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"I'll be your summer sun...forever"

Name: Han Yeoreum

Love Language: Acts of Service, Words of Affirmation (giving and receiving)

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Name: Nam Seojun

DOB: June 15, 1997 (28)

Nicknames: Jun

Zodiac: Gemini

Current Occupation: Tour guide and owner of Salt & Sun Adventures

Education: Dalian Polytechnic University (Bachelors in Business Administration)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Han Yeoreum

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Father: Nam Seongmo

The Nam family patriarch, first owner of Salt and Sun Adventures, hailed from Jeju, South Korea. After he and his wife managed to clear a massive shark loan debt, they relocated to Dalian, China only to find themselves repeating the same mistakes years later. The burden of keeping the business afloat eventually fell to Seojun when his father went on a "business trip" to Shanghai only to never come back.

Mother: Nam Iseul

A kind-hearted woman who runs a small, word-of-mouth banchan delivery service for both Koreans and non-Koreans in Willith Beach, doing her part to help Seojun keep the family afloat. Though her earnings are modest and insufficient to support all three of them, Seojun shoulders the rest by working at Salt and Sun Adventures.

Nam Seoha (10 yrs old)

Seojun’s pride and joy, Seoha is a bright little girl, too clever for her own good. Seojun likes to joke that it runs in their blood. She’s also the secret behind many of the generous tips from tourists who choose Salt and Sun Adventures, whether out of genuine admiration for her or out of “pity” for Seojun. Either way, he’s grateful for the support.

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MBTI: ENFP (the campaigner)

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good

Enneagram type: 1, 2 and 7

Likes: ice cream or anything refreshing during hot summer days, Summer, Small towns, the smell of a fresh wad of cash, Family outings, Cooking [Fresh seafood – grilled fish, oysters, ceviche] , Talking about Willith beach, Nature and hiking, Water sports [surfing, paddleboarding, sailing (even if just watching).], retro music and vinyls, photography [he had dreams of traveling the world early on in his life.]

Dislikes: Joseph Kim, Winter, Change, Being told what to do without him thinking it first, Big cities and ambitious dreams, Storm surges [unpredictable weather disrupting daily life.] , Salt corrosion [rusted tools, weathered cars, peeling paint.] , Getting sand in his bag, in his shoes..just the inconvenience of it all, anything mint chocolate chip.

Habits:

He starts his day before sunrise to prepare for tours and get ahead of the heat and crowds.

Before each tour, he double-checks gear, weather, and routes to make sure everything runs smoothly.

He tends to listen more than he speaks, carefully reading people and situations before reacting.

Seojun finds comfort in daily routines. The same morning coffee, same route to the office. Because predictability helps steady him.

He often checks in on his mother and Seoha throughout the day, even if just with a quick text or phone call.

Though passionate, he usually tries to keep peace and avoid arguments, except when standing up for what matters most.

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Hair is short. Often neatly gelled and styled when working but is tousled and wavy during off days

Lean muscular mesomorph, 6'1 in stature with a straight posture and a confident gait.

Dark brown eyes.

Notable scars/birth marks:

no notable scars at present

one mole under his left cheek, one on his right palm

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Seojun, a serial thrifter has an easy wardrobe. If it fits, he'll wear it. But he stays away from anything colorful that makes him look like a tourist.

THINK:

Loose linen shirts : mostly in light colors (white, sandy beige, pale blue) but occasionally a loud tropical print because “why not.” Often left partially unbuttoned.

Breathable cotton tees with vintage tourist logos or faded beach graphics from random places they’ve never even been.

Chino shorts in sun-faded shades (olive, khaki, coral). Sometimes frayed at the edges from years of wear.

Flip-flops or worn leather sandals. He has a “good” pair for the office and a battered pair for beach walks.

Canvas slip-ons or espadrilles for when he needs to look slightly more put-together for clients.

Signature scents: Maison Margiela – Replica Sailing Day

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↳ “A single father at his age? How reckless. He can barely take care of his own mother.”

“He looks far too young to have a child, don’t you think? But look at that girl, she’s the spitting image of him. You can’t deny it.”

Rumors in Willith’s beach town had a way of clinging to the air like salt spray on a humid day, sticky, persistent, and impossible to wash off. They slipped from one pair of lips to another, curling through the market stalls and over the boardwalk until they reached every corner of the coast. To

Seojun, they were no different from the irritating grains of sand that always managed to worm their way into his slippers no matter how carefully he shook them out.

He had hated them at first, those careless whispers that twisted his life into a story he had never told.

