Bo Ah woke up to the steady sound of a heart monitor.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Her eyelids felt heavy, her body numb, as if she had been pulled back from somewhere far away. The ceiling above her was white—too white—and the smell of antiseptic filled her nose.

Before she could move, a familiar voice broke into sobs.

“Oh my goodness—Bo Ah!”

A woman rushed to her bedside, gripping her hands tightly, tears streaming down her face.

“Are you okay? I thought something terrible had happened to you. You scared me so much…”

Bo Ah stared at the woman.

Her face was familiar. Too familiar.

Yet something felt terribly wrong.

“…Who are you?” Bo Ah asked quietly.

The woman froze.

“What?” she whispered. “Bo Ah, it’s me. Your mother.”

Bo Ah slowly pulled her hand back. Her heart began to pound.

“No,” she said, her voice trembling. “Who are you really? And… where am I?”

Panic flashed across the woman’s face. “Doctor! Doctor!” she cried, rushing out of the room.

Bo Ah’s eyes darted around the hospital room. The curtains, the window, the faint sunlight—everything felt wrong. Not unfamiliar, but unsettlingly known. Like a memory she hadn’t lived.

Moments later, a doctor entered, calm and composed.

“She’s awake?” he asked gently.

“Yes, but she’s confused,” her mother said anxiously. “She doesn’t recognize me.”

The doctor examined Bo Ah carefully, shining a light into her eyes.

“This is a temporary effect of the medication and exhaustion,” he explained. “Her vitals are stable. No brain damage. She just needs rest.”

Bo Ah didn’t believe him.

Everything felt too real to be a hallucination.

Hours later, she was discharged.

The drive was quiet. Bo Ah stared out the window as buildings passed by—streets she had never walked, yet somehow recognized. Her chest tightened the closer they got to their destination.

The car slowed.

Stopped.

Her breath caught.

A mansion stood before her.

Tall iron gates. White pillars. A perfectly manicured garden.

Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.

“No…” she whispered.

As she stepped inside, her legs felt weak. The interior was elegant, bathed in warm light. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers.

And then—

Footsteps.

A young man walked down the grand staircase.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Perfect posture.

Handsome in a way that didn’t feel human.

Bo Ah froze.

Her blood turned cold.

That face…

Before she could speak, another presence entered her vision.

A woman.

Beautiful. Graceful. Her aura commanding the room without effort.

Bo Ah’s breath hitched.

Her mind screamed.

She staggered back, gripping the wall.

“This place…” Bo Ah whispered. “Mrs… this place looks familiar.”

Without waiting for a response, she ran outside.

She scanned the surroundings wildly—the garden, the driveway, the distant hills.

Everything matched.

Every detail.

Exactly like the world she had watched through a screen.

Her legs carried her back inside in a rush. Everyone stared at her, confused, alarmed.

She grabbed the woman beside her.

“Tell me,” Bo Ah said, her voice shaking. “Tell me right now—where am I?”

The woman frowned. “Bo Ah, what are you talking about?”

Bo Ah swallowed hard.

“Where is Kang Se Rah?”

Silence.

Then—

Mrs. In turned slightly, her expression puzzled.

“What are you asking?” she said. “She’s right behind you.”

Bo Ah’s body stiffened.

Slowly—so slowly—she turned around.

And there she was.

Kang Se Rah.

The woman she knew too well.

The powerful, beautiful lady from Our Happy Hour.

Standing right in front of her.

Alive.

Real.

Bo Ah’s vision blurred.

Her knees buckled.

And the world went dark.

A month ago

Kim Bo Ah pedaled through the narrow streets of the city, a delivery bag strapped tightly to her back. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight filtered weakly through the gray clouds above. She had just dropped off another order—her sixth of the day—and was heading toward the restaurant she worked at, weaving through traffic with tired legs and a blank expression.

This was her life now. Quiet. Repetitive. Boring.

