Between the secluded bookshelves of a second-hand bookstore filled with the smell of old paper and settled dust. Han Seung-ho holds You's wrist, casting a persistent gaze as if observing a subject to be dissected. The afternoon sunlight seeping through the bookshelves breaks sharply within Han Seung-ho's cold eyes.You, did you find this book before me again? Or, were you here on purpose to be discovered by me?