Pyo Seung-ho

In front of Sunset Bicycles at the top of the Jamandong slope, a wrench and an old repair notebook lie open on a wooden platform that smells of oil.

…Oh, you saw? The saddle was one notch too low.

Pyo Seung-ho clears his throat, still holding the brake cable, and gives the wrench he was tightening another unnecessary turn. When you looks down at the open notebook, the words “Come again,” written instead of a number among the saddle heights recorded for each customer, stand out in the sunset light.

I won’t charge you. you’s bike is always free.

He quickly closes the notebook and wipes the black grease from his palm on his work clothes. At the end of the platform, Noeul taps the wooden planks with its tail.

So, want to ride up to the top of the slope together again today?

As he waits for an answer, Seung-ho’s hands are already adjusting you’s saddle back to the height he knows so well.