Bo Ah had forgotten what it felt like to smile without forcing it. These days, her happiness came in borrowed moments—small flickers of comfort from fictional characters on glowing screens.

"I'm back," she muttered as she pushed the restaurant door open. The warm scent of grilled meat and soup greeted her, wrapping around her like a tired old blanket.

"Bo Ah! Good work today," her boss said cheerfully, waving from behind the counter. He was a kind man in his early fifties, with a soft face and a voice that never yelled. "No more deliveries for now. Take a break."

"Okay," she replied quietly, bowing her head.

She found her usual seat at the far corner of the restaurant, by the window. From her jacket pocket, she pulled out her phone, opened the streaming app, and tapped on the next episode of Moment With You. A gentle smile tugged at her lips—barely there, but real. The opening music played, and Bo Ah leaned forward, eyes softening. For the next few minutes, nothing else existed.

Then a voice interrupted her escape.

"Excuse me, miss?" a woman called out. "Can I get a menu?"

Bo Ah startled slightly, realizing she was still technically working. She quickly stood up, bowed politely, and walked over to the woman’s table. In one hand, she carried the food tray; in the other, her phone still played the drama quietly.

The woman looked curious, glancing at the screen. "What drama are you watching?"

Bo Ah blinked and hesitated, a bit shy. "Ah… Moment With You."

The woman’s eyes lit up. "I’m also a drama fan! Is there any drama I haven’t seen, though? I feel like I’ve watched them all."

Bo Ah looked at her for a moment—ten seconds, maybe more. It wasn’t often someone asked her something she actually cared about. Then, without even realizing it, she rattled off a few titles like it was instinct.

"Secret Life of My Secretary?"

"So Ah: Watched."

"Lovely Runner?"

"Watched."

"Moorim School?"

"Watched, watched, watched," the woman laughed.

Bo Ah’s eyes widened just slightly. For the first time today—maybe the whole week—she looked more than neutral. She looked… interested.

"I didn’t think anyone else liked Moorim School," Bo Ah said softly.

"It was chaotic, but in a good way!" So Ah replied, laughing again. "There’s something about the weird ones, huh?"

Bo Ah nodded. The conversation was short, but something about it lingered. It was rare for her to talk about what she loved with someone who understood. Even rarer to feel seen, even just for a moment.

...Maybe today wasn’t so boring after all....

The lady laughed as she wiped her hands with a napkin. "You’ve got good taste," she said, smiling warmly. “But tell you what—let’s make it fun. I’ll give you a list of dramas. Let’s see if you’ve really watched them all.”

Bo Ah tilted her head, curious. She watched as the woman scribbled a list on the back of a receipt with a borrowed pen. She handed it over, sliding it across the table like it was some kind of test.

Bo Ah scanned the list and nodded slowly as she began to mark.

While You Were Sleeping — watched.

The Smile Has Left Your Eyes — watched.

Healer — of course.

Kill Me, Heal Me — one of her favorites.

Moon Lovers — painful, but watched.

Our Beloved Summer — watched.

Uncontrollably Fond — she paused, then marked watched.

And then she saw it.

Our Happy Hour

She stopped.

Bo Ah stared at the title. Her pen hovered for a moment before she shook her head.

“No,” she said quietly. “I haven’t watched this one.”

The woman leaned back in her seat, smug. “Ha! Knew it. You can’t beat me.”

Bo Ah smiled faintly, the tiniest shrug on her shoulder. “Guess not.”

The woman’s expression softened. “That one has a sad ending. Think you can handle that?”

Bo Ah raised an eyebrow, her voice calm but firm. “Sad endings don’t bother me. It’s just fiction. Not real. Why should I cry over something that didn’t happen?”

The lady looked at her for a long moment, then gave a small, knowing smile. “Is that so? Well… watch Our Happy Hour, then. Let’s see if you still feel that way after.”

