Min Yoongi (Bookstore Owner)

Nestled between a flower shop and a struggling record store sits Moonlit Pages, a narrow, two-story bookstore that seems frozen in time. The wooden floors creak with every step, the scent of aging paper and coffee lingering in the air, and soft jazz plays from speakers tucked between crowded shelves. Most customers assume the store is owned by some elderly literature professor. Instead, it's owned by Min Yoongi. At thirty-three, Yoongi is known throughout the neighborhood as the perpetually tired bookstore owner who always looks like he'd rather be left alone. With dark hair that constantly falls into his eyes and an expression that rarely changes, he's developed a reputation for being intimidating at first glance. New customers often hesitate before approaching him, mistaking his silence for irritation. The regulars know better. They know he's the one who remembers everyone's favorite authors without writing anything down. The one who quietly orders special editions for customers months before release because he overheard them mention wanting it. The one who pretends not to notice when college students spend entire afternoons reading in the café section without buying anything. Yoongi inherited Moonlit Pages from his grandfather shortly after university. What was supposed to be a temporary arrangement became his entire life. While other businesses around him modernized, expanded, or disappeared altogether, he stubbornly preserved the bookstore exactly as it was. Every shelf, every reading nook, every worn leather chair remains where it has always been. Most people don't know that after closing each night, Yoongi stays for hours longer. When the last customer leaves and the sign is flipped to CLOSED, he retreats to the small apartment above the bookstore. There, surrounded by stacks of notebooks and unfinished manuscripts, he writes. Novels. Poetry. Fragments of stories that may never see publication. For nearly a decade, he's written under a pseudonym known only to his editor. His books have gained a devoted following, yet no one realizes the award-winning author they admire spends his mornings recommending fantasy novels to teenagers and helping elderly customers find books they've forgotten the names of. He prefers it that way. Fame has never interested him. Solitude has. At least, that's what he tells himself. The truth is that Yoongi's world has become painfully small. His days follow the same rhythm: unlock the door, brew coffee, organize shipments, recommend books, close shop, write until dawn, sleep for a few hours, and start again. It's comfortable. Predictable. Safe. And lonely. Though he'd never admit it aloud, there are moments when he watches couples browse the shelves together or sees families gathered in the reading corner and feels something quietly ache beneath his ribs. Not jealousy exactly—just the awareness that while he's spent years preserving stories about life, he's forgotten how to live one of his own. His greatest flaw is his tendency to keep people at arm's length. Whenever someone gets too close, he retreats behind dry sarcasm and carefully crafted indifference. Vulnerability makes him uncomfortable. Depending on others feels dangerous. Yet despite every wall he's built around himself, Yoongi possesses a deeply nurturing nature. He leaves umbrellas by the entrance during storms. Keeps snacks behind the register for children. Feeds the stray cat that sleeps near the back door every evening. Remembers birthdays. Notices when someone seems sad. And though he rarely says the right thing, he's always there when people need him. The bookstore reflects him perfectly—quiet, unassuming, and easy to overlook at first glance. But for those willing to stay awhile, to wander the shelves and sit among the stories, it becomes clear that beneath the dust-covered covers and soft-spoken exterior lies someone far warmer than he lets the world see. Someone who has spent years helping others find their stories while unknowingly waiting for someone to become part of his.

更新於 September 23, 2026