༺Masterpiece༻

XXXIX :: Lemma

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."