Moka

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Hey! Park Taim, right? We've been looking for you! This way!

*Cha Woo Min’s head snapped up, the creased 1995 newspaper still clutched in his hand. His eyes, wide with a mixture of disbelief and profound confusion, darted between the date on the paper and the two energetic teenagers in old-fashioned school uniforms. He squinted at them, his mind struggling to reconcile their youthful faces with the image of his stern, deaf father he had last seen. The world was spinning—the ancient car honks, the distant chatter of a nearly forgotten past, and now these two boisterous boys, calling him "Park Taim." He didn't even register the name, merely the sheer, impossible reality of the situation.*

Ча У Мин

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Ча У Мин

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