Seojun was born to immigrant parents who had traded the familiar shores of a small town in Jeju for the uncertain promise of Dalian, China. His parents had arrived with little more than worn suitcases and the relief of having finally paid off the crushing debt that had shadowed them for years. Through grit and long hours, they built a modest livelihood, a small tourist and adventure agency that specialized in guiding the few travelers who strayed from crowded resorts to the quiet beauty of Willith’s beach.

Seojun grew up in the rhythm of that work, early mornings loading boats, afternoons arranging gear, evenings counting crumpled bills by the kitchen table. Predictability had been the anchor of his life, the same way it had been for his parents. But patterns, good or bad, run deep in blood.

His father, Nam Seongmo, who once swore he had reformed after a near-death encounter with loan sharks in Korea, found himself slipping back into old habits. Gambling debts began to pile up again, creeping in like a tide no one noticed until it was too late.

The last time Seojun saw him, he had been eighteen. His father’s face was drawn tight with something between shame and desperation.

“Take care of your mother and Seoha,” he had said, voice low, eyes darting anywhere but at Seojun. “I’ll be back in a month… I just… I just need to figure things out.”

That month never came.

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The bitter reality of his father’s irresponsibility hit Seojun harder than any wave on Willith’s shore. Nam Seongmo had run from the responsibility of pulling their family out of debt, leaving those burdens squarely on Seojun’s shoulders before disappearing altogether. It was a betrayal that forced him, while still young, to abandon whatever ambitions he might have had for himself, if he had ever allowed himself the luxury of dreaming at all.

When the time came to choose his future, circumstances made the choice for him. He enrolled at the local university, tearing up acceptance letters from several prestigious schools in both Korea and China. Each letter was a reminder of what could have been, and each one he destroyed was an acknowledgment that he would never have the means to chase those paths. Education and dreams became luxuries, and he had no room for luxuries.

Yet the same quiet optimism that had kept his mother steadfast through years of hardship refused to let him sink into bitterness. Somewhere within him, that optimism urged him to pivot, to search for some glimmer of a silver lining in the wreckage of their lives. Over time, he taught himself, at least in part, to love Willith Beach. He found comfort in the steady rhythms of the coast, in the patterns and habits that gave shape to his days, in the predictability of Dalian’s seasons and tides.

Here, he told himself, he had all he truly needed. A stable job, his mother, and Seoha.

It was not long before he took over the family business, Salt and Sun Adventures. What had once been a modest tourist agency became his pride, and Seojun grew into something of a local “legend.” Tourists came to know him as the man who could lead them through the most secluded stretches of Willith’s coastline, revealing hidden coves and untouched trails as if they were secrets he had been saving just for them.

Over time, he became the most sought-after guide in the area, his name as familiar to the beach as the sound of the waves.

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1/4 threads available:

Lee Bona― Salt and Sun adventures (replied)

Eun Harin― plotting

Han Yeoreum― Yeoreum's residence (replied)

completed:

Han Yeoreum― Social, Contacts

Han Yeoreum― Town Square

Han Yeoreum― Beach

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Though nothing ever lasts forever for Nam Seojun. At first, it was only whispers...quiet rumors of a powerful developer with grand plans to transform Willith into something new and unfamiliar. A change that promised progress and profit but threatened to destroy every small business that had called the beach town home for generations, including Salt and Sun Adventures.

Despite the danger, many locals signed the papers without hesitation. They seemed willing to trade their livelihoods, their history, and the soul of their community for the promise of prosperity and a brighter future. It was a future Seojun could not imagine or accept. Change like that felt like erasure.

Refusing to stand by and watch, Seojun rose in protest. His voice joined the few others who shared his fear and determination. Together they stood as the last line of defense against the sweeping tide of gentrification that threatened to wash away the Willith they loved.

He faces a losing battle with the deadline looming ahead. And change, no matter how hard he fights against it is now inevitable.

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I am not my character, please separate ic and ooc. 

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I am not my character, please separate ic and ooc. 

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hello! you can call me chevalier/knight or any of my characters' names

My timezone is gmt-6 but I have a really bad sleep schedule nowadays so I'm mostly online whenever I can.

Writing style and length: 3rd pov only. Para to novella, please don't be pressured to mirror but also please no one liner replies. My replies could get lengthy especially in settings that require me to describe a scene (purple prose) but do let me know if it ever becomes too much! I'd be happy to adjust to a length that suits both of us. I'm not too fond of "going with the flow" in terms of threading.

At least have an idea if you're the one approaching me to plot because I will have ideas if I'm the one approaching you. With that said, don't expect me to carry the plotting on my own. Even if it's my idea and I see that you're not reciprocating, I'll drop the plotting altogether. No hard feelings!

If the thread is unreplied for a month without prior communication then I will drop it out of respect for the both of us.

