Chapter 2 - Farewell Eun-sang.

Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the small apartment.

Eun-sang Lee stood by the window, suitcase beside him, one hand pressed against his heart. It still beat, weak, irregular, but enough to remind him that time was running.

On the table lay his resignation letter, already accepted by the school board.

He had promised to come by one last time before his trip to say goodbye properly.

He didn't know how he'd manage it without breaking down.

When he arrived at the school, the autumn wind brushed through the gates, carrying faint traces of chalk and cut grass. He expected empty classrooms, maybe a few teachers finishing paperwork, but the second he stepped onto the campus, he heard laughter.

Dozens of students were there, gathered in the courtyard, his students. His homeroom class.

"Mr. Lee!" they shouted when they saw him, running toward him with letters, notebooks, and even a handmade banner that said: "We'll miss you, Sir!"

He froze, breath catching. "Wh… what are you all doing here? It's Saturday."

A girl wiped her tears and smiled shakily. "You think we'd just let you leave without saying goodbye?"

One of the boys, the loudest troublemaker in class grinned, holding up a paper bag. "We pitched in and got you this, Sir. It's not much, but… open it later, okay?"

Inside, he'd later find a photo frame and a pen engraved with the words: To the best teacher who never gave up on us.

For now, he could only smile. "You guys are unbelievable."

A quiet student stepped forward, clutching an envelope. "Please read this when you're traveling. We… we'll keep studying hard, like you said."

His throat tightened. "Promise me you'll graduate with smiles, not regrets, alright?"

They nodded, some crying, some pretending they weren't.

As he waved goodbye from the gate, he could still hear them shouting.

"Come back soon, Mr. Lee!"

"Take care sir!"

"Take lots of pictures!"

"Don't forget us!"

He didn't have the heart to tell them he never would.

He walked the familiar route home, past the little store that always gave him free bread, past the old woman who watered her flowers at the same hour every day. The neighborhood felt quieter than usual, as though it already knew he was leaving.

When he turned the corner, Mrs. Park, his landlady, came rushing out with a small lunchbox in hand.

"You're leaving already?" she asked, sniffing, her kids tugging behind her.

He nodded. "Just for a while."

"'Just for a while, 'my foot.'" She handed him the lunchbox, warm, fragrant, wrapped in a clean towel. "Kimchi rice, fried egg, and anchovies, your favorite. Eat it on the plane."

He smiled softly. "Thank you, ma'am."

She gave a shaky laugh. "You're too polite for your own good. Go live a little, Eun-sang. Don't come back until you've taken a picture that makes you proud."

He bowed deeply, trying not to cry. "I'll try."

By the time he arrived at the airport, he was ready to meet his new travel companions, just five strangers with suitcases, bound by a strange post he'd written late one night.

But as he stepped through the glass doors, his heart stopped.

The entire departure hall was filled with familiar faces.

His students were there, wearing their uniforms, waving handmade signs.

His co-workers, smiling sadly beside them.

His neighbors, holding up lunchboxes and small gifts.

And standing near the center Flora Treewarn, camera hanging from her neck, eyes sparkling.

She walked up to him, grinning. "You didn't think you could disappear quietly, did you?"

He blinked. "You… you planned this?"

"I might've made a few calls," she said casually. "I told them it was your send-off day. I thought you deserved a proper farewell."

"Flora…" His voice wavered. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she said gently. "And so did they."

The students ran up again, swarming him with hugs and letters. "Sir, promise you'll send us pictures!"

"Don't skip meals!"

"Come back with stories!"

He tried to hold back his tears, but one slipped free. "You kids are going to make me cry at the airport."

Juwon appeared behind him, suitcase in hand, watching quietly. Joo-ha waved from afar, Tian-woo was already strumming his guitar, and Chan-jung stood silently, hands in his pockets.

Eun-sang looked around, at all the faces that had shaped his life, and for the first time, his heart didn't ache. It felt full.

Flora raised her camera. "Everyone! Gather close!" she called.

The crowd shuffled together, students in the front, teachers and friends behind.

Juwon stepped beside Eun-sang, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Eun-sang's voice trembled as he smiled. "Alright, everyone. Let's make it a good one."

"Say cheese!" The man called out.

Click.

The sound of the shutter echoed softly through the glass hall. And just like that, the first picture was taken the first moment of a story that would never be forgotten.

Later, aboard the plane, Eun-sang opened Mrs. Park's lunchbox. The smell of home filled the small space.

"Looks delicious," Juwon said quietly.

He offered the chopsticks. "Wanna try?"

Juwon hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."

After a long silence, Eun-sang looked out the window at the clouds. "You know… maybe this trip isn't really about finding the perfect picture."

Juwon tilted his head. "No?"

"Maybe it's about learning how to say goodbye properly," he whispered.

Juwon's expression softened. "Then let's make it a beautiful goodbye."

Eun-sang smiled faintly, the clouds glowing orange in the setting sun.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Let's."

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