The alarm didn't ring. Not because she missed it, Lee Minseo never set alarms.
Her flip phone, tucked neatly beside a stack of unpaid water bills and empty coffee sachets, remained silent, like the rest of her world. The pale morning light crept through the dusty blinds of her studio apartment, brushing over the beige walls that hadn't changed in three years. Neither had she.
Minseo sat on the edge of her bed, legs dangling, face blank. Her thoughts felt like static on an old television, fuzzy, dull, and endless.
She reached for her coat, same as yesterday, and the day before, and slipped it on like a second skin. Her bag was already packed: sketchbook, charger, half-eaten protein bar. She never unpacked it. No time, no reason.
The hallway outside her apartment reeked faintly of burnt toast and loneliness. She didn't care.
"If the world was ending," she thought, pushing the elevator button that took ages to glow, "I'd probably be brushing my teeth, kissing pillars, or checking for deadlines."
She exhaled. Dry. Tired.
"Never in my life has a boy held my hand."
The thought annoyed her for no good reason.
At the office, the fluorescent lights hummed louder than the people.
Park Jiwoo was already seated, black blazer, black under-eye circles, blacker mood. Her monitor glared with unfinished slides. Minseo didn't bother greeting her. Jiwoo wouldn't answer anyway, not until caffeine entered her bloodstream.
Two desks down, Yoon Yumi tapped away at her phone, giggling to herself. Her screen was filled with edits of NEONIX, a new behind-the-scenes video had just dropped.
"Minseo," Yumi called softly, swinging in her chair, "They released the acoustic version of 'Glasswall.' You'll love it. The harmonies, Jong-Su's voice? Literal medicine."
Minseo blinked. Flip phone. No app store. No music.
"I'll take your word for it," she muttered, turning on her system. Her desktop wallpaper was a gray mountain. Not aesthetic. Just default.
She opened her project folder. Same thumbnails. Same client revisions. She traced the rim of her coffee mug, cold already. Bitter, even without a sip.
Across the aisle, Yumi was still scrolling.
"Minseo, you should really watch their performance from last night. Jong-Su's eyes looked like he'd been crying. It was so raw."
Minseo stared at her blankly.
And for a split second, just a second, she imagined what it would feel like to cry for a boy she never met.
Not from sadness.
But from being moved.
Touched.
Alive.
But she shook the thought off.
Deadlines first. Feelings later.
Or never.
Her screen blinked. New file received. The clock read 9:04. Her coffee had gone from cold to lukewarm in exactly twelve minutes. The static in her head hadn't faded, but at least now it had a melody.
A melody she couldn't hear.
But wanted to.
Almost.