I prefer plotting over winging a storyline so we have a clear understanding of what we both want out of a connection.

Do not force a narrative that we both did not agree on. I will be vocal if the thread derails from what we originally discussed. Please do not take offense. I expect you to do the same if you see me writing something that has not been discussed prior (this rarely happens, but I am human too and we all make mistakes.) I will, and have dropped threads simply because my characters have been godmodded.

If you mention my character in any form of writing, please give me a heads up first!

HARD NOs

any plots involving incest/familial relations.

detailed SA or multiple mentions of it during a thread without prior discussion.

vore

terminal illness and the extensive writing of it.

god modding

ooc drama

Genres I'm comfortable with:

angst

tense/antagonistic relations

romance (only plotted.)

smut (minors dni) (only when it helps drive the plot, I will not write pwp)

DON'T BLUR OOC AND IC LINES, THAT'S WEIRD. Lets have fun!

Even if a connection shows potential for an endgame, that doesn’t mean it's set in stone unless we have both agreed. Please avoid making assumptions without proper communication. I strongly believe that open and ongoing dialogue is essential, so I prefer in-depth discussions both before and during a thread.

Do let me know if you want to drop a thread. No hard feelings! A heads up is much appreciated <3

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𝙏𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚: That girl with the brightest smile

𝘿𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙘: Love of his life

summary: Constant. That was what Yeoreum had always been to Seojun, a presence so familiar it felt etched into the very fabric of his life since the moment he first opened his eyes to the world. She had been with him through every passing season, through the shifting of leaves and the turning of years. But what becomes of him when that constant, the anchor he had never dared imagine living without, chooses to uproot herself from Willith? How is he supposed to reconcile with the silence she will leave behind, the empty spaces where her laughter used to linger? And what of the feelings that have always lived quietly between them, unspoken and buried beneath years of denial?

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𝙏𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚: Elite Employee(?)

𝘿𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙘: Positive

summary: writing...

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── ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜰ

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── ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ, "ᴍᴜʟᴛᴏ" ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇꜱ. ɪᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ. ──

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✽ ᴍᴜʟᴛᴏ (ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ)

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✽ ᴍᴜʟᴛᴏ (ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ)

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In Nam Seojun’s eyes, the world brimmed with a beauty so rare it deserved to be etched into eternity. Where others looked and simply saw, he lingered, perceiving textures, rhythms, and symphonies hidden within the ordinary. To him, each wave that curled and collapsed upon the sands of Willith Beach was no mere motion of tide but an aria, a chorus of words waiting to be reshaped into poems that could move even the most stoic poets to tears.

The light itself seemed to conspire with him. At precisely four o’clock, when the sun leaned at just the right angle, its rays struck the crystalline waters, scattering into a thousand fractured hues. The sea transformed into a shifting canvas of blues, greens, and molten golds, kaleidoscopic colors dancing across its surface for the briefest, most fragile moments. To Seojun, it was both ethereal and heartbreaking, beauty that lived only in the span of a breath, ephemeral as morning dew.

He was only fourteen when the clarity of his desire took shape. He wanted to preserve the way he saw the world, to trap fleeting beauty before it dissolved into memory. For now, his universe was smaller, contained within the modest bounds of his family’s livelihood: Salt and Sun Adventures, a humble beachfront agency that offered tours of the coast, rented out a handful of jet skis, a few boats, and enough bicycles to entertain those who preferred to stay on land. His days were simple, divided between schoolwork, helping with the business, and quiet moments of staring out at the sea. Yet, behind his boyish smile and sunburned skin was a mind restless with dreams, dreams of travel, of creation, of someday capturing the grandeur of the world beyond his little town.

Not that he despised Willith Beach. Quite the opposite. His love for the place was woven into every grain of sand, every whisper of the tide. To him, the shoreline was not merely a backdrop to his childhood but the beating heart of his existence. The town with its weathered docks and salt-stained shops, the people with their laughter and stories, and the history that clung to its shores all formed a tapestry he could never unravel from himself. Even if life someday pulled him far away, Seojun knew with unwavering certainty that Willith Beach would remain his compass, his sanctuary. It would forever be the place that taught him how to see.

–

✽ [ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴏꜰ 2013 ]

“Happy sixteenth birthday, Seojun-ah!”

His mother’s voice carried the kind of warmth that could soften even the hardest day. She was a kind, hardworking woman who never failed to make sure her son came home to the comfort of a hot meal, her smile always carrying the quiet radiance of a love that expected nothing in return. That same smile was on her face now as she handed him a small box, wrapped clumsily in old newspapers. They were the same newspapers she often forgot to cancel their subscription to, the same stack Seojun had reminded her more than once to stop letting pile up.

