The restaurant hummed with the quiet energy of a December evening, its warmth a stark contrast to the winter chill outside. We were seated at a round table near the window, the glass lightly frosted at the edges, offering a view of snowflakes dancing lazily in the night air. Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting, the gentle clink of glasses and the low murmur of conversations blending into a soothing backdrop.

We had already placed our orders—seasonal Korean dishes that promised the comforting heat and richness of winter flavors. The table was adorned with small, elegant dishes of pickled vegetables and kimchi, the vibrant colors adding a festive touch to the setting.

Antonella was mid-sentence, recounting a humorous story from earlier that day, her hands animated as she spoke. Jimin leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he listened, his gaze shifting between her and the rest of us. Y/n sat beside me, her laughter soft and genuine, a sound that seemed to blend seamlessly with the crackling of the nearby fireplace.

“Do you remember that time we tried to make hotteok at home?” Antonella was saying, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And the entire kitchen ended up covered in flour?”

Jimin chuckled, shaking his head. “I think we were more focused on eating the dough than actually cooking it.”

Y/n leaned in slightly, her eyes bright with amusement. “And didn’t someone almost set the stove on fire?”

“That was definitely Antonella,” I chimed in, earning a playful nudge from her in return. The easy banter between us was a familiar dance, one that had been perfected over countless shared meals and long nights spent in each other’s company.

As the conversation continued, I found myself glancing around the restaurant, taking in the soft glow of candlelight that bathed the room in a golden hue. The garlands of evergreen draped along the walls, and the grand tree in the corner, its ornaments catching the light like tiny beacons, only felt nostalgic.

As Jimin delicately savored each bite of his rice, he posed a question, his voice laced with curiosity. "By the way, how far have we come in pinpointing Mai's actual location?"

Y/n sighed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. "Not very far, I'm afraid. The letters I found don’t bear any indication of where they originated. They were international, sent through a private agency."

Jimin leaned in slightly, his brow furrowing. "Which agency?"

"Something by the name of Park's Delivery Service," Y/n replied, her tone contemplative.

"And where was it based?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Somewhere deep within the heart of Seoul," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper. "And that’s exactly why it's been so difficult to trace the actual sender."

I leaned back in my chair, absorbing her words.

"If it was in Seoul, then its clients could have been from anywhere across the country. If only that service still existed today," Antonella mused, her fingers lightly drumming on the table.

"Indeed," I agreed, my thoughts wandering. "But the 1980s weren’t that long ago—less than thirty years, really. Why assume the company is defunct?"

Antonella's eyes flickered with a knowing gleam. "Because it has closed down. I looked into it immediately after stumbling upon the name. The building where it once operated has been demolished, replaced by a modern apartment complex."

"Businesses have a way of fading away with time," she added, her voice softening as she gazed into the distance. "It’s just the way of the world, I suppose."

Her words hung in the air like a lingering echo, a reminder of the relentless march of time and the fleeting nature of everything we seek to hold onto.

Throughout the conversation, Jimin’s gaze remained fixed on me, his eyes sharp with focus, absorbing every word spoken, as if each syllable held the key to unraveling the mystery.

"Can you repeat the name, Y/n?" he asked, his voice calm but with a hint of urgency.

"Park's Delivery Service," Y/n replied, her tone steady.

Jimin's eyes narrowed slightly. "No, don't translate it. Tell me the original name. Is it Bak-ssi Baedeul Seobisseu?"

A spark of realization lit up Y/n's face. "Yes, yes it is! But how did you know?" Antonella interjected, her voice tinged with surprise.

A small, almost imperceptible smile played on Jimin's lips as he leaned back in his chair. "I have a client scheduled for tomorrow. A gentleman, 53 years old, who used to work for that very company about nine years ago—just before it shut down."

A thrill of excitement surged through me. "Viola! Jimin Hyung, you’re the IT!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my elation.

The room seemed to pulse with newfound energy as our breakthrough dawned upon us. Jimin's discovery was a glimmer of hope in our search, a piece of the puzzle that might just lead us closer to the elusive truth.

Jimin's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as he considered the possibilities. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice soft but laced with intrigue. "You know, JK," he began, drawing out my name with a certain playfulness, "you could come and join me tomorrow at my chamber."

My curiosity was immediately piqued. "Really?" I asked, leaning in, eager to hear more.

Jimin nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes, with Mr. Cha—the gentleman I was talking about, not very gentle however. The appointment is set for the evening. It might be our best chance to get some answers."

I felt a surge of anticipation, the idea of being so close to someone who could hold vital information sending a thrill down my spine. "That sounds perfect. But are you sure it’s okay for me to be there?" I asked, a touch of doubt creeping into my voice.

Jimin chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. "There's just one small condition," he said, tilting his head slightly as if to emphasize the point. "You’ll have to stay with me the entire time. That’s the only way I could convince the others at the facility that you’re a student."

I grinned, the challenge only making the prospect more exciting. "So, I have to play the role of a student, huh?"

