The train's horn blasted through the cool early morning air, a long cry that signaled its departure. Steam billowed from the engine, clouding the platform in a heavy, white mist. A young woman barely glanced back as she raced forward, cutting through the crowd and the haze like a swift shadow. Her breath came in sharp bursts, but her feet moved faster than the pounding of her heart, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"Miss Yu-jin! Wait!" The desperate voice of an elderly maid, her tone cracked with exhaustion, echoed down the platform.

Yu-jin could hear the sound of her old caretaker's footsteps behind her, stumbling and uneven, but she didn't stop. Not yet. Her long blonde hair, a rare hue in the region, was tied up in a loose, hasty knot that allowed a few rebellious strands to escape, whipping around her face as she ran. Beneath the cap perched atop her head, her sharp emerald eyes glinted with determination and excitement. Her grip tightened on the small leather satchel hanging by her side, the only possession she had taken with her from the place she'd sworn to leave behind.

The maid, her wrinkled hands clutching at her apron, called out again, her voice straining as she ran. "Miss Yu-jin, please!"

Yu-jin's jaw clenched, her eyes fixed on the train ahead, the final car already heaving as passengers settled inside. She knew she was cutting it close. Too close.

Behind her, the maid's voice grew more distant, each call more breathless than the last. "Miss Yu-jin! Yu-jin! Come... come back... home!"

Yu-jin's heart twisted. She knew Hwa-Nyeon had always cared for her like her own, but that house—no, that cage—was no longer hers. She couldn't turn back. She wouldn't. The final blast of the train's whistle rang through the air. Yu-jin's breath caught in her throat. She was only a few steps away now, her hand outstretched toward the metal railing of the nearest car.

One step. Two. She could feel the train pulling away from the platform, the gap between her and the departing car widening.

"Yu-jin!"

The sound of her name, this time filled with more sorrow than desperation, caused Yu-jin to falter. She turned her head for a brief moment, just long enough to see Hwa-Nyeon standing several meters behind, her face lined with worry, her chest heaving. The sight was almost enough to stop her in her tracks. Almost.

But Yu-jin's resolve, hardened over months of planning, surged forward again. Without another glance, she leaped, catching the railing with both hands just as the train began to roll forward, her feet finding purchase on the iron step.

The maid's voice was lost in the clatter of wheels on tracks, swallowed by the roar of the departing train. As Yu-jin clung to the rail, her chest rising and falling, she didn't allow herself to look back again.

She wore the attire of a messenger boy—a simple, well-worn brown jacket that fit snugly over her slender frame, paired with trousers of the same shade. The outfit, functional and modest, was completed by sturdy boots that thudded against the wooden planks of the platform with each step. A sling bag, worn across her chest, bounced lightly at her side, hinting at the freedom she carried in its small, nondescript contents.

"Goodbye, Na-Hweon!" she waved at the maid, her left feet slightly lifting off from the floor as she's leaning onto the rail.

Her cap, tilted just slightly, shielded part of her face, but it couldn't hide the wide grin that stretched across her lips. There was a sense of mischief in her appearance, as if she had stepped out of one life and into another entirely her own. She fixed her hair and tucked them under her cap, fully embracing her disguise.

Yu-jin stepped into the dimly lit train car, her boots clacking softly against the worn wooden floor. The faint smell of coal lingered in the air, mingling with other less pleasant scents—cigarettes, perfumes, and the distinct musk of travelers who had spent hours confined within the cramped compartments. "Ee-uck..." She wrinkled her nose, scanning the rows of seats.

The train wasn't too crowded, but it wasn't empty either. She could afford to be picky, and picky she was. A window seat, she preferred, glancing past a group of men whose loud voices grated on her nerves. They were laughing boisterously, the scent of tobacco thick around them. She moved further down the aisle, bypassing a pair of children climbing over each other and giggling, their mother too exhausted to stop them.

Her pace slowed as she passed a small group of women, their strong floral perfumes creating an invisible cloud she had no desire to walk through. They were chatting excitedly, hands flying in expressive gestures, their laughter shrill and high-pitched. She hated the stench of tobacco, the loudness of the children, and the mixing scents of the perfumes. Yu-jin grimaced and kept walking.

