The quiet, fragile bubble of our conversation was shattered by the sharp, jarring vibration of a phone.
Sana startled, her hand diving into the pocket of the oversized coat I had draped over her. She pulled out her device, the screen illuminating her face with a harsh blue glow that highlighted the faint traces of dried tears on her cheeks.
"Oh!" she gasped, her eyes widening as she checked the time. "It's Sanvi. I... I completely lost track of everything."
She swiped the screen, her voice shifting into a hurried, reassuring tone. "Yes, Sanvei? No, no, I'm fine. I'm at the tower... Yes, I gave him the gift. I'm coming back right now. I'll hail a taxi. Don't worry, I'm leaving this second. Okay. Bye."
She stood up abruptly, the heavy fabric of my coat rustling. She began to slide it off her shoulders to return it to me, but the biting wind immediately made her flinch.
"Keep it," I said, my voice coming out in that low, gravelly 'Woonbae' pitch. "It is too cold for silk tonight. You can return it... another time."
Sana paused, looking down at the dark wool, then back at me. She offered a small, shy smile. "Thank you. For the coat, for the meeting, for... everything, Woonbae. Truly. Because of you, my dream didn't just come true—it became real. I'm so glad I met you."
She checked her phone again. "It's 10:00 PM. I really have to go back to the hotel. It's quite late for a tourist to be wandering alone."
She stepped forward and extended her hand, her bangles chiming a soft, melodic farewell. "It was so nice to meet you, Woonbae. Maybe in the future, if I ever come back to Korea, our paths will cross again."
"We speak of the future as if it is a guaranteed land, a place where we can finish the sentences we were too afraid to start today."
THE FEAR OF THE GHOST
Woonseok's Perspective
Maybe in the future.
The words felt like a death sentence. I looked at her outstretched hand, the small, warm palm that had held mine in the green room. If I let her walk away now, "Woonbae" would become a ghost. A nice memory of a helpful stranger she met on a mountain.
And in four days, she would board a plane to India, and I would be back on a stage, looking at ten thousand faces, searching for the one pair of mahogany eyes I knew I would never see again.
"Wait," I said, the word escaping my lips before I could think.
Sana stopped, her hand still hovering in the air.
"When will you come back?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I was sure she could hear it. "To Korea. When is the next time?"
Sana let out a small, breathless laugh, looking out at the glittering lights of Seoul one last time. "I don't know, Woonbae. Korea is a very expensive dream for a girl from India. I had to save my earnings for a long time to afford this trip. Maybe in two years... maybe three? It depends on my work and my family."
Two or three years. I couldn't wait three days to see her again, let alone three years. The thought of her living an entire life—fighting criminals, being an officer, perhaps even meeting someone else—while I remained a frozen image on her bedroom poster was unbearable.
I took a step toward her, closing the gap until the wind was the only thing between us.
"Until you are here," I began, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest, "while you are still in this city... can we meet tomorrow? At 8:00 PM? Here, at the same place?"
Sana blinked, her expression shifting from gratitude to genuine confusion. She tilted her head, her dark hair catching on the collar of my coat.
"Tomorrow?" she repeated, her voice laced with a hint of hesitation. "Again? I mean... I would love to, but why? You've already done so much for me. I don't want to be a burden on your time."
"You are not a burden," I said, perhaps a little too quickly, a little too intensely. I caught myself and slowed down. "I... I realised I didn't get to hear the rest of your story. You told the 'Idol' about your inspiration. But I want to hear about the girl. I want to know more about India. About why you dance when no one is watching."
Sana stood perfectly still, searching my eyes through the narrow gap between my cap and my mask. I held her gaze, praying she wouldn't see the "Woonseok" hiding behind the "Woonbae."
A slow, tentative smile began to spread across her face.
"You're very strange, Woonbae," she whispered, a light of curiosity dancing in her eyes. "But... okay. I'll come. 8:00 PM. Same place."
"When a star asks a girl to tell her story, even the moon stops to listen, knowing that some secrets are too beautiful to be kept in the dark."
"Promise?" I asked, extending my pinky finger—a childish, universal gesture that felt right in the middle of this impossible situation.
Sana laughed, the sound bright and clear, and hooked her small pinky around mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity through my entire body.
"I promise," she said. "Now, I really have to go before Sanvi calls the local police on me."
I watched her walk toward the elevator, the oversized black coat swamping her frame, the peacock-silk of her saree peeking out from underneath. She looked like a beautiful contradiction—a warrior in a star's clothing.
As the elevator doors slid shut and she disappeared from view, I pulled my mask down, taking a deep, gasping breath of the freezing air.
I had twenty-four hours to prepare. Twenty-four hours to decide how much of the truth I could tell her.
I looked down at the small paper bag she had given me. I pulled out the silver star pendant, the metal cold against my palm. I looked up at the real stars, feeling a strange, terrifying sense of hope.
"Woonbae," I whispered to the wind, testing the name. "Let's see if Woonbae can do what Woonseok never could."