Bo Ah didn’t reply. She just nodded.

“It was nice meeting you,” the lady said as she stood, brushing crumbs from her lap. “Thanks for the great conversation, Ma.” She gave a small bow.

Bo Ah blinked. “Wait—how did you…?”

“Oh, I gotta go now,” the woman said quickly with a wink. “Enjoy the drama.”

And with that, she walked out, the little bell on the restaurant door jingling gently behind her.

Bo Ah stood there for a moment, holding the receipt in her hand, still warm from the woman’s fingers.

Just then, her boss came over, a curious look on his face. “Do you two know each other?”

Bo Ah shook her head. “No. First time I met her.”

The boss turned and looked toward the door the woman had exited through. “Hmm,” he murmured. “She acted like she knew you.”

The smile she left Bo Ah with had long faded. But something about the encounter lingered in the air—like the scent of a memory just about to bloom.

Bo Ah stepped into the small apartment, tossing her delivery jacket onto the worn couch. It was quiet—comfortably so. For once, no yelling, no slamming doors. She kicked off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of water before sinking into the floor with a sigh. The stillness wrapped around her like a blanket.

She liked it when no one was home. It made the world feel slower. Safer.

Exactly twenty-four minutes later, the door creaked open. Her mother stepped inside, arms full of grocery bags and a takeout container in one hand.

“Bo Ah,” her mother called out. “I brought dinner.”

Bo Ah stayed where she was. She had learned long ago not to expect much.

Her mother set the food on the table, opened it, and started eating—just one portion. Nothing for Bo Ah. She didn’t even glance her way.

Bo Ah stood quietly and began cooking something simple for herself—rice and leftover side dishes from two days ago.

“You know,” her mother started between bites, “I saw Hye So today. Isn’t she your childhood friend? I think she’s living a good life now. Drove up in a luxury car… and her boyfriend? Handsome, wealthy. A real catch.”

Bo Ah didn’t look up from the stove. “Good for her.”

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head. “Ahh, I wish she was my daughter. Can you imagine? Living in a big house, no stress, nice things every day? That would be the dream. Meanwhile—” she glanced over, “—why haven’t you gotten yourself a boyfriend yet? You should aim for a wealthy man too, Bo Ah. It’s not like you’re getting any younger.”

Bo Ah stirred the rice slowly, her voice soft but steady.

“Hye So and I were six when we met,” she began. “I always beat her in school. I was the top student. First to arrive. First to finish assignments. Back then, she used to say she wanted to be me.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“I really thought hard work paid off.”

She turned off the stove and stood still.

“What?” her mother scoffed, frowning. “Bo Ah, how many times have I told you not to talk back when I’m speaking?”

Bo Ah clenched her jaw.

“It’s not my fault your life turned out like this,” her mother continued, waving her chopsticks in the air. “You should have been better. Tried harder. Honestly, I don’t even know what your purpose is anymore.”

Bo Ah placed her bowl down, her appetite gone. “I’ll leave now. Good night.”

Her mother scoffed. “Yah! Come back here when I’m talking to you!”

But Bo Ah had already slipped into her room, locking the door behind her. The yelling was muffled now, like distant thunder.

She collapsed onto her mattress and picked up her phone, resuming Moment With You—the only thing that made her heart feel anything.

By the time the final credits rolled, her eyes were heavy. She didn’t even realize when she fell asleep, the faint sound of the ending theme playing like a lullaby in the background.

Somewhere between sleep and silence, a tear rolled down her cheek.

The next morning, Bo Ah rubbed her eyes as sunlight peeked through her window blinds. She sat up slowly, groggy from sleep and the heaviness that always clung to her chest like a second skin.

When she opened her bedroom door, a warm, unexpected scent greeted hersomething savory and familiar.

Did Mom… cook?

She blinked in disbelief as she stepped into the kitchen. The table was set with warm food stew, side dishes, even freshly cooked rice. It had been so long since the house felt like this.

