There were loud bustling sounds that were coming from various people arranging stuff and managing things, which was like a movie set. Between the movie set, the calm figure sits waiting for her to start the scene. Even through the layers of powder and foundation, Yoon Se-rin could feel the heat pressing against her skin. "Ready!" The director's voice echoed across the studio, and as soon as the voice was heard, the staff moved like clockwork. Makeup artists rushed to Se-rin and started dabbing makeup on her cheek. Someone gave her a bottle of water, someone adjusted the hem of her dress, and someone else fixed her hair. Everyone was careful with her. 

The director said, "Se-rin ssi, last scene." Se-rin smiled. The perfect smile—she has practiced it for years, along with soft eyes and gentle lip movements, just enough to look real and never enough to look tired. Her smile was also known as "The Nation's Sweetheart Smile." Cameras rolled, her co-stars delivered lines, and their voices were thick with heartbreak. She stepped forward, and tears started forming right on cue. "Even if the world forgets you," she whispered, "I won't." The director yelled. "Cut!" There was silence, and then applause filled the set. This was the wrap for the day. Everyone kept approaching her, telling her she did an amazing job. Se-rin bowed repeatedly to everyone, telling them thank you and to go home safely. She kept smiling the entire time, and by the time she reached her van, her cheeks were hurting. 

As soon as she entered the van, the smile disappeared, her lips fell flat, and her shoulders dropped like a switch turned off. If anyone standing outside saw her right now, they would say that her eyes have lost the shine. In the front seat of the car sat her best friend of over 20 years and her agent, Kim Hae-in. Hae-in started the car, and it is now on the road. Hae-in saw in the mirror that Se-rin looked more tired than usual, and she said, "Tough day today; you did good holding up." Se-rin kept looking out the tinted window. The city lights streak past like smears of gold. Se-rin nodded and said, "Mm." That was all she said. 

After some time, the car suddenly stopped in front of the most expensive tower in Seoul. As Se-rin entered, there was a marble lobby, and she entered a private elevator, and along the way, there was very tight security, all of them bowing deeply. For Se-rin, it looked luxurious, but deep inside it was hollow. They reached the luxurious penthouse, and inside the penthouse, the silence was even heavier. Hae-in tossed her bag on the couch, rolled up her sleeves, and looked at Se-rin and told her, "Sit on the sofa. I will cook something for you." Se-Rin said, "You don't have to..." and before she could finish the sentence, Hae-in interrupted and said, "I know; I am still doing it." Se-rin never argued with her because she knew how stubborn Hae-in was, so she just let her do whatever she wanted. She sat on the dining table playing with her phone. 

The kitchen started filling with various types of noises; there was oil sizzling with steam rising, a knife against the cutting board, and a delicious smell started filling the entire area. Hae-in brought a bowl and a dish and put them in front of Se-rin and said, "Stop playing with your phone and finish everything." Se-rin looked at her and said, "Yes, Mom." Hae-in laughed and said, "Don't even start," and she sat down to eat as well. Se-rin now smiled, a real smile, not like the fake one that she did earlier on the set. They ate and talked, and there was peace; there were no phones, no scripts, no staff, and nothing, just quiet and delicious food. After finishing up, Hae-in checked her watch and said, "I've got to stop by the agency; there are some issues with the contract. I will solve it and then go home from there." She left now that Se-rin was all alone again. In the huge silent house, she started doing the dishes, and once they were complete, she decided to take a shower and call it a night. 

She went inside the shower under the flowing water; the steam started to fog up the mirror, and she stood there longer than usual. It looked like she was washing something off, perhaps her makeup, the fake smiles, or the different voices, or perhaps it was the expectations, but when she looked in the mirror again, all she could see was a blurry image. She wiped the steam off, and she saw that it was still herself even after washing everything off, or that's what she thought. She was still tired, still hollow. She changed into a loose hoodie and lay on her huge bed to sleep. Everything on the bed was luxurious and perfect, but sleep didn't want to come; 2 minutes passed, now 5 minutes, which turned to 1 hour. She stood up, changed her clothes, took her car keys, and went straight to the garage. 

Various thoughts were popping in her head while she sat in her car for about 10 minutes, thoughts like interviews, online comments, what if her next drama fails, what if they replace her, and what if everyone forgets her. She shook all the thoughts off and started driving the car. While driving, she noticed that the city at night feels different; it was quieter, there were no fans, and there wasn't a single camera in sight. It was just her; no one would recognize her inside a mask and a cap. She drove till she saw familiar trees; it was a park just on the edge of the city. It was open at night, and there were no people there. She discovered it while returning home from a shoot nearby one day. She parked the car and started her run, which helped her clear her mind. Slowly she finished lap after lap. After some time sweat started forming, and she started to feel her mind clear. She stopped and sat on a bench with water in her hand. While sitting, she noticed a faint golden light coming from an alleyway far from the corner of the street. 