Yet the moment the box touched his hands, the weight and shape of it sent his heart racing. He knew it too well.
He had dreamed of it too many times, imagined unwrapping it in moments of wishful thinking, and had already made peace with the fact that it was something their family could not afford. As the paper crinkled under his fingers, excitement and guilt collided inside him. Their mortgage was already heavy, school drained more than enough from their budget, and every coin mattered. Still, he had tried. He saved when he could, tucking away small earnings. His father occasionally pressed into his palm the crumpled bills left by rare, generous tourists, and Seojun found odd jobs around the neighborhood—hauling in nets for weary fishermen, running errands to Dalian for elderly neighbors who could no longer make the trip themselves.

All for one dream. All for one thing only.. A digital camera that was now in his grasp.

He looked at his mother, still smiling with quiet pride, and for a moment he did not know what to do first. Part of him wanted to ask, to demand even, where she found the money. The other part, the louder one, wanted to hold her tightly, to let her know that her sacrifice meant more than words could carry. His choice was simple. He set the camera gently beside the steaming bowl of seaweed soup she had cooked for him and pulled her into his arms, holding her with a fierceness that trembled.

“Thank you… thank you, Mom. You didn’t have to.”

His voice was shaky, choked with emotion, because Nam Seojun was a boy who felt deeply, who never hid the love that ruled his heart.

Seojun ate every spoonful of seaweed soup, savoring it as though it, too, were a gift. He washed the dishes, tidied the small house, and only then did he rush out into the open air, the new camera clutched to his chest. He wandered along the beach, through the cliffside where the sun spilled molten gold across the horizon, down to the shops where twilight painted everything in amber glow. He captured pastel shades of ice cream melting in small hands, the colors of laughter and defiance lingering despite the prohibition of a certain girl who had once scolded him for taking pictures in her grandfather’s ice cream shop.

That very same year, Seojun would put together his first portfolio. The photos were raw and imperfect, yet filled with a devotion that could not be taught. He called it My Dearest Willith—a love letter in images to the only world he had ever known, and the one that had taught him how to see beauty everywhere.

–

✽ [ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ 2015 ]

Countless letters found their way to Nam Seojun, each one carrying promises of a future he had only dared to dream about. A friend from school had urged him, again and again, to submit My Dearest Willith as part of his portfolio, hoping that someone might notice his talent. To Seojun’s astonishment, they did.

The responses came one after another, envelopes stamped with names that felt larger than life: Shanghai Film Academy, Tokyo University of the Arts, Korea National University of the Arts, even the New York Film Academy. Each letter brimmed with opportunity, offering scholarships that placed the world within his reach. For a brief moment, his future stretched out before him, dazzling and full of possibility.

But reality has a way of arriving uninvited. A crash from the kitchen pulled him from his dreams, and with it came the news that would change everything. His father, who had promised a trip to Shanghai to fix their financial troubles, was never coming back.

“He’s not coming back, Seojun-ah.”

His mother’s voice broke under the weight of her grief. For the first time, Seojun saw her slumped on the floor, inconsolable. The woman who had been the pillar of his childhood, the one who had held him through every storm, now leaned on him with shaking shoulders. At eighteen, Seojun learned the truth: his father had been gambling away their savings, leaving behind nothing but debt and shame. He had even come close to pawning off Salt and Sun Adventures, the family’s modest livelihood, just to pay the creditors who hounded him.

It fell to Seojun to pick up what was left.

He tucked the acceptance letters into a shoebox and placed them out of sight, his dreams sealed away with them. From that moment on, his life belonged not to himself but to his family. Each morning he rose before dawn to help his mother with the shop, scrubbing salt-streaked floors, repairing the old bikes, and making sure the boats were seaworthy before tourists arrived. He juggled the accounts, negotiated with suppliers, and quietly paid down the debts his father had left behind. What had once been his father’s responsibilities became his, and though he was young, he bore them without complaint.

In between the endless work, he carried Seoha in his arms. He learned how to calm her when she cried at night, how to distract her with silly faces, how to make her laugh. He learned to be her father when he wasn’t sure he could. He cooked simple meals when his mother was too exhausted, tidied the small house, and tried his best to keep the shadows of worry from showing on his face. His mother still smiled at him, but it was tired, and he knew she leaned on his strength more than she would ever admit aloud.

Customers at Salt and Sun Adventures often saw a bright, polite boy eager to help them, and they rarely guessed how much weight he carried behind that easy smile. They did not see him lingering at the counter after everyone had gone, carefully counting the day’s earnings and setting aside every possible coin to chip away at the debts that seemed endless. They did not see him looking out at the horizon at dusk, camera long since forgotten, wondering what his life might have been if he had boarded a plane to Tokyo or New York instead of staying behind.

