Back in the city, Jihoon stood outside Mingwa's apartment, his brows furrowed in concern. He had been trying to reach her for hours, but all his calls had gone unanswered. Normally, Mingwa would send a text, at least. But this silence? It wasn't like her.
Jihoon knocked again, harder this time. "Mingwa! It's Jihoon! Are you home?"
Nothing.
His concern deepened, and he tried the door. It was locked, but something about the quiet unsettled him. He knew Mingwa well enough to know that she wouldn't just vanish without a word—unless something was really wrong.
Pulling out his phone, Jihoon quickly dialed her number again, pacing as it rang. Voicemail. He cursed under his breath, frustration and worry gnawing at him.
Deciding he couldn't wait any longer, Jihoon used the spare key Mingwa had given him months ago and unlocked the door. The apartment was still, eerily so.
