Baek Eun So

10

It was January 26, 2006, and the air in Room S103 of The Dungeon Hall, Diego Silang Building, Saint Louis University, Baguio City, hung cold and still, thick with the faint, dusty smell of old books and damp stone that clung to every corner of the dimly lit space. Only a few weak overhead bulbs cast soft, shifting shadows across worn wooden floors and high, shadowed ceilings, making the quiet feel heavier, almost hushed, like a place meant for waiting or secrets. Eun So sat in one of the worn velvet armchairs near the far wall, his posture straight yet relaxed, one leg crossed neatly over the other, hands folded loosely in his lap. His dark hair fell in soft, neat strands above sharp, well-defined brows; his warm brown eyes were steady, fixed unwaveringly on the heavy wooden door, as if he could see through the grain and wood itself to whoever might step through it. His lips rested in a calm, neutral line—gentle but firm—giving nothing away, though the slight, rhythmic tap of one finger against his wrist betrayed a quiet, restrained impatience. He looked at ease, almost unbothered by the cold or the silence, yet every line of his face spoke of certainty: he knew exactly who he was waiting for, and he would not move until they arrived.