Instead, he enrolled at Dalian Polytechnic University, pursuing a degree in business so he could apply that knowledge to Salt and Sun, still quietly determined not to be entirely left behind as the world pressed on.

At eighteen, Nam Seojun chose not the life he dreamed of but the life that was needed. He became the protector of his mother, of little Seoha and the keeper of Salt and Sun Adventures. What was once his father’s burden was now his own, and though the dreams of traveling the world had been folded into a shoebox and left to gather dust, sometimes he still thinks of what life would have looked like had he not been denied the choice to leave it all behind.

“Dearest Willith, I will never leave you.”
̶D̶e̶a̶r̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶W̶i̶l̶l̶i̶t̶h̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶ ̶n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶e̶s̶c̶a̶p̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶

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─ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀʟꜰ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ, ᴍɪꜱꜱᴘᴇʟʟᴇᴅ ʙɪɢ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴄʀɪʙʙʟᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴇᴅɢᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ᴘʀɪꜱᴛɪɴᴇ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ʙʏ ɴᴀᴍ ꜱᴇᴏʜᴀ, ᴀɢᴇ 10. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀ ᴇɴᴛʀʏ ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ɪꜱ ᴠᴏɪᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴇʀʀᴏʀꜱ. ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴇɴᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ɪꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ.

Dear Diary,

Seojun is off again today! That means adventure! Best day ever!

First we will get ice cream from Sweet Tooth. Because where else can we get the best ice cream in Willith Beach!? ….But I heard Yeoreumie is selling it. Does that mean I won’t get to eat ice cream next summer? That's not fair….. Does that mean she’s leaving? But where is she going? Willith is home. Who else is going to take care of her? Seojun said she can’t cook. So how will she survi– ..survive out there? But I don’t want her to leave….

─

“Nam Seoha, if you’re not ready by the time I get downstairs, we’re skipping ice cream and heading straight to the beach.”

Seojun’s voice carried through the modest two-story house—a home his parents had managed to buy back when real estate was still within reach and the neighborhood hadn’t yet been carved into rows of new developments. Those days were fading, but this house, worn in all the right ways, was one of the few things Seojun would never part with.

At the sound of his voice, the little girl snapped her journal shut...A pink notebook covered in bows, with a sticky note permanently affixed to the front in big block letters: DO NOT READ. She slid it between the sleeves of Seojun’s treasured vinyl collection, then padded over to the front door where their matching Chuck Taylors waited.

She wrestled with her laces, tongue poking out in concentration, until frustration won out. With a small huff, she plopped onto the stool set aside for her, waiting for Seojun to appear.

When he finally came down, they exchanged matching smiles. Same outfit, same sneakers—ready to take on the day.

“I’ll have to teach you how to tie your shoes again,” he said patiently, crouching to loop the laces into neat, perfect bows before shoving his own feet into his sneakers with far less care

Seoha frowned as she watched but she took his hand anyway, her small fingers curling around Seojun’s.

“Ready for another adventure?” he asked, settling a baseball cap snugly on her head to shield her from the summer sun.

“Of course! Best day ever!” she declared.

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ꕀ ︵˖

ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ

✽ ── ᴀ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʏᴇᴏʀᴇᴜᴍ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴛʜ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜʀꜱᴜᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴇʀ ɪɴ ꜱᴇᴏᴜʟ, ꜱᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴋᴏʀᴇᴀ ──

✽ [ ᴄʜᴜꜱᴇᴏᴋ | ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 6, 2025 ]

[ text to: Yeoreumie <3 ]

─ hi baby, how’s Seoul treating you? I hope you have enough food to eat. Restaurants are closed today so you can’t order or eat out. Mom and especially Seoha misses you. Willith feels unbearable without you here.

( . . . )

( deleted: it hasn’t even been that long| )

─  I miss you so much, take care of yourself because I’m not there to take care of you.

─  Love you, always.

Seojun sends Yeoreum a picture of the humble spread the Nams prepared as they celebrated Chuseok at home. Then another photo follows, showing the side dishes she loves. Waking up after a summer spent making memories with her had been almost unbearable, especially in those early months when he was still learning how to live without seeing her.

Sweet Tooth had long been demolished and cleared from the beachfront. These days, the setting sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Salt & Sun, painting the place in gold. It was a view he used to love. Now, with the familiar ice cream shop gone and Yeoreum nowhere near, the beauty of Willith felt just a little more empty.

...

✽ [ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ | ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 25, 2025 ]

[ text to: Yeoreumie  <3 ]

─ Merry Christmas! I got your text that you’re unable to come home for the Holidays.

( . . . )

─ Sorry I’m just replying now. It got unexpectedly busy!?!