Each step took her deeper, and she began to wonder if she would have to settle for less than her ideal spot. She was just about to give up when, at the far end, she found it—a window seat, blissfully unoccupied. But what caught her attention more was the woman seated in front of it.

She looked about Yu-jin's age, with dark hair that fell softly around her face, contrasting the sunlight streaming through the window. Her chin was resting on her palm, elbow propped up on the windowsill, and she was staring outside with a distant, almost serious expression. Her brown eyes were half-lidded, lost in thought, as if the world inside the train didn't exist for her.

Yu-jin paused, weighing her options. The woman seemed quiet, uninterested in the chaos around her, which suited Yu-jin perfectly. With a quick, decisive nod, Yu-jin made her way toward the seat, her satchel bouncing lightly against her hip. She peeked one last time at the woman before placing her hand on the seat's backrest.

"Mind if I sit here?" Yu-jin asked, her voice soft but clear.

The woman blinked, startled out of her reverie, and turned slowly to look at Yu-jin. There was a moment of quiet before she looked away and gave a small nod.

Nodding at my reflection on the window, huh... Yu-jin slipped into the seat beside her, settling her bag in her lap and leaning back with a sigh of relief. The scent of fresh air flowed through the slightly open window, carrying the faint smell of trees and distant fields.

Yu-jin settled into the seat across from the woman, unfolding the crinkled newspaper she had tucked under her arm. The silence between them was comfortable, a rare luxury in the crowded train, and for a moment, she allowed herself to simply enjoy it. Her eyes skimmed over the headlines, though her mind wasn't fully engaged. It had been a long morning, and her thoughts wandered as she half-heartedly flipped through the pages.

After a few minutes, she glanced up, her gaze drifting to the window beside the woman. The landscape blurred past in streaks of green and gold, but it wasn't the scenery that held Yu-jin's attention. Instead, her eyes caught the faint reflection of the woman in the glass.

But just as she was about to look away, the woman stirred. Her eyes flicked to the side, catching Yu-jin's gaze in the reflection. Startled, she quickly averted her eyes and hid her face behind a curtain of her dark hair, using her hand to cover part of her cheek.

Yu-jin couldn't help but find it endearing. A small, amused smile tugged at her lips as she pretended to refocus on her newspaper, though her attention lingered on the shy gesture. Cute, she thought to herself. For a while, the sound of rustling paper and the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels filled the air between them. Yu-jin continued reading, though the content of the newspaper barely registered in her mind.

When she finally finished, folding the paper neatly and setting it on her lap, the air inside the compartment felt stuffier than before. The train had begun to pick up speed, and the warm afternoon sun filtering through the windows made the space feel slightly oppressive. Yu-jin turned to look out her own window, then back at the woman across from her.

"Would it be alright if I opened the window a bit more?" Yu-jin asked, her tone light, as she gestured toward the already slightly open pane next to the woman.

The woman glanced at her, hesitating for a moment before nodding. "Sure," the stranger murmured, her voice barely audible.

Yu-jin leaned forward and carefully slid the window further open, letting in a fresh gust of cool air that swept through the compartment. She sat back, breathing in deeply as the breeze carried the scent of pine trees and earth. "That's much better."

The woman remained silent but seemed a bit more at ease, her posture relaxing slightly as the wind tousled her hair. Yu-jin watched her for a second longer, wondering what story lay behind those distant brown eyes, but decided against prying—at least for now. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, content to enjoy the quiet for just a little while longer.

Yu-jin watched the scenery outside, her curiosity starting to outweigh her desire for quiet. She had always been the type to break the silence, to fill the gaps with conversation. And besides, there was something about this mysterious stranger that piqued her interest.

Sitting up a little straighter, Yu-jin offered a small, easy smile. "I'm Yu-jin, by the way," she said, her voice warm and casual, as if she were speaking to an old friend rather than a stranger. "You don't have to tell me your name if you don't want to, but... well, it'd be nice to know who I'm sitting with."