She thought to herself that it's 2AM; why would there be a light like that coming? Despite not wanting to, she felt herself getting drawn closer to that golden light. She walked closer and closer; each step echoed softly, and as she reached the alleyway, she could smell roasted coffee beans. She turned at the corner and stopped there; tucked between old brick buildings was a small cafe. It has a wooden door with wide windows and plants hanging by the entrance, and inside was warm amber light, tables and shelves, along with steam rising from somewhere behind the counter. She could see all of this from the window, and it looked alive, like it was a totally different place than she was used to. It was kind of a place where people would sit together, talk for long, and laugh. She looked up and saw the name of the cafe, Five Leaves Cafe. She said, "What is this place?" As she was about to open the door, the door flung open from inside. A tall figure stepped out; he had broad shoulders with a dark hoodie, which looked like the cafe's uniform. Se-rin looked at him for a bit longer; she saw he had quiet eyes, and he looked like a normal man. He was not flashy, not handsome in a celebrity way. Se-rin could see that he looked like a tree that wouldn't even move in a storm. Their eyes met; for a second, neither of them spoke. Warm light from inside the cafe spilled between them, and for the first time that day, or maybe in months, Yoon Se-rin felt strangely calm. The man studied her silently, and with careful observation, he said in a low, gentle voice, "We are still open." Those three simple words felt warmer to her than anything she had heard all day. 

"We are still open." The words lingered between them, and the warm air drifted along with the scent of something sweet, maybe some bread from the bakery. Yoon Se-rin didn't realize how cold she was until the warm air hit her and touched her skin. Up close the man was even larger, but his eyes were what held her still. They looked sharp, quiet, and observant. Not the curious look of someone recognizing a celebrity and not that awkward look of a fan. It was just calm, like she was just another tired person standing in front of the door of the cafe, and somehow that felt nice. She nodded awkwardly and said, "Okay." The man instantly stepped aside and held the door to let her enter. As soon as she entered, a bell chimed, indicating someone just walked in. She looked up and wondered how the bell chimed if the door was held open and it looked like an electric bell. The man saw that and said, "It's a sensor; it will chime if it senses a person walking under it. It was developed by an employee of mine."

With a nod, she went inside. The cafe was small, with only seven wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and a few stools near the counter, like some bars have. Books were arranged on the shelves, and photos were hanging on the other walls. The interior of the place appeared to have been lived in, with small plant pots on the bookshelves and a variety of potted plants set aside in every corner. The floorboards were also wooden and appeared worn from the outside. Modern coffee makers were located on the counter, which was also made of wood. It wasn't social media-perfect or trendy. It looked like someone stayed there for too long with their friends and family; they all laughed there, cried there, and just had a normal fun time forgetting about everything. It didn't feel like a store that is selling food or drinks. It looks like home, where everyone meets and just has an enjoyable time. 

As she moved forward, she saw there was a man behind the counter; he was making drinks and wiping cups, and he had sleepy eyes and messy hair. He glanced up and saw her and gave a small nod and said, "Welcome." It was low, casual, and not like the customer service voice other cafe employees have. That was it; there was no staring, no whispering, and no question asking, "Aren't you that actress?" Strangely, she relaxed. The tall man from the front door walked from behind her and now appeared in front of her, and it was so silent, she didn't even notice when anything happened. "The menu's up here," he said simply and went back to doing his thing behind the counter. She followed his gaze and found "chalkboard" and "drinks" written there. They were simple drinks. "Americano, latte, mocha, tea," and that's when she noticed right at the bottom it was written, "Tell us how you want to feel; we will make that type of drink." She blinked and went into her thoughts, "How do I want to feel... what kind of menu is that?" She moved closer; there was no register, no ordering screen. Before she could say anything, he appeared in front of her again so silently she startled and her heart jumped. 

"Decided?" He asked; his voice was low, steady, and almost gentle. She stared at his words again and thought to herself, "How do I answer that? How do I explain to a stranger the emptiness inside my chest?" How do I put exhaustion into a drink order? How do I tell him how I want to feel when even I don't know that? She tightened her fingers around the hem of her sleeves, and then, before she could stop herself, like her mouth or her heart betrayed her, she spoke, "I want to feel alive again." The words slipped out; she felt embarrassed; she thought that was too honest, too dramatic. She expected him to look confused, amused, or even uncomfortable, but to her surprise, he just nodded and said, "Okay, please have a seat; I will bring the drink to you soon." She hesitated, and out of habit, she removed her credit card and asked how she could pay. "Don't worry about it; pay at the end, and pay whatever you want to; there are no set prices." She blinked and asked, "Whatever I want?" He nodded and said, "Whatever you can afford." He said it casually, like it was obvious, like the money didn't matter there. Looking at her confused, he smiled; it was small but barely there. It caught her off guard; she said, "Ok...okay!" She chose the seat, the bar stool, and sat near the counter. 

