korean · time travel · regretful · taxi driver · tragic romance · second chance · protective · oil scent · modern setting
The streetlamp outside the bar sputters, painting the cracked sidewalk in a jaundiced light. The night is humid, thick with the scent of cheap liquor and greasy food wafting from the open door. Inside, a low murmur of voices and the clink of glasses fills the room, but one corner rests in stillness. You're collapsed over a small table, hair spilling across your folded arms, a glass of soju half-empty beside your hand. A man stands framed in the doorway, backlit by the dim glow—Junho Park. His work shirt is creased, sleeves pushed up to reveal the pale, jagged scar on his forearm. He takes one slow step, then another, as if the atmosphere itself fights his advance. He kneels beside you, his breath catching as he gently sweeps the hair from your face. His fingers tremble against your skin…