The woman blinked, her brown eyes flickering with a mix of surprise and hesitation. For a moment, Yu-jin wasn't sure if she'd respond at all. There was a palpable pause, a tension in the air, as if the stranger was weighing her options.

Eventually, the woman turned her gaze from the window to meet Yu-jin's eyes. Her lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but she seemed to reconsider. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers brushing the stray strands of hair from her face. Then, with a quiet, almost reluctant voice, she finally spoke. "Soo-yeon."

Her name came out softly, almost like a whisper carried away by the wind. There was no follow-up, no further explanation, and Yu-jin could sense the hesitation lingering behind those two simple syllables. Soo-yeon didn't offer anything more—no backstory, no pleasantries. Just her name, as if that alone was all she could give.

Yu-jin, always one to notice these things, didn't push. Instead, she nodded, her smile unwavering, and leaned back against her seat once more. "Soo-yeon," she repeated thoughtfully, letting the name roll off her tongue. "It's a nice name."

Soo-yeon didn't react, her expression still guarded, her eyes returning to the window as though the conversation had already ended. Yu-jin, however, wasn't deterred. She could tell when someone wanted to keep their walls up, and she respected that. After all, she knew all about walls—she'd built plenty of her own over the years.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Soo-yeon," Yu-jin said with a soft chuckle, settling back into the seat. "I guess we're just two travelers on the same path for now." Soo-yeon didn't respond, but Yu-jin didn't mind.

She settled further into her seat, watching the passing landscape. She felt the weight of Soo-yeon's silence, but instead of letting it suffocate the atmosphere, she decided to push through with her usual lighthearted energy.

"You know," Yu-jin started, her fingers fiddling with the leather strap of her satchel. "I always like to keep something with me to remember home by." She reached into the bag and, after rummaging around for a moment, pulled out a small, worn photograph. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she stared down at it.

The picture was slightly faded, the edges creased from years of handling. It showed a large, fluffy dog—a Golden Retriever with soft, honey-colored fur—sitting proudly in front of a garden. Its tongue hung out in a joyful, lopsided grin, eyes sparkling with an unmistakable warmth. Yu-jin ran her thumb over the image, her expression softening.

"This is him," she said quietly, holding the picture up for her to see. "His name was Haru. I got him when I was a kid—he was with me through everything. Honestly, he was probably my best friend." Yu-jin chuckled softly, but there was a bittersweet edge to her voice. "He passed away last year. Old age. But I keep this picture with me. Makes me feel like he's still around, you know?"

Soo-yeon's eyes flickered toward the photograph for the briefest moment before turning back to the window. Her face remained unreadable, and she didn't say anything, but Yu-jin wasn't discouraged.

"Funny thing is, Haru was always getting into trouble," Yu-jin continued with a grin. "He used to dig holes in the garden, chew on my stuff, and bark at the mailman like it was his sworn duty to protect the house. But, even with all the chaos he caused, he had this way of making everything feel… better. Like no matter what happened, he was always there to remind me that the world wasn't such a bad place after all."

She paused, glancing at Soo-yeon's still figure. The other woman hadn't spoken, hadn't given any sign of interest, but Yu-jin kept going, her voice softer now, more thoughtful.

"After he passed, the house felt so quiet. It was weird, you know? Like, you don't really notice how much space someone—something—takes up in your life until they're not there anymore."

Yu-jin shifted in her seat, carefully tucking the photo back into her bag. The clattering of the train filled the space between them, but Yu-jin didn't mind the silence. She was used to talking, to filling the void with her words, and Soo-yeon's quiet presence didn't bother her. If anything, it felt nice to talk without needing a response.

"I think that's why I'm out here," she mused after a while, leaning back with a wistful smile. "I needed to get away from the quiet. Needed to find something else, maybe a new adventure. I don't know, it just felt like staying still wasn't an option anymore."

Soo-yeon didn't look at her, didn't react to her words, but Yu-jin could sense that the woman was listening. There was something about her stillness, the way her fingers occasionally twitched as if she was holding back from saying something.

Yu-jin smiled to herself, letting the wind from the open window tousle her hair again. "Anyway," she said with a light laugh, "that's Haru. My partner in crime. Well, he was, at least."