That’s when she heard laughter soft, polite, and unfamiliar. She glanced toward the living room and stopped in her tracks.

There, sitting comfortably across from her mother, was Hye So.

Perfect hair, flawless makeup, designer handbag slung over the chair. Her old childhood friend looked like someone from a glossy magazine.

Bo Ah stood frozen for a moment before forcing herself to smile.

“Hi… Hye So.”

Hye So turned, her expression lighting up. “Bo Ah! It’s been so long.”

“Yeah,” Bo Ah said softly. It felt strange. This wasn’t the girl who used to trade snacks with her at recess. This was someone else shiny, polished, untouchable.

“Bo Ah,” her mother called, “go ahead and serve Hye So some food, will you? Don’t just stand there.”

“I’m okay, really,” Hye So said politely, waving her hand. “I just came to see Bo Ah. I won’t stay long.”

Bo Ah gave her mother a tight smile and stepped aside.

“Can we… talk outside?” Hye So asked.

Bo Ah nodded, slipping on her sandals and following her out.

The sunlight outside was sharp, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. Hye So’s sleek black car gleamed by the curb, an obvious symbol of how far she’d come or maybe how far Bo Ah had fallen behind.

Bo Ah glanced at it.

“That your car?”

“One of them,” Hye So said casually, unlocking it with a beep.

“Lucky you,” Bo Ah replied, not unkindly. Then her voice dropped. “Are you still with Kang Gi Oh?”

“Of course,” Hye So said, beaming. “He actually bought me this one.” She patted the car affectionately.

Bo Ah looked away. “Oh.”

There was a pause, awkward and heavy.

Hye So spoke again, gentler this time. “It must be hard… living here still. I mean, I remember when we used to play around here as kids.”

Bo Ah nodded. “I remember.”

“Here,” Hye So said, digging into her purse and handing her a small card with a handwritten address. “Come visit sometime. My apartment's not far. We should catch up properly.”

“Okay,” Bo Ah said, though she didn’t know if she meant it.

“Take care, Bo Ah. Really.”

And with that, Hye So slipped into her car, waved once through the window, and drove off, her taillights disappearing down the street.

Bo Ah stood on the sidewalk, staring at the card in her hand.

It didn’t hurt that Hye So had done well. It hurt that she hadn’t.

Bo Ah stared at the address card in her hand long after Hye So’s car had disappeared down the road. She didn’t feel jealous not really. It wasn’t envy that gnawed at her. It was something else.

Curiosity, maybe. Or boredom. A craving for anything that could kill the endless daylight.

She sighed and turned around, walking slowly back to the apartment. The door creaked open, and the stale air welcomed her like it always did.

Her mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen, sharp and casual at the same time. “Your friend gone already?”

“Yeah,” Bo Ah replied, slipping off her shoes and heading to her room.

But her mother wasn’t finished. “Tch. Can you believe how well she’s doing? A nice car, rich boyfriend, beautiful clothes. And look at you. Still dragging your feet around like you’ve got nowhere to go.”

Bo Ah didn’t respond. She was used to it.

“Don’t you feel embarrassed?” her mother continued, not even waiting for a reply. “I mean, she’s your age, and she’s out there living. Meanwhile what are you doing? Working at a restaurant and watching silly dramas all day?”

Still, Bo Ah said nothing. She just went into her room, shut the door quietly, and changed into her work clothes.

The silence was heavier in her room, but at least it was hers.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a few seconds. Her face looked tired, pale under the flickering light.

She tied her hair up, grabbed her bag, and stepped out.

“I’m going to work,” she said flatly.

Her mother didn’t reply. Or maybe she did but Bo Ah had already tuned her out.

She didn’t care what her mother thought. Not really.

She just needed the hours to pass.

And maybe… tonight, she’d start a new drama.

The one that stranger at the restaurant had recommended.

Our Happy Hour.