The private coach idled in the office parking lot, its doors open, exhaling a soft sigh of warm air into the crisp morning. Staff boarded one by one, a low hum of light conversation filling the space. Seo-jin stood beside Do-yeon, her gaze subtly scanning the small group, her brow furrowing slightly as she counted faces. No Hyun-woo. Still no reply to her text. It was hard not to attract attention by asking where he was, but it's not an unusual request, given he’s one of the key stakeholders of the project. She looked at Do-yeon, confirming that to ask her to ask, would be even more suspicious. 

"Is Hyun-woo attending?" she asked Min-su, who paused mid-step, about to board the bus himself.

Min-su turned, a cheerful smile still on his face. "Said he’s taking his bike. Meet us there. To be honest, he’s never ridden with us on outings like this."

Before Seo-jin could react, Soo-hyun leaned his head in towards Seo-jin. "Seo-jin. Did you really think he’d get back on a bus... with you?"

A beat stretched, thick with unspoken history. Seo-jin blinked, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. Soo-hyun’s grin widened, enjoying her discomfort.

"He stopped using buses when we hit college," Soo-hyun continued, his voice laced with knowing amusement. "Got the bike instead. Less waiting. More control. No unnecessary... history."

Seo-jin’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, a muscle jumping beneath her skin, but she forced a neutral nod. "Makes sense." Her voice was flat. Measured. Soo-hyun raised an eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes, but didn’t push. Do-yeon, however, clocked the micro-reaction, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

"Right. Let’s not turn this into a documentary on Hyun-woo’s transport preferences," Do-yeon interjected smoothly, pulling Seo-jin toward the steps and gently steering her onto the bus. As she moved, Seo-jin glanced toward the street, a quick, barely noticeable flicker of her eyes.

Nothing. No bike. No Hyun-woo. Just absence.

Chatter filled the narrow aisle as the rest of the team boarded the coach, tossing bags overhead and finding seats. Seo-jin slid into a window seat midway down the bus, settling with an air of deliberate calm. Do-yeon followed without asking, taking the seat beside her.

A beat of comfortable silence passed between them before Do-yeon glanced at her sideways, her expression soft with concern. "You okay?"

"Fine," Seo-jin replied, her eyes fixed on the window. Outside, nothing moved, the city still slumbering.

The director’s voice cut through the background noise from up front. "Do-yeon? Sit with me a minute. I want to run through the brief."

Do-yeon paused, glancing down at Seo-jin, her brow furrowed with uncertainty. "You good? I can tell him I’ll come later."

Seo-jin turned slightly, offering the kind of practiced smile she used in high-stakes meetings – polite, composed, utterly devoid of warmth. "It’s fine. Go."

A flicker of tension passed between them, a silent communication Do-yeon registered but chose not to press. "Alright. Back in a bit." She moved forward, taking the seat across from the director. Seo-jin returned her gaze to the window. Outside, the street remained still. Empty.

With a low hiss of brakes releasing, the bus pulled away from the curb.

To the East of Seoul the city motorway eventually gives way to roads that twist through the valleys and out in the smaller towns and villages. The wind pressed against Hyun-woo's chest, the bike's engine hummed, and the landscape unfolded in a blur of green hills and golden light. With each curve and dip, there's a sense of pure presence, no distraction, just the rhythmic lean of the bike and the steady rhythm of his breathing and motion. It's freedom distilled into movement, solitude sharpened by speed. 

Hyun-woo held everything he needed in the small backpack he wore. His bikes form too precious to be marred by panniers altering its aesthetics, its form and function lay purely in its motion.

Perhaps 40 kilometers behind him the large coach made its way along the same roads, a slow, lumbering contrast to the nimble bike.

Hyun-woo reached the architectural reserves, pulling off the main road onto a gravel track through the already open gates. The track carved its way from the main road through thickets of bushes and trees to the cleared opening that had been created to house the retreat. 

He parked his bike neatly under a patch of shade near the main house’s garage, its engine ticked softly as it cooled.

The retreat was made up of a central sprawling building that formed the heart of the dwelling. Its form was a blend of tradition with quiet sophistication. The exterior charcoal cedar slats and soft stone mirrored the terrain it sat in. While strikingly tall sliding glass panels could be opened to panoramic views of the forested surroundings.

From the main structure, break away buildings nestled back into secluded areas of the gardens, allowing for guests to enjoy their own seclusion if so inclined. To the east of the building was a low garage that connected to the main building. It was the one building that didn't sit well with Hyun-woo. Too disjointed, too interfering. It should have been set much further away from the main building. It unsettled the flow and form of the house, but in some cases you have to yield to the owners desires and ultimately their practical needs.

Hyun-woo walked to the side door of the garage and walked in.  

The private coach pulled in front of the house, the gravel pinging and popping under its weight. The gravel track showing the coaches tracks perfectly dented into it. The tracks left looking like preserved miniature waves on its surface. The air was quiet, still, a profound calm settling over the landscape. It was disrupted by the bus door hissing open. The team stepped off one by one, stretching and slinging bags over shoulders, their voices a little softer as they stood in front of such a spectacularly calming structure.

Do-yeon stepped out first, scanning the tranquil landscape. Seo-jin followed, as she stepped down from the bus and onto the gravel she glanced up to see a familiar shape that made her heart clench.

Hyun-woo's bike. Parked neatly under shade, a distance from the edge of the track and garage. But there was no sign of him.

"Guess he beat us here," Sang-wook commented cheerfully, oblivious to the ripple of unease that went through Seo-jin.

"Not surprising," Do-yeon replied, her gaze flicking to Seo-jin before returning to the bike. "Looks like he prefers arriving on his own terms."

Seo-jin lingered near the bus steps, her eyes fixed on the empty space beside the bike. "But he’s not here."

A beat. Do-yeon registered the tremor in her voice but said nothing, letting the silence hang.

"He probably went to scout the site," Min-su chirped cheerfully, oblivious to the undercurrents. "You’ll all love it. Wait till you see the pavilion walk-through."

The group started collecting their bags from the coach, their excitement palpable as they moved toward the main structure. Seo-jin hesitated for half a second longer, her eyes glued to the bike, a silent testament to his presence, and his absence. Then, she turned, pulling herself away, and followed the others.

"We’ll take you to your rooms, then, can we all meet at the back of the building?" Min-su called out, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness. "Let's say half an hour?"

People nodded in agreement, already dispersing, eager to explore.