─ Something about investors pouring in wanting to see the place for themselves despite it being off season.

( deleted: Seoha really looked forward to spending Christmas with you| )

( deleted: Maybe you just didn’t want to come back anymo| )

─ Stay warm. Heard winters are harsh in Seoul.

─ Always wear the scarf I sent you!

─ Call me tonight, please?

─ Love you, always.

Mornings are a little colder. The off-season has been unexpectedly busy, but Seojun still tries to hold on to the little traditions he and Yeoreum used to share with Seoha.

This year, he brings Seoha alone to Dalian to teach her how to ice skate, keeping the promise he and Yeoreum had made last year. They video call the entire time. Yeoreum’s explanation for not making it back home had been something about overlapping schedules.

It is a new configuration. He is still learning how to exist alone, to pour all his affections into a phone instead of the tangible presence of the woman he grew up with. He never realized until now how much one could miss someone. Yet he does, and he is beginning to wonder if she does too.

Seoha learns to skate, despite hours of instruction. When Christmas rolls around, both she and Seojun fall ill with the flu, their mother vehemently blamed Seojun for not coming home sooner. The brother-sister duo only laugh at their new inside joke. Seojun glances at the space where Yeoreum would have been and wonders if, had she been there, they would all have gotten sick together, or if she would have been the voice of reason for once. He accepts that he will never know.

...

✽ [ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇꜱ | ꜰᴇʙʀᴜᴀʀʏ 14, 2026 ]

[ text to: Yeoreumie  <3 ]

─ Happy Valentines baby!

─ I miss you so much.

─ I know we just got off face time.

( . . . )

( . . . )

─ How’s work? I saw your ad omg

─ You look so good. I’m so proud of you!

─ Our Yeoreumie, you’re getting closer to a role.. I can feel it!

( . . . )

( deleted: You won’t forget me right| )

( deleted: Do you think I’m holding you back| )

─ I hope you like the flowers!

─ Love you, always.

Seojun trades visiting Yeoreum for

Valentine’s Day to plan a trip during spring instead. Something about viewing cherry blossoms together as a couple, Yeoreum had said during a brief FaceTime. She is getting busier by the day, and Seojun finds himself increasingly restless, constantly checking his phone for messages that sometimes never reach him. Growing pains of a long-distance relationship, he tells himself. But sometimes he doesn’t believe it anymore. Sometimes he blames himself for moving a little too late, for remaining stuck in a place where he could no longer grow, for still feeling a pang of envy hidden beneath the pride he carries for Yeoreum as she bravely pursues her dream so many miles away.

He begins taking pictures, then small video clips, of Willith before construction erases all of its natural beauty, filling his quiet afternoons with a return to passions he had neglected. He doesn’t text Yeoreum first when she doesn’t reach out, understanding how hard it is to be a newcomer in the industry and how much of herself she sacrifices. Yet not a single text from her goes unnoticed for more than a minute.

This year, he sends her two dozen roses and a handwritten letter, detailing how proud he is of how far she has come. Along with the letter are developed photos of his new hobby and a note that reads– “You think it’s too late to send portfolios to schools again?”

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...

✽ [ ᴊᴏɪɴᴛ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏꜱ | ᴊᴜɴᴇ 16, 2026 ]

[ text to: Yeoreumie  <3 ]

─ Happy birthday to us!

─ Guess no two-flavor cakes this year.

( . . . )

( . . . )

─ I miss you so bad, Yeoreum.

─ One measly week last season wasn’t enough.

─ You’re probably laughing at how whiny I sound rn.

─ But this is our first birthday we don’t get to spend together.

( deleted: You seemed really happy last time I visited you| )

( deleted: Can’t help but think that you’re better off| )

─ Eat a cake for me and send a picture!

─ Love you, always.

With Yeoreum’s encouragement, Seojun begins sending his new portfolio to the same schools he had applied to before. He does not expect any responses. All the while, the season turns again—the beginning of summer in Willith. This year it is busier than before. Unexpectedly, Salt & Sun continues to thrive despite everything happening around it.

One day, an investor approaches Seojun, offering to buy Salt & Sun for triple the price Joseph Kim had offered. The terms are simple. The business would not be demolished but expanded, and Seojun would receive a small percentage of the yearly profits once ownership is transferred. A silver lining. Every night before bed, Seojun stares at the proposal, keeping it to himself. He does not share it with Yeoreum or anyone else.

Accepting it would mean comfort for his mother and Seoha and the chance to finally pursue his own dream. He could leave Willith too.

But his first thought is not to follow Yeoreum to Seoul. Seoul is her dream. Seojun’s dream has always been New York. He realizes this decision will put more miles between them. Yeoreum still texts him amid her steadily growing schedule, and Seojun sometimes does not respond for days, creating even more distance between them.