She wanted to watch him make the drink that was going to make her feel alive again, apparently. She wasn't sure why she did that; maybe she was just curious, or maybe she didn't want to be alone at the table. He washed his hands quietly and started working; beans in the grinder, the sharp crackling sound filled the air. The smell hit her immediately; it was rich, deep, and comforting. Hot water hissed, and steam started to rise. His movements were swift and efficient, like many people asked for this drink. Something about it was calming, like watching rain. Then he moved his sleeves up, and that's when she noticed his skin was rough and calloused, there were faint scars across the knuckles, and there was a longer scar near the base of his thumb. It looked like an old injury, but they were the ones that you don't get from cooking. Her gaze moved up to his forearms that flexed slightly as he lifted the kettle. His muscles were defined under warm lights, and the veins were faintly visible. He was strong but not the gym strong that she knew, like someone who was used to carrying heavy things or fighting. For some reason her chest tightened. She quickly looked away and thought, "Why am I staring at his arms?" Suddenly, next to him, the sleepy-eyed man appeared and asked, "Need help, hyung?" He said, "No, I am fine." She thought they were close, not coworkers but like family. 

The milk began to steam, soft white clouds rising, and the scent in the air changed; it smelled sweet, and she could feel the warmth. She thought, "Was it honey?" What did he put inside? He poured slowly and carefully and then placed the mug in front of her and said, "Careful, it's hot." Their fingers almost brushed, and her heart skipped unexpectedly. She wrapped both hands around the mug; it was warm, so warm. The heat seeped into her cold fingers, and her thoughts were in a mess. Will I be able to feel alive? What will it be? How will I really feel if I don't feel alive? Do I tell him? And she took a sip. As soon as the sip hit her throat, all the thoughts stopped. It felt like time itself stopped. The flavor was coffee; it was soft and sweet but not sugary like honey, maybe cinnamon and something deeper she couldn't name. The warmth slid down her throat, then through her chest, her arms, and her legs, the blood finally flowing properly again. 

The exhaustion from running. Gone, the heaviness in her heart. Gone. The tightness in her lungs. Gone. Her eyes widened slightly. "What is this?" she asked. He leaned slightly against the counter. "Too strong?" She shook her head quickly. "No, it's..." Her lips curved without permission. A real smile, a small one, but the smile felt alive, not the fake one she was used to. "It's really good." He nodded once like he already knew. The cafe was silent again. With the clock ticking, soft humming, and warm light around them, she didn't feel like an actress, she didn't feel watched, and she didn't feel like she had to fake a smile. She just felt here, alive, breathing, but across from her, Kang Do-Hyun watched quietly; he wasn't staring, wasn't prying, just making sure she was okay, like that alone was enough. 

The mug was still warm between her palms, steam curled lazily into the air, and Yoon Se-rin took another sip. She took it slower this time, letting it sit on her tongue, letting the warmth sink in. It felt strange to her; it wasn't fancy. There was no expensive syrup inside, no foam art; it was just simple, and yet it made her feel alive again, and every swallow made her chest feel lighter, like someone opened a window inside her. Before she realized it, she smiled again, not a small one, not polite; it wasn't trained, it was a real one, and it was soft, bright, and unfiltered. Across the counter Kang Do-hyun noticed his hands paused for just a second while wiping the cup, then he smiled too. It was subtle, but this time again she caught him smiling; it felt like winning something. He leaned a little closer over the counter and spoke quietly, almost under his breath. "So," he murmured. "Acting life must be tough." 

She nearly choked, "Kgh." Her coffee went down the wrong pipe; she coughed, her eyes widened, and she said, "You know who I am?" There it was, the familiar fear, the moment people recognized her, the change in atmosphere, the whispers, the staring, the requests, and the expectations, but to her surprise, he didn't react like that. He just looked at her calmly and smiled. "Yeah, I know," he said simply. Her shoulders stiffened, and he continued gently and said, "Don't worry." His voice stayed low and steady, and he continued, "No one here cares." She instantly said, "What?" He smiled and continued, "No one here is going to treat you differently or stare or ask for photos." She was surprised; it was like he read her thoughts and reassured her that nothing like that would happen. He just pointed at the cafe and said, "Here you are, just another tired customer." After a small pause, he continued, "So relax and enjoy your drink."

