An Eminent White Pearl, Lexus RX 350, pulled to a smooth stop in front of a modest corner shop tucked into an aging intersection. A worn, wooden sign swung gently above the entrance, creaking in the breeze:
[Jack's Photo Framing]
The driver's door opened with a quiet click. A man in a fitted black suit stepped out, he was tall, sharp-jawed, with windswept chestnut-brown hair and a smile that carried both warmth and gravity.
His presence turned heads instantly. Women passing by slowed their steps. Even a few men stole second glances.
It was Lee Ji-Hoon.
He took a few steps forward, gazing silently at the storefront. His deep brown eyes shimmered, caught in a mixture of disbelief and quiet awe.
"Finally…" he murmured.
The passenger door opened behind him, and a stockier man in a charcoal vest jogged around the car. He came to a halt beside Ji-Hoon, casually adjusting the cigar between his lips.
Puff
"So?" the man asked, voice raspy and dry. "How do you like it? The boys'll bring the gear and furniture in later."
"I do," Ji-Hoon replied softly, his eyes still fixed on the shop. Then, slowly, he turned to the man. His voice sharpened. "Croft."
Croft blinked. "What?"
Ji-Hoon's gaze flicked down to the cigar.
Croft looked at the cigar… then back at Ji-Hoon. Realization hit.
"Ahhh, damn. Forgot you hate smoke."
Ji-Hoon didn't answer, only continued staring, lips tight.
Croft groaned under his breath and rolled his eyes."Okay, okay, man. I get it."
He pulled the cigar from his mouth and dropped it to the ground, stomping it out with a crunch of his heel."There. Happy?"
Ji-Hoon gave a small nod before finally turning his eyes back to the store.
He pushed open the old creaking door. Dust swirled around him as he stepped inside. Piles of broken wood, cracked shelves, and remnants of furniture lay scattered across the floor. The walls were smeared with grime, paint peeling in long curls.
Croft followed behind him. "The previous owner just moved to the states, so we got a good deal. You can check upstairs too." He pointed to a wooden staircase.
Ji-Hoon climbed the steps slowly, each one groaning beneath his feet. When he reached the second floor, his eyes were drawn to a window at the far end.
Creak.
He opened the old wooden window. A gust of wind rushed in, stirring the dust and flooding the room with light.
"Cough… cough… It definitely needs cleaning," he muttered, leaning on the window frame. The breeze tousled his hair as he looked down at the street below.
He took a deep breath of fresh air… and exhaled slowly, gaze lingering. And just like that, his mind drifted back to the past.
* * * * *
15 years ago…
The old chapel bell rang faintly in the distance as sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of the orphanage.
The 12-year-old, younger Ji-Hoon sat by himself on the farthest pew, chin tucked between his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. The other children were playing outside, but he remained there, unmoving.
He hated it when new people came. After all, they all left eventually.
And today, yet another volunteer was being introduced.
"Everyone, say hello to Yoon-Ah noona!" the head nun chimed cheerfully. The kids echoed back a chorus of "hello"s, excited more by her voice than her name.
Ji-Hoon didn't even lift his head.
The head nun continued, "Okay, everyone, Yoon-Ah noona is gonna teach you all how to bake, okay?"
The children cheered in excitement.
"Are we gonna make cakes?"
"I want strawberry cakes!"
Later that day, when the children gathered in the small kitchen for a baking session, Ji-Hoon stayed in the hallway, half-hidden behind the wall.
"You don't want to bake?" a soft voice asked from beside him.
Startled, Ji-Hoon looked up. It was her... the new noona.
He scowled slightly. "No."
"Hmm…" Yoon-Ah tilted her head. "I guess that's okay. But what if I told you we're making melonpan? The kind with the crispy top and fluffy center?"
Ji-Hoon's lips parted slightly. His stomach betrayed him with a growl.
She laughed. "That was louder than expected."
"…I'm not interested."
"Are you sure~? I'll save you one. The best-looking one."
Ji-Hoon didn't respond, but he didn't leave either. And when she brought him a still-warm melonpan later, he took it. He didn't say thank you. Not then.
But he didn't skip her class after that.
* * *
Days turned into weeks. Yoon-Ah started visiting more often, always bringing a new recipe, always teaching him something new. She was patient. She never pried into his past. And Ji-Hoon slowly began to warm up.
One day, as he kneaded dough beside her, he asked, "Why do you come here?"
She smiled without pausing her movements. "Because I like being here. Besides, I used to be here too, did you know?"
"Yes, I heard from the nuns. But you're in university, right? You could do anything else."
"I study nutrition," she said. "But baking… it feels like giving someone a little happiness they can taste."
Ji-Hoon looked down at his flour-covered hands."You should open a bakery."
She laughed. "I've thought about it, but you know it's not an easy task."
"I'll buy you one," he said seriously.
Yoon-Ah blinked in surprise."When I grow up and get rich, I'll buy you the biggest bakery in the city."
"Well, then I'll start thinking of names," she teased. "How about… 'Yoon-Ah and Ji-Hoon Bakery'?"
He flushed. "That sounds lame."
"Oh, really?" she grinned, ruffling his hair.
* * *
But things started to change.
She began missing visits. Her vibrant face grew pale. Sometimes she sat more than she stood. She brushed it off "Just tired from school. Finals, you know."
Ji-Hoon wasn't convinced.
Then, one rainy evening, she didn't show up at all. The nuns whispered about her condition, careful not to let the kids hear. But Ji-Hoon wasn't just any kid, he was old enough to understand.
He ran to the chapel, found the Sister in charge, and demanded, "Where is she?!"
"…She's at the hospital."
He ran there with the head nun as fast as he could. The room smelled of antiseptic and artificial lemon. Yoon-Ah looked thinner under the white sheets, an IV connected to her arm.
When she opened her eyes, her lips curved into a tired smile."You came…"
"You didn't say anything." His voice cracked. "Why didn't you say anything?!"
She reached out weakly, resting her hand on his."Because I didn't want to be remembered like this," she whispered. "I wanted you to remember the melonpan. The warm oven. Not this cold place."
He held her hand tightly."You promised to wait until I bought the bakery."
"I know," she smiled. "But maybe in another life…"
"Don't joke like that! You have to get better, okay?!"
Tears streamed down his face.
"I will," she promised. "Until then, you'll buy me that bakery, right?" she smiled faintly.
"I will," he promised back, fighting to keep his voice steady.
She passed away two weeks later.
The chapel was silent during her funeral, except for the sound of rain on the roof. Ji-Hoon didn't cry in public. But that night, he stayed in the kitchen alone, her picture in his hands, crying for the first time since his parents died.
That night was the last time he cried.
"I will keep my promise…" he murmured, clutching her photo tightly.
* * * * *
Back to the present…
Ji-Hoon looked through the window, his eyes on the sky."…Noona, I kept my promise. You can see it, right?" he whispered.
The wind ruffled his hair. For a moment, it felt like she was there.
"Hey! Ji-Hoon! The guys just came, they're waiting for your call to begin!" Croft called from the stairs.
"Coming!" Ji-Hoon replied, stepping away from the window.
He looked at the cleaners and finishing workers, his eyes sweeping across the old shop.
"Okay, guys. Let's make this place good."