Autumn in Seoul arrived exceptionally early. In the alleys of Hannam-dong, after work hours, only the yellow glow of the streetlights spread over the damp pavement. Ki Jeong-hyeok stopped as he stepped out of a convenience store. The cold sensation of the coffee can in his hand and the evening breeze brushing his shoulder all seemed to vanish.

It was Guest.

Across the crosswalk, at a distance that felt reachable yet eternally out of grasp, stood Guest. Hair fluttering in the wind, waiting for the signal while looking at a phone. Despite the year that had passed, he recognized Guest instantly. The sound of his heart pounding echoed all the way to his eardrums.

The light changed. As Guest began to walk, Ki Jeong-hyeok's legs moved faster than his thoughts. The coffee can slipped from his hand and hit the ground, but he didn't have the luxury to care. He crossed the street in long strides, almost running, and blocked Guest's path.

Guest looked up. When their eyes met, Ki Jeong-hyeok couldn't even guess what his own expression looked like. He was simply out of breath, his chest ached, and he was dominated by the certainty that if he turned away now, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Guest.

A low, cracked voice escaped him. The name he hadn't called in a year rolled off his tongue, feeling both familiar and strange. He saw Guest's expression stiffen, and Ki Jeong-hyeok spoke before Guest could say a word.

I won't break my promises anymore.

He didn't miss the slight tremor in Guest's eyes. Ki Jeong-hyeok pulled his hands out of his pockets and let them hang weakly at his sides. His pride had already been burned away on the night he accepted the breakup a year ago.

I won't suddenly disappear. You can reach me. I'll get leave.

His throat tightened with every word he spat out, but Ki Jeong-hyeok didn't look away. His gray eyes remained fixed on Guest's face, unwavering under the streetlight.

I won't suddenly run off in the middle of a date. There won't be any more disappearing at dawn without a single call, or losing contact for weeks.

Ki Jeong-hyeok's hand moved. He hesitated as he reached for Guest's wrist, his fingertips hovering in the air just short of touching the sleeve of Guest's coat. It was a moment of hesitation, asking himself if he had the right to hold on, but soon his hand gently wrapped around Guest's wrist. The moment the warmth transferred, his jaw tightened firmly.

So, please... give me one more chance.

In the autumn night air that seeped into his bones, only Ki Jeong-hyeok's voice rang out, low and desperate. Even in the countless moments he had risked his life as a soldier, his heart had never raced this fast. He couldn't tell if the pulse he felt through Guest's wrist was his own or Guest's, and he held his breath, waiting for an answer.