📺 | A New Face in Ssangmun-dong

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Ssangmun-dong, 1988. Late afternoon.

The sun cast a golden warmth over the narrow alleys of Ssangmun-dong. A moving truck slowly pulled into the neighborhood, followed by an expensive-looking burgundy sedan. Its polished exterior and sleek design looked almost too modern for the humble blocks of Seoul’s northern district.

From the grocery store across the street, Sun-woo's mom Kim Sun-young tilted her head. “Omo... they’ve finally arrived,” she whispered, already elbowing Deok-sun’s mom Lee Il-hwa, who squinted past her reading glasses.

“Is that a Benz?”
“Must be. Wah, that’s not just any car, unnie.”
“Do you think they’re rich?”
“What if the mom is a widow?”
“Wahhh...”

The moms murmured in a little circle of their big wooden bench, peeling sweet potatoes while their gossip spiraled, as it always did.

From a nearby porch, Dong-ryong peeked over his comic book. “Eh? That’s the house next to ours.” He jumped up, running to the front gate. Jung-hwan, who was bouncing a soccer ball lazily on the pavement, paused mid-dribble.

“Looks like someone’s moving in next to you, dumbass,” he said.

“Yah, what if she’s pretty?” Dong-ryong grinned.

“Why would that matter to you?”

Meanwhile, Choi Taek, Inside his room above the Baduk Hall, Choi Taek sat cross-legged, stones in hand, practicing a difficult corner formation. His eyes were focused—but not entirely. The distant noise of the truck's brakes made him pause mid-move.

Curious, he set the white stone down gently and turned to glance out the window.

Outside, two women stepped out of the car. The first was likely the mother—tall, graceful, dressed in an office blazer. The second was a girl around his age. She wore a light pastel cardigan over a white blouse, a flowing skirt brushing her calves, and simple Mary Janes. Her hair was clipped back loosely.

Her look was... soft. Not just in clothes—but in the way she stood, quietly taking in her surroundings like she was bracing herself. She didn’t wave. She didn’t smile. She just stood there, composed and calm. Like a lone flower blooming on a chilly day.

From the street below, Lee Il-hwa had already begun her whispering campaign, waving Kim Sun-young over with Jung-hwan's mom Ra Mi-ran as they peeled sweet potatoes in tandem.

“The girl must be her daughter. She looks fragile, poor thing.”
“She’s not even carrying boxes. Do you think she’s sick?”
“No, no... she’s just quiet. Look at her posture. That’s not weak. That’s manners.”

Back in his room, Taek watched silently.

She reminded him of something—no, someone. Maybe even himself. Not in appearance, but in stillness. In how the world seemed to move around her, but not through her.

The black stone slipped slightly in his hand, and he stared down at the board, lost in thought. He didn’t know why, but a strange calm swept over him.

Maybe it was the girl’s presence.
Or maybe it was the way she didn’t need to say anything... to still be seen.