[SORA POV]
There was a train service disruption because of the heavy snow since last night, so she ended up working from home. She hadn't opened Nestory. Not yet.
She started her day—meetings, laundry, anything to keep her hands busy. During a break, she finally opened the app.
She blinked.
There were 412 notifications.
Her breath caught. Dozens—no, hundreds—of comments had appeared under the chapter.
"I thought this story ended years ago. I can't believe we're back."
"This chapter made me cry. I didn't know how much I needed it."
Sora scrolled. Slowly at first. Then faster. Her hand trembled as she read. Most of the usernames were new. Young readers who had found the story long after it had gone quiet.
Some left long, careful messages. Others only wrote a few words.
You came back.
Her eyes burned again. But this time, the feeling wasn't from pain. Not exactly.
Five years ago, there had only been one. Only reader_cwfan.
Back then, most chapters passed unnoticed. Just that one reader. Always waiting. Always leaving a comment. Even when no one else did.
And now—the story had reached others.
Near the bottom of the comments, she found it.
[reader_cwfan]
I didn't think this door would open again.
Thank you for coming back.
---------
[RIN POV]
It had been a long day.
Rin had just finished rehearsals for the year-end performance. The van was on the way back. Most of the members were asleep, their heads resting against the windows or slumped in their seats.
He sat at the very back, a little apart from the others. His manager and the driver were chatting quietly about the next schedule, but Rin wasn't listening.
He was on his phone, checking his alt account on Nest. It was a faceless account, one that pretended to be a regular FlyMe fan. Sometimes, he used it to monitor fan reactions. Sometimes, he just scrolled.
That's when he saw the thread. Over 50,000 likes.
A FlyMe fan had posted it, linking to haneulsky's story.
They found it.
His thumb paused on the screen. His breath caught, just for a second.
The memory surfaced easily. It happened during the group interview two days ago. They were celebrating their third anniversary, looking back—at old performances, their trainee years, and the moments that had shaped them.
The host smiled as he asked, "During your trainee years, was there anything that helped you get through it?"
It was a prepared question. They all had answers ready—things like their trainers or the seniors who guided them.
But Rin suddenly remembered something else.
He was sitting alone in the practice room that night, after dropping his rank in the monthly evaluation. There had been talks about forming a new group, and he had pushed himself to improve his dancing. He had worked hard, but in the end, the result was the same.
He felt like a failure.
That was when he stumbled on a story in Nestory. He hadn't been searching for anything. He had just found it. And somehow, it pulled him in.
It was about a traveler who arrived at a bookstore near dawn—soaking wet, boots falling apart, a folded map in his pocket that no longer worked. He wasn't looking for a book. He was just looking for a place to stop moving.
A place to stop falling.
He told the owner he was supposed to fly. He had chased something so hard, for so long, that now—after failing—he didn't know what to do. Who to be. Where to go. He didn't even know how to stand still without chasing the next thing.
The owner didn't ask questions. He just handed him a book from the back shelf.
Inside was a note. One sentence.
'Even broken wings remember the sky.'
Rin's eyes paused there.
The story didn't need to say more. The traveler stayed a little longer, drank a cup of tea, and left—not because he'd fixed anything, but because he'd remembered something he thought he'd lost.
Rin didn't scroll past the line right away. He sat with it. It felt like something had answered him.
It was like the bookstore found me.
His memory faded as his name was called. It was his turn to speak. He came back to the present. The answer he had prepared slipped from his mind.
Instead, he found himself saying something else.
"There was a line I found online," he said, slowly. "I don't remember how I stumbled on it, but it stayed with me. It went something like…"
He paused.
The room waited.
"Even broken wings remember the sky."
"That line… it helped me believe I'd fly again, even when I couldn't see how."
The host blinked, then smiled. "That's beautiful. From a novel?"
"Yes."
The interview moved on.
The van rocked gently as it moved through the snow.
Rin opened Nestory—the one he kept buried inside a folder labeled Utilities.
Still logged in. Still bookmarked.
The Bookstore That Never Closed. It was the story that had pulled him in. The story that made him create an account just to leave a comment.
[reader_cwfan]
Thank you for this.
He had followed every chapter until five years ago. Then the author went silent. No announcements. No ending. No goodbye.
Even so, he never really stopped checking. Hoping she'd come back.
Sometimes on tour. Sometimes at 3AM in hotel rooms when he couldn't sleep. Sometimes when he felt like he was slipping further into the version of himself everyone else knew.
