In between shifts,Doyoon studied.
He opened textbooks for industrial safety certificationand worked past dawn.
When his eyes closed,he drank coffee.
When coffee stopped working,he washed his face with cold water.
He passed the examand earned his industrial safety license.
Before he realized it,he was working as a safety manager at a construction company.
When the site supervisor asked,
"You used to direct shows—why are you here?"
Doyoon smiled and said,
"So no one gets hurt."
On-site,noise spoke louder than words.
Steel bars colliding.Crane alarms.Shouted curses.
Inside that chaos,
Doyoon watched movement first.He saw danger before it happened.
That day,
he noticed a man standing in front of the blueprints.
Park Haeyoon.
A man of few words.
He looked longer at lines and measurementsthan at people.
Even when spoken to,his eyes never left the drawings.
"Here," Doyoon said.
"With this structure,there'll be an accident during night work."
Haeyoon looked up.
"Why?"
"There's no spacefor people to step aside."
Haeyoon was silent.
He looked back at the blueprint.
Then—
he erased a single line.
"You're right."
For the first time,he looked directly at Doyoon.
After that day,
they crossed paths often at the site.
Doyoon spoke in terms of human movement.
Haeyoon answered with structure.
One evening,Haeyoon said,
"Would you like to see my place?"
At the edge of the industrial complex,late after work,
Haeyoon opened the door of his truck.
Insidewas a container.
"Three pyeong," he said."About 100 square feet."
"A house?"
"Yes.A livable one."
It was small—
but the space was astonishingly precise.
A bed.A desk.Storage.Ventilation.
Human movementnever overlapped once.
"Why a truck?"Doyoon asked.
Haeyoon thought for a moment.
"Because there's no land."
"…What?"
"For people who need housing,landalways comes last."
Doyoon couldn't respond.
Haeyoon continued.
"Fixed thingstrap people."
At that moment,
Doyoon's notebook openedinside his head.
Medical care.Housing.Food.Safety.
Each function.Each truck.
"The cityhas to move,"Doyoon said.
Haeyoon smiled—for the first time.
"I think so too."
After that day,Doyoon's notes changed.
He began placing a cityon top of trucks.
A city that goes firstto where people are pushed out.
When the end of the pandemicbegan to come into view,
the notebook was no longer just notes.
It was a proposal.
Blueprints.Budgets.Risks.Even failure scenarios.
On the final page,Doyoon wrote:
There are no abandoned cities.Only abandoned people.
He closed the document slowly.
Then,
holding the proposal,
Doyoon stepped out—
toward somewherethe city had never gone before.