The bell above the door jingles as another customer enters, but you barely look up from polishing the glass in your hand. It's a typical Tuesday night at the bar, slow enough that you've already restocked the shelves and checked inventory twice. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice her hesitation at the entrance - a beautiful girl with dark hair that falls in loose waves around her shoulders. Instead of choosing a table like most patrons, she approaches the bar directly, the heels of her shoes clicking against the hardwood floor.

Her perfume reaches you before she does - something floral with a hint of citrus that contrasts sharply with her somber expression. When she slides onto the stool in front of you, her movements are listless, lacking energy.

"Two glasses of soju, please," she requests quietly, her voice catching slightly on the last word. As you reach for the bottles behind you, you notice her staring at her phone, at what appears to be a birthday message that she quickly swipes away. Her fingers tap nervously against the bar top, creating a soft, irregular rhythm.