The story felt like breathing room. Like something left open.
The bookstore didn't ask questions. Neither did the owner.
And in every chapter, someone lost was found—even if just for a moment.
He started reading one chapter a night.
Then rereading.
Then waiting.
The page loaded slowly, like even the platform didn't believe it could still matter. But when it finished, he froze.
[NEW] Chapter 35 – A Song Without a Title
His thumb hovered.
Then tapped. And suddenly—he was back.
It was raining when the girl found the bookstore.
She hadn't been looking for it.
In fact, she hadn't really been looking for anything.
He read slowly, like the words might disappear if he blinked. He kept going until he reached the final lines.
She had written again. She had come back.
He sat there, staring at the screen.
Then, with unsteady fingers, he opened the comment box.
I didn't think this door would open again.
Thank you for coming back.
He read it over twice. Then hit send.
It was simple. It wasn't enough.
But it was what he could give.
He didn't sign it. He didn't leave a hint. He didn't need to.
He just wanted her to know—someone was still reading.
Through the van window, the snow kept falling. His reflection looked back at him in the glass—hood pulled low, tired eyes beneath the city lights.
He closed the app, slipped his phone into his pocket, and leaned back against the seat.
Maybe she wouldn't see the comment. Maybe she wouldn't remember him at all.
But tonight—the story had opened again.
And Rin was still there.
Reading.
---------
[SORA POV]
Work, as usual.
Sora sat in front of her dual monitors—one filled with code, the other with a mockup for review. Notifications stacked in the corner of her screen. Mostly team chats. None of them urgent enough to break her rhythm or her weariness. She leaned back in her chair and rolled her neck.
It was almost the delivery deadline for their app. There were still bugs to fix.
She glanced around the office. Everyone else was deep in their work, the steady sound of keyboards filling the space. One of her teammates already had his third energy drink sitting on his desk. A message popped up in their work chat.
[Nana 🐰]
Pasta. You. Me. No excuses.
Sora smiled faintly. She stood and stretched.
---------
It was their usual riverside cafe, tucked along the canal near the office. Wide glass windows lined the shop, looking out toward the wooden deck and the river. In spring, the balcony would open, but now in winter, the outdoor seats were stacked in the corner, tied loosely with rope.
Even so, the view was still good. The river moved slowly, carrying a few fallen leaves along its surface. The faint sound of water mixed with the quiet clinking of plates and cups around them.
Nana poked at her iced lemon tea with a straw, already halfway through her tomato sauce spaghetti. "You know, it's still wild that Rin quoted your story on an actual broadcast and you didn't freak out."
Sora blinked, twirling her pasta with a fork. "I did freak out."
Nana rolled her eyes and pointed her fork at her, full drama. "No. This is what you do—you emotionally combust internally. Meanwhile, I'm losing my mind because my favorite group just casually dropped your book quote on camera like it's his daily affirmation."
Sora gave her a flat look. "You were already a fan before this."
"I'm a Pixie," Nana said proudly. "But this? This broke me. My favorite group quoting my best friend's story? I almost threw my tablet across the room when someone posted the clip."
Sora let out a small laugh. "Still doesn't feel real."
"That's because you keep refusing to process it," Nana shot back.
She leaned forward, serious now. "So… what's the plan? Are you coming back? Or was that chapter just a hit-and-run?"
Sora hesitated. "I'm… not sure. Work's been eating me alive again. Maybe I just wanted to leave something behind before I disappear again."
"You're doing that thing where you talk like you're already gone," Nana said, half teasing, but there was a small edge of worry there. "You're not disappearing. You can't. Not now— not when you've finally made me proud to be your second fan."
"Second fan? Why not first?"
"Obviously, cwfan is your first fan. I can't compete with that guy. He's been there since forever."
"I thought you didn't even like my story that much."
"I like that you wrote it. That's enough. I pop in when I remember, but I've never been the stay-up-all-night type for it." She grinned. "That guy though? He's the real deal. You can't beat loyalty like that."
"…Yeah. He's still there."
"Wait—you saw his comment?"
"He wrote, 'Thank you for coming back.' That's all. Just that."
"And you've been holding onto that, huh?"
"I didn't think he'd still be waiting. But… he was." She paused. "I think—that's why I want to try again. Not for numbers. Not because it went viral. Just… for that one reader who never left."
Nana smiled softly. "Then write. Even if it's slow. Even if you get busy again. He waited for you once. He'll wait again."