By Ji-eun
Sunday morning. Clear sky.
The café is closed to customers.
But not to him. Dok-hee arrives early, as always.
Only today he brings something new: a folding baduk board, made of dark wood with silver trim.
"You said you were going to play," he says, placing it on the counter.
"Then play."
Without ordering coffee.
He just opens the board.
He asks for the stones.
I serve two coffees.
Black.
No sugar.
Just how he likes it.
We sit down.
Silence.
Neither of us speaks.
Only the sound of the stones hitting the wood.
A click.
Another.
Like heartbeats.
He plays in a controlled way.
Each movement calculated.
But not cruel.
He leaves space.
As if giving me room to breathe.
I place a stone in the center.
Again.
He smiles—almost imperceptibly.
And answers beside me.
He doesn't attack. He invites.
I look at him.
His golden eyes gleam in the morning light.
There's no coldness.
There's something I don't understand…
but I feel it.
"Why did you come?" I ask, after several minutes.
"Really."
He positions another stone.
"Because you placed the white stone in the center. And I couldn't leave the challenge unanswered."
"Is that all?"
"No." He raises his eyes. "But the rest…
can't be put into words.
Only into games."
I drink my coffee.
The silence returns.
But now it's warm.
Like the steam from the cup.
For a moment, I forget Jinyang's letter. I forget the broken window. I forget the bills. We only exist:
me, him, and the silent battlefield between us.
----------------------------------------------------------
Then the doorbell rings.
Park Seung-ho.
With two men in suits and a thick briefcase.
"You scheduled a meeting with Jinyang Development," he says, without greeting. "I'm here to finalize the proposal."
Dok-hee slowly stands up. Doesn't speak.
Just picks up the board.
And stops beside me.
"You can wait outside," I tell him quietly.
He looks at me. Nods. Leaves.
But leaves the black stone on the table.
Next to my white one.
The meeting is an insult. Park Seung-ho places the new proposal on the table.
"We're raising it to 120 million won." "That's generous, considering the state of the property."
"Generous?" I ask, my voice trembling. "This café is worth more than any amount in won."
"Sentimental values don't pay taxes, Ji-eun-ssi."
"Then pay with history.
With memory.
With the fact that my grandmother saved dozens of people here—human and non-human."
He sighs, as if I were a stubborn child.
"Listen. If you don't sell… we'll file for eviction. And you'll receive less. Much less.
And you'll still have legal costs."
"You're using the law to steal."
"We're using the law to develop the city." He leans in.
"Your café is in an urban revitalization corridor. You're delaying the future."
I stand up.
"The future isn't made of buildings. It's made of places where people feel at home. And this…
is the only one I have."
He stands up.
"Think carefully. The next offer… will be the last."
He leaves.
He doesn't look me in the eye.
I return to the counter.
Dok-hee is outside, leaning against the wall, looking at the sky.
"Was it difficult?" he asks, without turning around. "It was unfair." "Humans always are." He turns around. "But spirits… sometimes have a code of honor."
"And you?"
"I play to the end." He looks at me. "And you?"
"I don't sell."
He nods.
"Then get ready. The next move… won't be with words."
He enters the café.
He picks up his cup.
It's still hot.
He drinks the rest.
He leaves the coin on the table.
And leaves.
But this time, he leaves something more:
The black stone from the game. Next to the cup. Like an oath.
—
In the Jinyang office, later…
Park Seung-ho reports to the board.
"He refused. With emotional stubbornness. He said the place 'has a soul.'"
An older man with white hair looks out the window.
"Souls are for poets. We build skyscrapers."
"What do we do?" asks another.
The older man smiles.
"Our legal attempts failed. Kindness was useless."
He closes the folder.
"Then activate the Shadow Plan. Disrupt the supplies. Sabotage the systems. Make the place seem… cursed."
"And if the neighbors complain?"
"Let them complain. Scaring is cheaper than buying."
Silence.
"And if she resists?"
The old man looks at the city.
"Then we break her. Like you break anything:
with time…
and pressure."
In the café, the bell rings.
But it's not a customer.
It's the wind.
And in the covered window, the shadow of a figure passes.
Tall.
Silent.
Watching.
The game has changed.
Now it's no longer about territory.
It's about survival.