The rhythmic hum of the espresso machine filled the air, blending seamlessly with the low chatter of customers scattered around Hana's Rooftop. For Hana Lee, the café wasn't just a business; it was a lifeline. Nestled atop a modest building in the bustling streets of Hongdae, it stood as a sanctuary for dreamers, artists, and anyone in need of a quiet corner. The eclectic mix of vintage posters, mismatched chairs, and fairy lights draped across the ceiling gave it a warmth that couldn't be bought—a reflection of Hana herself.
"Hana, table four wants more cream for their coffee," Joon's voice called from the register, his tone tinged with both urgency and familiarity.
"Got it," Hana replied, grabbing a small ceramic pitcher and weaving through the tight spaces of the café. She wore her usual uniform of a simple black tee and a flour-dusted apron, her long hair tied back into a ponytail. Business was steady, but steady wasn't enough. Not with rent creeping higher every year and the endless repairs that came with running an old rooftop café.
Joon Park had been her best friend since grade school and now her unofficial business partner. If Hana was the heart of the café, Joon was the backbone, always steady and reliable. He had a knack for reading customers, defusing complaints with his quick wit and charming smile.
As Hana approached table four, the bell above the café door jingled. She glanced up instinctively, her hands steady even as her focus faltered for a fraction of a second.
He was tall, dressed in an impeccably tailored blazer over a casual white shirt, his jet-black hair artfully tousled. The stranger didn't just enter the room; he commanded it. Hana had seen plenty of customers come and go, but something about him was different. His presence carried a quiet confidence that turned heads without trying.
Daniel Kang—though Hana didn't know his name yet—paused in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping across the eclectic decor. He'd seen countless upscale lounges and five-star restaurants, but this place was different. It was warm, lived-in, and undeniably authentic. It wasn't the kind of spot that would normally catch his attention, yet here he was. Something about the glowing rooftop sign had pulled him in, almost as if by fate.
Hana cleared her throat, shaking off whatever fleeting thought had crossed her mind, and turned her attention back to the table in front of her. She wasn't about to let some sharply dressed stranger throw her off her game. She set the pitcher down with a small smile, then made her way back to the counter, shooting Joon a quick glance to signal, handle the new customer.
But Daniel had already bypassed the "Please Wait to Be Seated" sign entirely. He moved with an ease that suggested rules didn't apply to him. Joon, visibly annoyed, straightened his posture behind the counter.
"Welcome to Hana's Rooftop. Do you have a reservation?" Joon's tone was polite but carried a hint of edge.
Daniel arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Didn't realize I needed one."
"We're pretty busy," Joon replied, crossing his arms in a clear challenge.
Before the situation could escalate, Hana stepped in. She wiped her hands on her apron and shot Joon a pointed look before turning to the stranger. "It's fine, Joon. We'll find him a seat." Her tone was calm but firm.
Turning to Daniel, she added, "Follow me." Without waiting for a response, she led him through the narrow aisles to a corner table by the window. The soft glow of the city lights filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the space.
"Menu's on the table," Hana said curtly. "Let me know when you're ready."
"Thanks," Daniel replied, his tone surprisingly earnest. He settled into his seat, his fingers brushing against the edge of the worn wooden table. As his gaze wandered, it inevitably found its way back to Hana. There was something about her—an air of quiet determination that intrigued him. She wasn't like the polished socialites he was used to, with their perfectly rehearsed smiles and shallow conversations. Hana was real, unpolished, and captivating in a way he couldn't quite put into words.
Hana, meanwhile, did her best to ignore the stranger's lingering gaze. She had enough on her plate without getting distracted by mysterious newcomers. The café was her priority, her responsibility. There was no room for daydreams, no matter how sharp someone's jawline was.
"You okay?" Joon asked quietly when she returned to the counter. His eyes flicked toward Daniel's table, his suspicion evident.
"Fine," Hana replied briskly, grabbing an order slip and pen. She wasn't in the mood for one of Joon's lectures about how she let people get away with too much.
But even as she busied herself with work, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. There was a strange energy in the air, an undercurrent that hadn't been there before. Hana had learned to trust her instincts, and they were telling her that this wasn't just a random encounter. It was the beginning of something—a change, a storm, or perhaps, both.
The night deepened, and the pace of the café began to slow. Hana moved efficiently, clearing tables and refilling the sugar jars at the counter. Her muscles ached, but she didn't mind. This was her life, and she had learned to find solace in the steady rhythm of her work. Yet tonight felt different, as if the air itself was charged with possibilities she couldn't quite grasp.
From his corner table, Daniel remained an enigma. He'd ordered a simple Americano and spent the past hour alternating between scrolling on his phone and gazing out the window. Occasionally, his eyes would flit toward Hana, observing her with a quiet intensity that made her spine tingle.
Finally, as the café neared closing time, Daniel rose from his seat. Hana noticed the movement from the corner of her eye but kept her focus on wiping down the counter. He approached slowly, his steps deliberate, and stopped just short of the register.
"It's a nice place you have here," he said, his voice smooth but sincere.
Hana looked up, her expression guarded. "Thanks. Glad you liked it."
He hesitated for a moment, then extended a hand. "Daniel Kang."
She blinked, caught off guard by the introduction. After a beat, she wiped her hand on her apron and shook his. "Hana Lee."
His grip was firm but not overbearing, and for the briefest moment, Hana felt a spark of curiosity—and maybe, just maybe, something more.
"I'll be back," Daniel said, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Next time, maybe you'll have time to chat."
Hana didn't respond, but her heart did a little flip she chose to ignore. As Daniel walked out into the night, she couldn't help but feel that her world had tilted ever so slightly on its axis.