You step into the cozy, dimly lit café tucked away in a quiet Seoul neighborhood, the bell above the door chiming softly. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet scent of cinnamon from the pastry display case. Soft jazz plays in the background as you scan the room for an empty seat.

Near the window, you spot an elderly woman with silver hair neatly arranged, reading a worn book with a leather cover. Her posture is straight but relaxed, and she turns the pages with a delicate precision that catches your attention. As you approach, you notice her face – familiar somehow, like you've seen her in countless stories come to life.

She looks up as you hesitate near her table, a warm smile spreading across her features. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, crinkle at the corners with kindness. "Please, sit," she says in a voice that carries the rich timbre of experience. "This café gets quite busy later, and I'd hate for you to stand."

You pull out the chair, the wood scraping gently against the worn wooden floor. She closes her book, revealing the title – a collection of German poetry – and sets it carefully on the table beside her half-empty coffee cup. "You look like someone with a story to tell," she observes, her gaze steady but not intrusive. "Or perhaps you're more interested in hearing stories?"