The train continued its rhythmic clatter down the tracks, and the air inside the compartment grew warm with the afternoon sun. Yu-jin leaned back, her thoughts drifting as she observed the passing landscape, the vibrant greens and golden fields blurring.

After a moment, she glanced sideways at Soo-yeon, still lost in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the world outside. Yu-jin admired the way the sunlight highlighted the gentle contours of Soo-yeon's face, but there was a weight in her silence that intrigued Yu-jin.

Just when Yu-jin was about to speak again, Soo-yeon shifted slightly in her seat, breaking her stillness. She hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing as she gathered her thoughts.

"That sounds… nice," Soo-yeon finally said, her voice soft and tentative. "Your dog. Haru." She turned her gaze from the window to meet Yu-jin's eyes, and there was a flicker of something in her expression—perhaps curiosity, or understanding.

Yu-jin's heart leaped at the sound of Soo-yeon's voice, the way it cut through the air with a gentle warmth. "Yeah, he was the best," Yu-jin replied, a bright smile spreading across her face. "He had this way of brightening up every room he entered. You could never be sad around him."

Soo-yeon nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands. "I understand. Pets… they become family, don't they? It's hard when they're gone."

Yu-jin felt a sudden swell of empathy. "It really is. They're there for all the ups and downs, and then, poof, they're gone. But I guess the memories make it a little easier, right? To remember the good times?"

Soo-yeon looked up again, her brown eyes meeting Yu-jin's.

"I think it's also a way of keeping them alive. Talking about them, remembering the good things. That's how we honor their memory, right?" Yu-jin shifted more comfortably on her seat.

For the first time, Soo-yeon smiled, a small but genuine expression that illuminated her face.

Yu-jin felt a warmth spread in her chest at that smile. "So, do you have any good memories you'd like to share?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Soo-yeon's smile faded slightly, and she shifted her gaze back to the window, her brow furrowing again. "I… I'd rather not," she said, her voice soft and a bit distant.

Yu-jin picked up on the hesitation, her instinct telling her to tread lightly. "That's totally okay," she replied, her tone encouraging. "You don't have to share if you don't want to. I get it—some things are just personal."

A silence fell between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Yu-jin could sense that Soo-yeon was still processing, perhaps deciding how much to reveal. The train rumbled along, the landscape shifting in flashes of color outside the window.

"I just… prefer to keep those memories to myself," Soo-yeon finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's easier that way."

"Easier how?" Yu-jin pressed gently, wanting to understand.

Soo-yeon hesitated again, then took a deep breath. "Sometimes talking about them makes it feel more real, like it's happening all over again. I'd rather just hold on to the good feelings without bringing them into the light."

Yu-jin nodded slowly, respecting the other woman's choice. "I can understand that. It can be hard to relive those moments. I guess we all have our ways of coping."

Soo-yeon seemed to relax a little at Yu-jin's understanding. "Exactly," she said, her gaze softening. "It's nice to talk about things without feeling pressured to share everything."

Yu-jin smiled, feeling the weight of their shared moment. "I can share more about Haru if that helps. I have tons of photos, too." She reached into her satchel, pulling out a small, worn-out photo album.

"Look, this was one of my favorites." She flipped open the album to reveal a picture of a young Haru, his fur a mix of golden and brown, tongue lolling out in a big, goofy grin. "This was taken the day I adopted him. He was just a little fluffball back then."

Soo-yeon's eyes flickered to the photo, a faint smile tugging at her lips again. "He looks happy."

"He was!" Yu-jin laughed, remembering the day vividly. "We went to the park right after, and he just ran in circles, chasing after anything that moved. I think he thought he could catch the wind."

"Dogs really do know how to enjoy life," Soo-yeon mused, her tone a little lighter.

"Exactly! It's one of the things I miss most about him—his sheer joy in the simplest things." Yu-jin flipped to another page, revealing more pictures of Haru playing in the snow, rolling in the grass, and sleeping soundly on a sunny patch of the floor.

As she talked, Yu-jin noticed Soo-yeon leaning in slightly, her interest piqued despite herself. "Here's one from last winter," Yu-jin said, pointing to a photo of Haru with tiny snowflakes dusting his fur. "He'd never seen snow before, and he was so confused at first, like, 'what's this stuff?'"

