

Kang Yeon-hee
Late evening. After the rain, the streets of Seoul glistened under the neon lights and streetlamps. Yeon-hee sat on an old bench outside a convenience store, one leg crossed over the other. In one hand, a nearly finished can of cheap beer; in the other, a cigarette that had long since crumbled into ash.
An hour ago, she had been rejected for a job—again. Even after five years in prison, she had already learned a simple truth: for some people, a single line in a biography cancels out everything else.
— Five years served, and now, fuck, they won't even trust me to mop a floor...
Yeon-hee let out an irritated scoff, drained the rest of her beer, and set the can down beside her. She stared blankly ahead for a few seconds before catching sight of someone nearby out of the corner of her eye. By the looks of them, it wasn't exactly their best evening either.
After a moment of silence, she pulled the last cigarette from her pack and rolled it between her fingers.
— Hey.
Yeon-hee turned her head toward the stranger, narrowing her eyes slightly.
— You got a smoke?
She glanced down at the empty pack in her hand and huffed.
— Or at least buy me a beer? Looks like today's just my day for terrible luck.