Gyeongsu remembered it clearly.

  It was an afternoon, exactly one week after he opened his fortune-telling shop.

  The door eased open, just a crack.A woman in her mid-forties stepped inside.

  She gave a brief nod, her face unreadable,then slowly scanned the room with guarded eyes.Without another word, she sat downand quietly recited her date of birth.

  “I don’t know the exact time I was born,” she said.“Just… tell me what you see.”

  Her voice was calm.Too calm.Like a wall—solid, unmoving.

  Gyeongsu studied her for a moment before opening his notebook.

  People came here for the same reason every time.No one showed up because life was going well.They came because something had gone wrong—because their lives had knotted themselves too tightly.

  He knew that feeling better than anyone.

  In his mind, the patterns of the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches began to turn.Slowly. Quietly.He traced the meanings hidden in each symbol.

  Most cases came down to one thing: fortune.

  Family fortune.Marriage fortune.Children.

  From experience, he knew touching even one of thosewas usually enough to start a conversation.

  “How did you find this place?” he asked.“Did someone recommend me?”

  She didn’t answer.

  She sat there, expression unchanged—not like someone being questioned,but like someone waiting for his answer.

  After a moment, Gyeongsu spoke again.

  “Looking at your chart,” he said carefully,“I see tension in the area tied to your upbringing and parents.And the part related to your marriage—it doesn’t suggest an easy path.”

  He paused.

  “My sense is that you came here because of your husband.Am I wrong?

  And since your birth time isn’t clear,I can’t speak with certainty about matters involving your children.”

  Normally, this was where people started talking.Slowly. Hesitantly.

  She didn’t.

  She stared down at her lap, unmoving.

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  A full minute passed.

  Then she stood.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “About twenty-five dollars.”

  She pulled out three crumpled bills and set them neatly on the desk.

  “Thank you.”

  She bowed her head once and left.

  Gyeongsu stayed seated, staring at the doorwayuntil even the sound of it closing was gone.

  What was that?Did I say something wrong?Was I off?

  He kept looking at her chart long after she was gone.The symbols on the paper felt like they were laughing at him.

  Right…Can I really support my family doing this?

  He exhaled slowly.

  At this rate, lasting a year—even a month—felt uncertain.

  He turned his own words over in his head,sinking into a hollow feeling he couldn’t explain.

  A month later, she came back.

  “I was here about a month ago,” she said.“You remember me, right?”

  “Of course,” Gyeongsu said.“You left without saying anything.It stuck with me.”

  She smiled faintly.

  “Things were complicated back then.Listening to you…I thought I’d start crying if I stayed.So I left.”

  That day, he learned a few things.

  She’d been reading his blog for years.She’d heard he was opening a shopand had gone back and forth for a long timebefore finally coming.

  “I’ll give you my husband’s birthday,” she said.“This time… please look at his chart too.”

  Gyeongsu unfolded the chart and read it carefully.

  Suspicion.Stubborn pride.Words sharpened into weapons.

  He reached his conclusion without saying it aloud.

  This wasn’t an easy bond.One that could last only by hurting each other.

  “…This is difficult,” he said.“I don’t know what brought you together,but you’ve been carrying a lot of pain.”

  She lowered her head.

  “I just…”Her voice shook.“I want this life to end.It feels like I’m living in hell.”

  Her fingers trembled.

  Gyeongsu watched her, then took a slow breath.

  “Life isn’t that simple,” he said.“It’s not decided by a single thought likeI want to die.”

  He paused.

  “Everyone is born with different bonds.Some open paths.Some close them.

  That’s how life works.”

  Silence fell again.

  “I know how heavy things feel right now.I really do.

  But we aren’t all born for the same reason.We carry different causes, different meanings,and live lives shaped by them.

  Life is tangled. Complicated.You can’t sum it up in a single sentence.

  So don’t believe this pain is everything.

  Stay a little longer.Life will show you—why you’ve made it this far,why you’re still here,and what that reason is.”

  By the time he finished,thirty minutes had slipped by unnoticed.

  She stood, placed three crumpled bills on the table.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.“This is all I ever have.”

  She left.

  Gyeongsu watched through the doorwayuntil her footsteps vanished into the alley’s darkness.

  Over the next six months, she returned four more times.Each visit, her expression grew lighter.

  Gyeongsu spoke without rushing.About life. About time.

  “You’re close to a turning point now,” he told her once.“The darker the night,the closer the dawn.

  Give it a little more time.Things will change.”

  That was enough to hold her together.

  Then she stopped coming.

  Today, the door opened again.

  She stepped inside—this time with a young man beside her.

  Her face carried a quiet light,nothing like the woman who had first walked in.