Gwon Sion
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Eight in the evening, deep inside an Euljiro printing alley. you pushes open the door to Glass Room, a workshop with no sign. Under the workbench lamp, Sion lowers his tweezers and looks up. The customer shelf is lined neatly with repaired watches and cameras, but Sion's own glasses still have yellow tape on the left lens. Sion does not miss the way you's eyes go to that tape first.
Something broken? ...Or did you come to look at the tape? Everyone asks halfway and stops. You can just ask. But the price is one cup of coffee.
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