

“Don’t say that,” Ara scoffed. “We both know his heart was already stolen—”

“That’s right,” came a familiar voice from the door.

Everyone turned. An elegant woman with long silver hair stepped in, her steps graceful, her eyes amused. “You two could never have him. He was mine from the beginning.”

“Grandma,” Seo-jun greeted with a smile, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“Indeed,” Hye-won said, grinning at her husband before giving the others a teasing look. “I’m sure your husbands are missing you.”

“No, they’re not,” Bom huffed. “They’re probably out fishing—”

“No, we’re not! Not anymore, at least!”

Two familiar voices echoed from the entrance as the bell chimed again. Je-woo and Mi-so walked in, shaking their heads.

“Je-woo! Mi-so! What happened with the fish?” Seo-jun asked, smirking as he stepped behind the counter to prepare tea.

“Ah, you know… it ran off,” Je-woo said, giving his wife a playful kiss before sitting down.

“And I assume,” Mi-so added, grinning, “our wives were gossiping about us again?”

The laughter that followed filled the tea shop like a melody — soft, warm, and familiar. Conversations shifted from local news to gossip about the neighboring district.

Seo-jun worked quietly, serving customers — mostly students who came for his tea and his easy charm.
The day passed peacefully.

By evening, his grandparents had gone home, and Seo-jun closed the shop alone. The sunset bled gold and orange across the city, coloring the rooftops and painting the streets in glowing light. The radio hummed faintly in the background as he cleaned the last dishes, the sound of the broom brushing against the wooden floor echoing softly.

When everything was done, he locked the door with a quiet click.

Outside, night had already fallen.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and tapped it lightly against his palm before taking one out. The lighter’s flame flickered, briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face before fading into the soft glow of the ember.

He inhaled. The smoke filled his lungs like a memory — heavy, grounding, familiar.

Exhale. The smoke drifted into the night, curling lazily around him.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Smoke in.
Smoke out.

The ritual of ending another day.