LAST 24 HOURS in SEOUL

Part 07 | Rei - 12PM

"확실해요?" (Hwaksilhaeyo? Are you sure?)

I can't figure this woman out. From the moment we discussed our plan, she insisted on going to Namsan Tower—that's normal; it's a famous tourist spot. But what gets me is her insistence on hiking instead of taking the cable car. Who does that? Especially with just 24 hours? It's not a logical use of time. It's not practical; if someone only has one day in Seoul, they'll want to maximize every second. Hiking wouldn't even cross their mind. Only 24 hours? Hiking? I'm genuinely curious about what's going on in her head.

"Yes, Rei, I'm 100% sure."

"And without the cable car? You really want to hike?"

"Yes, exactly. Ah, just a moment." She digs into her bag, arms reaching in like she's searching for something vital. After a bit of rummaging, she pulls out... a padlock.

Of course. The love lock thing. Always the same. Namsan Tower and padlocks — a combination that just won't die, thanks to the Korean dramas pushing the idea of "eternal love." It's ironic, though. I've heard they remove the old locks every now and then because of overcrowding—good luck with eternal love.

"Tadaaa! I brought my own locks! Not just one, but two!" She holds up two medium-sized padlocks, yellow and white.

I chuckle, though the irony doesn't escape me. "Of course you did. So, what's that for? boyfriend? Husband?"

She laughs, bright and carefree. "Nope, don't have either. The yellow one's for me, my sister, and my aunt." There's a slight hesitation before she continues. "And the white one... the white one's for family."

There's something in her tone that makes me pause, but I let it slide for now. "Okay, but are you sure about hiking? Do you really have the stamina for it?"

She thinks for a second, her smile unwavering. "Hmm, yeah, I think I can handle it."

"Alright cool—let's leave now"

As we step out of the restaurant, Airin quickly settles the bill. At the cashier's table, she tries to compliment the ahjumma behind the desk, praising the delicious samgyetang and saying she will never forget it, all in English, while giving her a thumbs-up. The ahjumma just nods and smiles—I doubt she understands, but I believe she appreciates the gesture from Airin.

We walk side by side, heading back toward the station. The cold air cuts through the streets, but she doesn't seem to notice. She's got this endless energy, like she could power through anything.

As we walk, I start thinking about my next move. I've already got some for my so-called tour guide services and another one on hanbok rental earlier. And she hasn't caught on, and I doubt she ever will. Tourists like her are easy marks—starry-eyed and looking for that perfect experience. There's always more I could squeeze out of her.

Maybe I could convince her to buy some overpriced souvenirs—I know a few vendors who give a nice cut to anyone who brings in easy marks like her. Or maybe there's a special "locals-only" experience I could charge for, something that sounds exclusive but is just another "trap." She's trusting enough to believe anything at this point.

But none of these ideas feel quite right. The souvenir idea might work, but she's not your average tourist. She's a little different. I need more information.

"Hey, Airin," I begin casually, keeping my voice light, "about the locks you showed earlier—why two locks? I get that one's for your aunt and sister, but what about the white one?"

She glances at me, still smiling but with something guarded behind it. "Well, the yellow one's for the people who are still here, you know? And the white one... it's more symbolic. For my family that's... not here."