His words hit her harder than expected; she was just another customer here, not a celebrity, not an actress, not Se-rin-ssi, just another normal person. Something warm spread through her chest again. "That's nice," she said softly. He nodded and went back to cleaning. Silence settled once again. It was comfortable and not awkward, and after some time she spoke out of curiosity, "How late do you usually stay open?" He answered, "No fixed timings." She looked confused; he saw her confused look and elaborated, "If the lights stay on, we're open." She blinked and said, "That's it?" He said, "That's it." She asked again, "What if it's 4 AM?" He answered, "Then we are open at 4 AM." She asked, "Isn't it exhausting?" He shrugged lightly and said, "Someone might need a place at 4 AM. "It was that simple, like it was obvious. 

Her fingers tightened on the mug, and she asked again, "What about the money thing?" He answered vaguely, "Ah, you noticed." She said, "How can I not notice? 'Pay whatever you want' is not normal." A faint huff of amusement escaped him, and he said, "This place isn't meant to feel like a store." She curiously asked, "Then what's it meant to feel like?" He thought for a second and answered, "A place where people don't have to think." She tilted her head in confusion. He smiled and continued, "When people are stressed, they are already thinking too much about work, about money, life, and expectations, so here... I don't want them calculating things. Just come in, drink something, breathe, and relax." His eyes met hers, and he said slowly, "Leave lighter than when you came." Something about the way he said it--- it didn't sound like a business idea; it sounded personal, like he built this place for a reason. "You are weird," she said softly. "Yeah," he said without denying it. She laughed under her breath. 

She asked again, "Is it just you two working?" Without getting annoyed, he answered her calmly again, "No, there are three more; the night shift rotates sometime." She heard his answer and sat up straighter, suddenly curious, and asked, "Who are you guys?" He looked mildly surprised at the question; it felt like he wasn't used to talking about himself. Then, after a moment, he said, "I am Kang Do Hyun." The name settled softly in her mind. Kang Do Hyun pointed at the other guy and introduced him: "That's Park Jin Woo." Jin Woo lifted a hand lazily without looking up and said, "Yo." "Hi," she replied automatically. Do Hyun continued, "The other three will show up soon." She nodded and lifted her mug up again and said, "By the way," and he glanced at her and let her finish, "What is this drink?" He looked at the drink like it was nothing special and said, "Just a honey latte." She blinked and said, "That's it?" He listed out the ingredients: "fresh milk, two shots of espresso, a little honey, cinnamon, and salt." "There was salt in here?" she asked, to which he replied, "Just a little bit makes the sweet stronger." After hearing the ingredients in the coffee, she said, "That's so simple." He smiled and nodded. 

She stared at the cup like it had betrayed her and said, "Then why does it taste like therapy?" He let out a little chuckle and said, "Maybe you were just tired." She nods and adds, "Maybe." For her, it felt like more than that; it felt like the first honest breath she'd taken all year. like she could sit here forever and no one would judge her posture, her face, her weight, or her expression. There are no cameras, no scripts, no expectations, and there was just warmth, and without thinking, she murmured, "I like it here." Before he could respond, the bell over the door chimed, the cold air from outside rushed in, and a woman's voice followed, "Captain—Oh, customer..." She froze. Se-rin turned; the woman that spoke was tall with short hair and sharp eyes, and she was holding a convenience store bag. She had a stylish coat, and her stance felt confident. The woman scanned Se-rin in one second and smiled brightly and said, "Ah, welcome!" Behind her was another guy who slipped in; he also had messy hair, and he was carrying what looked like three boxes of bread. He blurted out, "I am starving—oh, customer, never mind; I should act normal." The tall woman shot back, "You are never normal." The man said, "Wow, that's plain rude." Jin Woo appeared from the back and said, "They are here now; peace is over." Suddenly, there were more footsteps. Another woman entered last; she wasn't just quiet, she was gentle-looking, and she was carrying a small container. She gave Se-rin a soft bow and said, "Hello." In seconds the cafe that had been quiet filled with noise, banter, and movements. "Why are you late?" asked Jin Woo, to which the tall woman replied, "Traffic," and Jin Woo snapped back, "At 3 AM?" "Don't question miracles," the tall woman said. Do Hyun suddenly said, "Did you bring the pudding?" "Obviously," said the messy-haired guy. Jin Woo said, "Good, or Captain will sulk again." "I don't," said Do Hyun, the tall girl said, "You definitely do." 

Se-rin blinked, watching them bicker and move around each other effortlessly, like this place was their living room, and they had known each other forever. She found herself smiling without realizing. It was loud, messy, and alive, unlike her house, which was dark, quiet, and empty. This felt warm to her; it was like family, and somehow being an outsider, she didn't feel like an outsider watching; she thought maybe she could belong here too.