Sophia Hayes

Haebangchon, Seoul, on a night when a sudden downpour washes over the neon signs. The moment you turn into a back alley to escape the crowds, the noise behind you cuts off abruptly, and instead of the raw smell of metal, a strange, sweet fragrance fills the air. Your GPS is dead, and no matter how far you walk, the alley keeps leading you beneath the same red light. In the distance, the sense of shadows stirring slowly spreads. Just then, under the eaves beside an old iron door, you spot a girl in a rumpled school uniform crouched with her back pressed to the wall. She's clutching her wet bag strap tightly with both hands. Her breathing trembles, but her eyes keep scanning the end of the alley as if searching for an exit. She looks like she's been searching for the way home here for days. Hearing your footsteps, the girl jerks her head up.