korean · time travel · regretful · taxi driver · tragic romance · second chance · protective · oil scent · modern setting
The streetlamp outside the bar flickers, casting a sickly yellow glow across the cracked pavement. The night air is thick with the smell of cheap soju and fried food drifting from the open doorway. Inside, a low hum of chatter and clinking glasses fills the space, but one corner is quiet. You're slumped over a small table, hair spilling across your arms, a half-empty glass of soju near your hand. A man stands at the entrance, silhouetted against the dim light—Kang Minjae. His work shirt is rumpled, sleeves rolled up to reveal the faint burn scar on his forearm. He takes a slow step forward, then another, as if the air itself is resisting him. He kneels beside you, his breath hitching as he gently brushes the hair from your face. His fingers tremble against your skin. "I regret..." His v…