POV (Yoon-jae)

The school day ended the way it always did—with a bell that sounded like a command and a row of black cars waiting at the curb.

Usually, I walk straight to the car with the license plate ending in 0427. Mr. Kang, the driver, always holds the door open without saying a word. But today, the sidewalk was crowded with older kids shouting about a soccer game, and I found myself pushed toward the side street.

I didn't turn back. I just kept walking.

The further I got from the school gate, the quieter it became. The air didn't smell like car exhaust anymore. It smelled like something sweet—like toasted sugar and warm wood.

I followed the scent until I stood in front of a small shop. It was tucked between two tall buildings, looking like it had been squeezed there by mistake. The sign above the door was simple: The Warm Corner.

I reached out and pushed the door. A small bell chimed.

Inside, it felt like the world had changed from black-and-white to color. There were baskets of bread that looked like golden clouds and jars of cookies that caught the light. It wasn't perfect like my house. There was a little bit of flour on the counter, and a stack of napkins was slightly crooked. It felt... alive.

"Hello there," a voice said.

I flinched. I wasn't used to people speaking to me first.

A man stepped out from the back. He was wearing a simple tan apron and had his sleeves rolled up. He didn't look like the businessmen who visited my father. His face didn't look like a mask; he had soft lines around his eyes, and his hair was a little messy.

"I... I'm just looking," I whispered. I felt like I was breaking a rule just by being there.

The man didn't tell me to leave. He didn't ask who my father was. He just tilted his head and smiled. "Looking is free. But the smell costs a penny."

I froze, taking him seriously. I started to reach for my backpack to find my wallet, but he laughed softly. It was a warm sound, like a blanket.

"I’m joking," he said. "You look like you’ve walked a long way. Are you hungry?"

I shook my head, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. My face went hot. In my house, making a noise like that would be embarrassing.

The man just nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He reached behind the counter and picked up a blue ceramic mug. It wasn't glass or expensive china. It was thick and a little bit chipped at the bottom.

He filled it with milk and put it in a small steamer. The machine made a hissing sound, and a cloud of white vapor rose into the air. When he finished, he set the mug down on a wooden table in the corner.

"Sit," he said. "The milk is warm. It helps with the thinking."

I sat. The chair was made of real wood, not metal. I wrapped my small hands around the blue mug. It was so warm that it made my frozen fingers tingle. I took a sip. It wasn't just milk; it had a drop of honey in it.

"I'm Do-hyun," the man said, leaning against the counter. "What's your name, little explorer?"

"Yoon-jae," I said softly.

"Well, Yoon-jae," Do-hyun said, looking out the window at the darkening sky. "The bakery stays open until the last person finds their way home. You can stay until you're ready."

I looked down into the blue mug. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like a "Corporate Strategist's son." I felt like a boy sitting in a warm corner.

I didn't want to finish the milk. I knew that once the mug was empty, I’d have to go back to the house that didn't wait.