...

✽ [ ᴄʜᴜꜱᴇᴏᴋ | ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 26, 2026 ]

The texts became fewer and farther between. Video calls grew even rarer.

Slowly, he begins receiving responses about his portfolios. The first round brings rejection after rejection from the Asian universities, exactly as he expected. The disappointment does not sting the same way it once did all those years ago.

Finally, he tells his mother about his hopes and dreams, everything he sacrificed to become the steady pillar she could lean on. They cry together, holding each other as though their hearts might break from the weight of years spent sharing the burden. She tells him how proud she is and how sorry she feels that he had to give up so much.

Then, with trembling hands worn by age, she hands him the next set of letters. Acceptances from the schools he had long dreamed of. An acceptance to Columbia University’s School of the Arts, full ride scholarship and boarding included. It should feel like victory, like freedom. But all it brings him now is the knowledge of what he will be leaving behind, the home that has shaped him, and the girl who is no longer within reach.

His mother fully supports his decision to sell Salt & Sun for good, agreeing that the terms are too good to pass up. Still, the approval feels hollow, a reminder that sometimes the right choice is also the loneliest one.

Seojun does not tell Yeoreum. Her messages pile up on his phone, unanswered, as he struggles with the thought of seeing her. He wants her to hear it from him, wants her to be happy for him. But beneath that hope lies a gnawing fear…that this is another cruel step toward the inevitable distance that will stretch between them. Willith to Seoul had already been unbearable, and now they would face New York to Seoul.

Nam Seojun is not sure he can ask Yeoreum to endure that. He is not sure he can endure it himself. And so he carries his news alone, a quiet weight that grows heavier with every passing day.

...

✽ [ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ | ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 25, 2026 ]

Christmas rolls around, and this time he doesn’t tell Yeoreum he’s coming. He carries with him his acceptance letter and the proof of the Salt & Sun sale, two stories he should have shared the moment he made the decisions. Seoul is colder, harsher than Willith, and all Seojun wants is to run to her.

But when he reaches her apartment, the crosswalk holds him back. He cannot run to her at full speed. Instead, he watches from afar, quietly taking in the sight of her joy. Her face lights up at the sight of her new group of friends, radiant in a way that makes him ache. She belongs here. She has become every bit the Seoul native she was always meant to be. Gone is the frustrated girl who once minimized herself to fit a Willith-shaped mold.

Han Yeoreum glows so fiercely he can feel her warmth even from where he stands.

A bittersweet realization settles over Seojun. He doesn’t have to decide for both of them. Seeing her like this, thriving, is enough for him to let go, not because he doesn’t trust them to endure the distance from New York to Seoul, but because he knows she is better off chasing her dreams without the weight of a boy who has finally found his own wings albeit too late.

That Christmas, Seojun leaves Seoul without telling Yeoreum he was there at all. Before stepping fully into a future now meant for himself, he sends one final text.

[ text to: Yeoreumie <3 ]

─ I love you, always.

He does not receive a text back and although it pains him, he understands. Distance, circumstances and dreams.. these are things they never thought would come between a connection that had bloomed a little too late.

...

✽ [ ᴍᴀʏ 15, 2027 ]

Seojun had arrived in New York two months ago, hoping to settle into the rhythm of a city that felt far removed from the quiet familiarity of Dalian. His English was decent, but conversations often slipped past him when people spoke too quickly, their words blending together like a fast-moving current he was still learning to swim through. Still, he managed. His dormitory was small but warm, shared with another Korean student from a small town in Jeju, someone who understood the strangeness of being far from home. Their friendship formed easily, built on shared meals, late-night talks, and the quiet comfort of knowing they weren’t alone in this sprawling, foreign place.

The city itself was a maze of noise and motion. Endless roads, alleyways that led nowhere, and a tangled metro system that seemed to exist in layers. Seojun found himself lost more often than not, but there was something strangely freeing about it too. As he studied new routes, memorized station names, and walked streets filled with faces he didn’t know, he couldn’t help but wonder if this feeling in his chest…the mix of anticipation, excitement, and aching homesickness was what Yeoreum had felt when she first moved to Seoul.

He had no way of knowing now. Their correspondence had stopped. There had been no formal goodbye, no harsh words exchanged, just silence. After Christmas, it was as if they had quietly agreed to stop reaching out, to let time and distance dissolve what they couldn’t bring themselves to end outright. And yet, he couldn’t delete her number from his phone. Couldn’t deactivate @through.his.eyes. Couldn’t erase her from his world, no matter how much he tried.

Seojun knew he would meet new people, just as she had. That life would continue pulling them both forward into places they had once dreamed about together.

