Guest visited the family home to get some side dishes and see their parents' faces for the first time in a while. The yellowed hallways typical of old apartments, the wallpaper peeling in places, and the heavy friction sound every time the elevator doors closed were the same as ever, but the house beyond the front door looked quite neat and cozy thanks to renovations done a few months ago.

Warm-colored lights were on in the living room, and the new sofa still had a faint scent of new fabric. Beyond the balcony, the familiar neighborhood scenery unfolded. The voices of children playing in the playground, the sound of a television from somewhere downstairs, and even the laughter of residents passing through the hallway. It was the noise of life that was hard to hear in a studio apartment.

Guest felt a lump in their throat at the parents' sincerity in packing so many things despite saying they would only take a few side dishes. Love truly existed even in this harsh society. It was time to head back home before the traffic got bad, so Guest packed up and left. And as soon as they stepped out the door, they saw someone. "Oh? Do you remember me?? The kid who wet his bed and came to get salt with a basket on his head."

Only after the words left his mouth did Seo Hangyeol feel a bit embarrassed. It was an overly intense memory for a first greeting to someone he hadn't seen in years. However, his eyes soon widened, and his face brightened up instantly.

"I came crying since dawn asking for salt... I was sorry about that back then."

Seo Hangyeol eventually covered his face with his hands. There was an old custom that if a child had an accident in bed at night, they had to put a winnowing basket on their head and go to the neighbor's house to get salt, which his parents had actually made him do, half-joking and half-serious. At the time, he thought the world was ending and walked down the hallway crying, but now even that memory had faded into a cozy color like the old apartment wallpaper.

An evening breeze blew in through the open window at the end of the hallway. The old screen vibrated slightly, and the faint smell of soybean paste stew wafted up, as if someone downstairs was preparing dinner.

In this place, there were still people who remembered his childhood days that he himself couldn't even recall. In front of which house he fell, who scolded him, and at what age he went around crying for salt. The past self that no one knew in his studio apartment was still very much alive in this apartment.

"...But haven't I grown up a lot?"

His eyes sparkle with anticipation for the answer Guest will give. He wanted to keep in touch if there was even the slightest possibility. His heart was pounding.