Soo-yeon chuckled softly, the sound brightening the air between them. "He looks adorable."

"Right?" Yu-jin replied, feeling a warmth spread through her. "I think the best part was how he would just leap into the snow, paws flying everywhere. It was like he forgot all about being a dog and just became pure joy."

The compartment was filled with the rhythmic sound of the train and the occasional creak of the metal. Yu-jin found herself reveling in the memories, the laughter, and the shared connection with the woman beside her, even if they hadn't yet exchanged all their secrets.

Soo-yeon seemed to relax further, her posture loosening as she watched Yu-jin with a hint of admiration. "It's nice to hear how much you loved him." she said quietly.

"I still do," Yu-jin replied, her voice steady. "And I always will. Those memories are like little treasures."

For a moment, they both sat in silence, the weight of unspoken understanding lingering between them. Yu-jin hoped that in sharing her story, she'd given Soo-yeon a glimpse of the connection they could share, even if Soo-yeon remained guarded.

"Do you have any pets now?" Soo-yeon asked, a note of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Yu-jin shook her head. "Not yet. I think I need some time before I'm ready for another one. But I definitely want to adopt again when I feel ready. It's just hard to imagine anyone else taking Haru's place."

"I can understand that," Soo-yeon said softly, and for the first time, her voice held a warmth that reached beyond the barrier she'd built around herself.

Yu-jin smiled, feeling hopeful. "When the time comes, I'll be sure to share those stories with you too. So, where are you headed?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.

Soo-yeon hesitated, her gaze flickering for a moment. "I'm going to the capital city." She finally replied, her voice steady but quiet.

Yu-jin's eyes widened in excitement. "No way! I'm headed there too! What a coincidence!"

Soo-yeon's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of surprise in her expression. "It is a coincidence..." She said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah," Yu-jin agreed, her tone filled with optimism. "I'm starting a new life there. It feels thrilling, but honestly, a bit scary too, you know?" She paused, contemplating the weight of her words. "Leaving everything behind… it's a lot."

Soo-yeon nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a shared understanding. "I guess it can be both liberating and daunting."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts about what awaited them in the capital. After a while, the train began to slow, the rhythmic clattering of the wheels giving way to a gentle halt. Yu-jin peered out the window, her heart racing at the sight of the bustling station ahead. "Looks like we're almost there!" she said, glancing back at Soo-yeon.

When the train finally came to a complete stop, they both stood up, gathering their belongings. Yu-jin felt a rush of anticipation as she adjusted her satchel, eager to step into the new chapter of her life. She turned to the brunette with a bright smile. "It was really nice talking to you. I hope we bump into each other again."

"Me too," Soo-yeon replied, her smile genuine but tinged with an underlying hesitation. It was clear she was a woman of few words, yet there was a warmth in her voice that resonated with Yu-jin.

As they stepped off the train onto the platform, the noise of the station enveloped them. A symphony of voices filled the air, punctuated by the screech of wheels against tracks and the distant announcements echoing overhead. The scent of fresh pastries and coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the station.

Yu-jin felt a rush of exhilaration wash over her, her heart pounding with the thrill of new beginnings. "Goodbye!" she said, waving enthusiastically as she began to move toward the exit. Soo-yeon only waved back before she turned and walked away.

Just as Yu-jin shifted, a sudden realization hit her like a wave. She hadn't asked for Soo-yeon's contact, not even a place where they may likeky bump into each other again in the future. It had slipped her mind completely in the excitement of their conversation.

"Soo-yeon!" she shouted, spinning around, eyes darting through the sea of travelers. But Soo-yeon was already gone, lost in the swarm of people rushing to their destinations. Yu-jin stood still, rooted to the platform, her pulse quickening with disappointment. How could she have forgotten?

For a moment, she hesitated, hoping for one last glimpse. But the station buzzed on, indifferent to her hope. With a sigh, Yu-jin turned back toward the exit. This was just the start. A wry smile touched her lips as she walked toward the exit, the din of the station growing softer behind her..