해봄 (haebom) ☁️ chapter four
saebyeol continues to settle into her new life in haebom, finding comfort in her daily routine of walking bori, helping her grandmother, and journaling under the ginkgo tree. on a breezy, clear day, she stops by café haneul for coffee, where she shares a playful exchange with yeonjun behind the counter. however, her peaceful day takes a turn when bori escapes his leash and bolts toward the beach. in her frantic pursuit, she encounters beomgyu, a local photographer, who captures the chaos with a casual, amused attitude. they share a brief, bantering exchange, and despite saebyeol’s annoyance, she’s intrigued by his laid-back charm.
it had become a sort of rhythm already—wake up to bori's cold nose nudging her side, help halmeoni with the morning stew, journal a little beneath the ginkgo tree, and then take a walk through town.
today, the sky was a clear stretch of pale blue, cloudless and wide. the breeze held that just-right balance between cool and warm, brushing softly through the streets like it had all the time in the world.
saebyeol strolled down the path with bori trotting beside her, his tail wagging like a metronome to the beat of her thoughts. she hadn’t planned on going anywhere in particular, just needed to get out, stretch her legs, feel real.
but the scent of roasted beans and cinnamon drifted down the street, tugging her gaze toward café haneul.
“alright,” she murmured to bori, who was already veering toward the shop. “coffee it is.”
she tied bori to the post just outside the café, next to a pot of blooming lavender. he gave a soft whine but settled down quickly, tail still thumping on the pavement.
inside, the warmth of the café wrapped around her like a sweater. familiar already. and, of course, there he was—yeonjun—behind the counter, spinning a spoon dramatically between his fingers like he was auditioning for a cooking show.
“well, well,” he said with a grin as she stepped up. “the runaway returns. how’s small-town anonymity treating you?”
she smirked. “not very anonymous when you insist on announcing me like a regular.”
“hey, i only flirt with people who look like they might never come back,” he teased, then leaned on the counter, chin resting on his hand. “you’re making it dangerously easy to want you as a regular.”
she rolled her eyes. “i’m getting takeaway, calm down.”
he laughed, pushing off the counter. “one hot americano to go, no heart-shaped foam this time—i get it, you’re immune to charm.”
“no, i’m just more interested in caffeine than compliments.”
“ouch,” he said, dramatically clutching his chest. “but also, valid.”
she waited near the window while he worked, fingers tapping the wooden counter in time with the low jazz humming from the speakers. the café smelled like fresh bread today. she made a mental note to ask if they sold the pastries too.
yeonjun returned a minute later, coffee in hand, slightly less smug but still smiling.
“here you go,” he said, handing it over. “don’t spill it this time. or do, if it means you’ll come back again.”
she took it, amused. “you’re persistent.”
“i have to be. this town’s too small to let good people escape.”
before she could come up with a reply, a commotion outside cut through the air—a sudden bark, the sound of scraping claws against stone, and the unmistakable sound of the leash slipping off the post.
saebyeol’s heart dropped.
she rushed outside, barely managing not to spill the coffee. the leash hung empty beside the post, and in the distance, she caught a glimpse of golden fur bolting down the path toward the beach.
she took off after him, coffee in one hand, the other gripping her tote bag as her sandals slapped against the road.
the path narrowed as she got closer to the shoreline. the sea shimmered just ahead, endless and unbothered, and somewhere between her breathless muttering and the sting of sand in her shoes, she heard a shutter click.
she slowed—just a little—and looked to her left.
a guy sat perched on a low wall near the dunes, camera raised to his eye. casual, grinning, and completely unbothered by the chaos that had just stormed past him.
“you know, you don’t see a coffee-wielding girl chasing a golden retriever every day,” he said, lowering the camera with a lazy smile. “that was kind of cinematic.”
she blinked. “did you just take a picture of me?”
bori, meanwhile, had decided to circle back, tongue lolling and tail wagging like this was all a fun game. he trotted right up to the guy and flopped dramatically at his feet.
she caught up, panting slightly, hair a mess from the wind. “you could’ve helped!”
“i was helping,” he said brightly. “i was documenting the moment. very national geographic meets small-town chaos.”
“nah,” he said, patting bori’s head. “you’re new here, right? i’m beomgyu. resident photographer, part-time troublemaker, full-time bori enthusiast, apparently.”
she narrowed her eyes. “min saebyeol. part-time coffee drinker, full-time very annoyed person.”
he grinned wider. “we’re gonna get along great.”
“i sincerely doubt that.”
bori barked once, as if agreeing with absolutely no one in particular.
she bent down to re-clip his leash, brushing sand off her knees and muttering under her breath. when she stood up again, beomgyu was still watching her with a faint smirk.
“i’m serious,” she said. “delete the photos.”
he tilted his head. “come by my studio sometime. if you hate them, i’ll delete them. if not… maybe you’ll owe me a coffee.”
she gave him a look. “i don’t owe you anything.”
“no, but letting someone buy you a coffee isn’t the worst fate.”
saebyeol sighed, tugging bori gently back toward the main path. “you’re insufferable.”
“and yet, here you are—still talking to me.”
as she walked away, she heard the faint click of another photo being taken. she didn’t turn back.
but the coffee in her hand was still warm, and something in her chest flickered—annoyance, amusement, maybe both.
what a town, she thought. even the weirdos have charm.
that night, in her journal, she wrote:
day three
tried to have a peaceful walk. bori had other plans.
i met a photographer with too much confidence and a camera aimed at chaos.
he called it art. i call it annoying.
still… i didn’t hate the way he smiled.
