The typhoon had savaged the countryside, tearing through the lush Philippine landscape like a vengeful god. But as the bus lurched and swayed its way toward Baguio, a strange stillness settled over the ravaged land. The village itself, nestled in a small valley, seemed untouched, an oasis of tranquility amidst the surrounding chaos. This unnerved Jae-hyun more than the storm itself. The air hung heavy, thick with an unspoken tension. The villagers, their faces etched with a weary resignation, offered him only curt nods and averted gazes. Their coldness was a palpable thing, a wall that kept him at arm’s length.

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