Enchanted Hearts: A Tale of Magic and Love

Chapter 1: Struggles of Choi Sara

The city of Seoul, with its towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, seemed to pulse with life at all hours. For many, it was a place of endless opportunities, where dreams could be woven into reality. But for Choi Sara, the city was a double-edged sword—both a source of inspiration and a constant reminder of how far she had drifted from the dreams she once held so dear.

Sara had always been a dreamer. As a child, she would sit by the window of their small apartment, listening to the gentle hum of the city below, and imagine herself on a grand stage, a spotlight casting a golden glow as she strummed her guitar and sang from her heart. Music was her escape, her passion, her way of making sense of the world. But as the years passed, the harsh realities of life began to chip away at her dreams, until they seemed as fragile as the worn-out strings on her beloved guitar.

Now, at twenty-two, Sara found herself navigating a life that was far removed from the one she had envisioned. The weight of responsibility pressed down on her like an invisible hand, leaving little room for the fantasies of her youth. Her days were a blur of lectures, part-time jobs, and the ever-present worry that seemed to coil around her like a serpent, tightening its grip with each passing day.

She would wake before dawn, the first rays of sunlight barely peeking over the horizon as she hurried to her first job of the day—a small coffee shop nestled in a quiet corner of the city. The shop was old, its wooden floors creaking underfoot, and the air always carried the comforting scent of freshly ground coffee beans. The owner, a kindly elderly man with silver hair and a warm smile, had taken a liking to Sara, often slipping her a free cup of coffee or a warm pastry to start her day.

"Good morning, Sara," he would greet her with a nod as she tied her apron around her waist. "You're early, as always."

Sara would smile, though the expression rarely reached her eyes. "Good morning, Mr. Kim. Early bird catches the worm, right?"

He would chuckle softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Indeed. But don't forget, even the early bird needs rest."

Sara knew he meant well, but rest was a luxury she could seldom afford. After her shift at the coffee shop, she would rush to her classes at the university, barely managing to stay awake during the lectures. She was majoring in business—a practical choice, one that she had been gently nudged toward by her mother, who had always wanted her daughter to have a stable future. But the numbers and theories that filled her textbooks felt lifeless to Sara, a far cry from the vibrant melodies that once filled her mind.

It wasn't that she disliked business; she simply didn't love it. It lacked the passion that music had always ignited within her. But passion didn't pay the bills, and so she buried her feelings beneath a veneer of determination, pushing herself to excel in a field that she found little joy in.

Between classes, Sara worked a second job at a convenience store near the university. It was a monotonous job, where the hours seemed to stretch endlessly as she rang up purchases and stocked shelves. The customers rarely looked her in the eye, and she often felt like a ghost, drifting through the motions of a life that wasn't truly hers.

The only solace she found was in the brief moments when she could retreat to the rooftop of her apartment building. The rooftop was her sanctuary, a place where she could escape from the demands of the world below. It wasn't much to look at—just a flat, concrete space with a few old chairs and a rusty railing that overlooked the city—but to Sara, it was the closest thing to freedom she had.

Late at night, when the city's lights shimmered like distant stars, Sara would sit on the rooftop with her guitar in hand. The guitar was old, its wood faded and its strings worn, but it was the one thing she had left from the days when music had been her everything. She would strum the strings gently, letting the familiar chords fill the night air as she sang softly to herself.