"Precisely," Jimin confirmed, his expression one of amused satisfaction. "We’ll blend in perfectly. No one will suspect a thing."

Antonella’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she chimed in, "This could be the lead we’ve been waiting for."

I nodded, my determination solidifying. "Then it’s settled. Tomorrow evening, I’ll be there."

Jimin’s smile widened, and he extended his hand towards me. "The entire time means the whole day, deal, then?"

I shook his hand firmly, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "Whatever it takes." As we locked eyes, I knew that whatever secrets Mr. Cha held, we would uncover them together.

As the conversation drifted from one shared memory to another, Antonella suddenly grew quieter, her usual animated gestures slowing as her gaze turned thoughtful. I noticed her glancing at me, her eyes searching mine as if she were weighing her next words carefully.

“JK,” she began softly, her voice just above a whisper as she reached across the table to take my hand. The warmth of her touch sent a wave of curiosity through me, and I immediately knew something was up. The casualness of the evening seemed to shift, the air around us thickening with the anticipation of whatever she was about to say.

“There’s something I need to tell you all,” she continued, her eyes scanning the faces around the table, lingering on mine. “Especially you, JK. But I’ll wait until we’re all together. That way, none of you will get that nagging face.”

Her attempt at lightening the moment did little to ease the knot forming in my stomach. Antonella was rarely this serious, and the look in her eyes told me this wasn’t just another one of her stories. The last time I saw this face was when she told me, she was leaving, she was leaving me alone, and going back to where she belonged.

The others had gone quiet too, their attention fully on her, the easy flow of conversation replaced by an almost palpable tension.

“When I first shifted here,” Antonella began again, her voice steady but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place, “I met a guy. He was a year ahead of me in school. From the very beginning, I had a liking for him. For a long time, I… I guess you could say I manifested something between us.”

The words hung in the air like a delicate thread, each one weaving a new piece of a story none of us had seen coming. My mind raced to piece it together, but all I could do was listen as she continued, her grip on my hand tightening just slightly.

“We had been on and off,” Antonella confessed, her voice quiet yet tinged with a vulnerability that made her words hang in the air. A small, almost self-conscious smile played on her lips as she continued, “Going out once in a while, staying over now and then… But yesterday, he asked me if I wanted to be with him forever—not just for moments here and there, but truly, for the long haul.”

For a brief, almost surreal moment, the room was enveloped in a stunned silence, the kind that stretches out, turning seconds into what feels like an eternity. It was as if time itself had slowed, allowing the weight of Antonella's confession to fully sink in.

Jimin, ever the one to break the tension, suddenly blurted out, “He proposed? Really?”

Antonella nodded, her smile widening ever so slightly, though it was still tempered by the gravity of what she was sharing. Her eyes flickered between us, as if gauging our reactions. Meanwhile, I found myself grappling with a surge of emotions that I hadn’t anticipated. There was a knot in my chest, a mix of disbelief and something far more complex, something that gnawed at me in a way I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

It wasn’t just shock that I was feeling—no, it was deeper, more unsettling. A sense of unease crept over me, its tendrils winding around my thoughts, refusing to let go. I tried to maintain a neutral expression, to keep my composure intact, but I could feel my emotions betraying me, slipping through the cracks despite my best efforts.

Antonella’s words continued to echo in my mind, but I found myself fixating on one particular phrase: “if I wanted to be with him forever.” It was the kind of declaration that should have filled me with joy for her, yet all I could feel was a strange, hollow ache somewhere deep inside. The suddenness of it all had blindsided me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted beneath the surface of our friendship.

Antonella was still looking at me, her expression soft and perhaps a little concerned, as if she sensed the turmoil brewing just beneath my exterior. I wanted to say something, anything, to convey that I was happy for her, but the words seemed to evade me, caught in the tangle of emotions I was struggling to unravel. Instead, I just nodded, forcing myself to focus on the happiness in her eyes, even as my own thoughts spiraled into unexpected and unwelcome directions.

Y/n’s voice cut through the silence, bright and full of warmth. "That's wonderful news, Antonella!" she rejoiced, her enthusiasm genuine and infectious.

Jimin, always the one to add a playful twist, leaned back with a mischievous grin. "So, the last member of the group has lost her virginity, am I right?" He winked, his tone light-hearted, as if trying to diffuse any lingering tension.

Antonella laughed, a sound that was both relieved and amused, but there was a blush that crept up her cheeks. "It’s not about that, Jimin," she replied, shaking her head, though she couldn’t help but smile at his teasing. "It’s about what comes next. The real commitment."

The room seemed to shift in response to her words, the gravity of her decision settling over us. Jimin’s grin softened into something more genuine, a look of understanding passing between them. "I’m really happy for you, Antonella. That’s a big step."

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and something more introspective.

But as the conversation continued, I found myself slipping further into my own thoughts, the words around me fading into the background. Antonella was embarking on a new chapter, one that was filled with possibilities and promises of a future I hadn’t fully considered until now. And while I should have been entirely supportive, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something had shifted irreversibly, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face what that meant—for her, for us, or for myself.