But even as he told himself that, Seojun knew he would always miss the summers in Dalian—the warmth of the sun against his skin, the laughter that filled the salt air, and the girl whose name still lingered like a season that refused to end. His last summer. His Yeoreum.

# data[].attributes.headline
𝙄𝙣 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩  ꕀ ︵‿୨

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𝙄𝙣 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩  ꕀ ︵‿୨

# data[].attributes.body
So there’s a deadline now, huh?

Is this really it? Are we just supposed to swallow the sudden upheaval, as if our lives....our routines, our memories, the very character of this town mean nothing? Willith has always stood apart, untouched, a place that somehow resisted the relentless march of change.

And yet, of all the places Joseph Kim could have set his sights on, it had to be Willith Beach. Of all the places in the world.

I still have fight left in me. Me, and a handful of others...The small businesses who refuse to let this place go without a fight. Because the moment construction starts, every single thing that made Willith Beach unique, everything that gave it life, will vanish. So many of us will be pushed aside, our livelihoods erased.

And not everyone dreams of chasing a fortune on the mainland; not everyone wants a life in the hustle of some distant city.

But for Mom and for Seoha, I have to try. I have to stand my ground, even when it feels impossible. And if it turns out that moving away is the only way to provide for them, then… eventually, I’ll have no choice but to relent. But not yet.

For now, I will fight. I will do whatever it takes, however I can, to make the voices of our community heard. If it means standing in protest every Sunday until the deadline passes, then that’s what I’ll do. I can’t give up. . .not when this place, these people, are all I’ve ever known. Not when the streets, the waves, the salt in the air are stitched into the fabric of who I am.

I’ll fight for Willith. For its soul. For the life it’s given me. And I’ll fight until they leave me no choice but to stop.

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𝙏𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚: Friend!

𝘿𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙘: Positive

summary: writing...

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      ── ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ɪɴꜱ

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── ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ɪɴꜱᴛᴀ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴢᴇʀᴏ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ──

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❝ one last summer. ❞

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❝ all the vivid colors of willith. ❞

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ꕀ ︵˖

── ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛʀʏ ɪꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴏɴ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘʟᴀɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ꜱʜᴇᴇᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ꜰᴏʟᴅᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ  ᴄᴀʀᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀɴᴅᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴏᴜꜱ. ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɢᴇ, ʜɪꜱ ᴜɴꜱᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴍ, ꜱᴘɪʟʟɪɴɢ Qᴜɪᴇᴛʟʏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɴᴏᴡ. ──

[ ᴀᴜɢᴜꜱᴛ 31ꜱᴛ, 2025 ]

Dear Diary,

To say I have few regrets in my twenty-eight years would be a lie. And it would feel wrong to lie here, in a temple of all places. So let me begin with the first. My failure to see my father’s shortcomings sooner. I trusted him too much. A son blinded by filial duty. I let his smile deceive me, and it deceived my mother too.

When he finally left, I did not even look for him. I was too busy carrying the weight he abandoned. Too busy providing for the family he left behind. And in doing so, I sacrificed far more than I ever should have. My youth. My dreams. My aspirations.

Growing up was no longer a choice. It became survival. At eighteen, I made decisions no one my age should ever have to make. I turned my back on the acceptance letters that once filled me with hope. I still keep them in a dusty shoebox in the corner of my room, and every time I open it I grieve. I mourn the version of myself I never allowed to exist. I regret the selfless boy who let go of his dreams.

Then there’s my most recent regret. The one I know will follow me for years. I’ll see it when I walk past the space where her shop once stood. I’ll  feel it when I glance at the house that no longer carries her presence.

I regret never telling Han Yeoreum how I felt. That I liked her. That I loved her. She was always there. A constant. An irritating presence I thought would never leave Willith. Just as I never could. I never pictured her absence. I never imagined a world without her laughter filling it.

But I am not a selfish man. Perhaps that is my greatest strength. Perhaps it is my greatest flaw. So I will let her go. I will let her run toward the dream she has always wanted. And I will stay here in Willith. An anchor. A home she can return to when the brilliance of the city fades.

Until then, I will treasure what little time remains. Until then, I will hold her as if it were the last time. And I will hope that somehow, through the changing seasons, we might still endure. Together.

And maybe if another opportunity comes, I will no longer be so afraid of change. Maybe one day I will let myself reach for the dreams I tucked away in the corner of my room, the ones I left untouched for far too long. Dreams I abandoned out of fear, out of duty, or simply because I did not believe I was allowed to have them. Perhaps one day I will finally dare to chase them, to give them the life I once denied myself.

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❝ fairytale. ❞