If Only Spring Would Come.

Eight Days Ago

Ding dong. Ding dong ding dong.

The relentless doorbell ringing pulled Jun-young from his slumber.

“Ugh… who’s ringing the bell this early?” he muttered, rubbing his groggy eyes.

Reluctantly, he cracked his sleep-deprived eyes open and glanced at the clock. It was 10:30 AM—not exactly early, but certainly not a time he expected visitors.

With a stiff neck and groggy steps, he shuffled toward the front door, muttering complaints under his breath.

“Who is it?” he called out, flattening his disheveled hair with one hand.

A deep, refined voice answered from the other side.

“Quick delivery service.”

Quick delivery? That’s strange.

Jun-young opened the door, his confusion evident.

“Are you Cha Jun-young?”

“Yes…?”

Standing before him wasn’t the usual delivery driver but a sharply dressed middle-aged gentleman. His neatly groomed mustache and tailored vintage suit gave him an air of sophistication, completely out of place for a courier.

What kind of quick delivery looks like this?

Before Jun-young could say anything, the man handed him a small box.

“Here you go.”

“Oh, uh… thanks. Who sent it?”

The box bore no sender information, adding to the mystery.

“I don’t know. I was only told to deliver it. There’s a card inside that should explain everything.”

“Oh… okay.”

With a polite nod, the man disappeared as swiftly as he’d arrived.

Jun-young shut the door and returned to his couch, the mysterious package in hand.

“What is this?”

Unable to contain his curiosity, he opened the box. Inside, he found a letter and what appeared to be a Polaroid camera.

“A camera?”

Setting the camera aside, he unfolded the neatly folded letter. The writing was clean and formal, but the contents were anything but ordinary.

**”This is a camera that captures the future.

If you’re curious about someone’s future, take their photo.

However, there is only one sheet of film, so think carefully before using it.

Do not waste this rare opportunity on disbelief or recklessness.

Remember, you have just one shot.

And yes, Cha Jun-young, this camera was sent specifically to you. Please don’t doubt its authenticity.

Make meaningful use of it.

P.S. Autumn and spring feel shorter every year. Winter will be here before you know it.”**

“Ha!”

Jun-young let out a dry laugh, incredulous. A camera that captures the future? Who writes this stuff?

He picked up the camera and inspected it, turning it over in his hands. It looked like an ordinary Polaroid camera—nothing special.

“So, you’re supposed to show me the future?” he muttered, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

It sounded like something out of a cheap sci-fi movie. He scoffed and read the letter again.

“Who would send this?”

The letter’s personal tone unsettled him. The fact that it was addressed specifically to him wasn’t something he could easily ignore.

The final line was especially odd. What’s with the comment about autumn and winter? Are they trying to remind me to dress warmly?

Scratching his head in frustration, he stared at the camera and letter, unable to make sense of the situation. It felt like an elaborate prank, but the sheer effort behind it left him feeling uneasy.

Reluctantly, he turned on the camera. A small display next to the viewfinder lit up, showing a bold 1.

“Wait, one? There’s really only one shot?”

Curiosity piqued, he inspected the camera more closely. To his surprise, there was no visible way to load or replace film. The slot where the photo would eject was there, but there were no compartments for film or even batteries.

“What the hell…”

It didn’t make sense. Was this some kind of high-tech gadget? Or maybe just a toy?

“Well, let’s find out.”

Jun-young raised the camera and pointed it at himself, arm outstretched. Just as he was about to press the shutter, his hand hesitated.

His finger hovered over the button, and he felt an inexplicable tension. Only one shot, the letter had said.

“What if it’s real?”

The thought crept into his mind unbidden. He shook his head at the absurdity of it. No way. That’s impossible.

But the weight of the letter’s words and the glaring 1 on the display made him pause. What if this wasn’t just a prank? What if this camera could really show the future? Was he ready to see it?

“Ugh, this is ridiculous,” he muttered, lowering the camera.

Whoever had sent this had thought it through, leaving him caught between skepticism and curiosity.

“Argh, forget it!”

Frustrated, he tossed the camera onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair.

Whoever you are, you win. I’m officially intrigued.

Jun-young sighed deeply, his face buried in the steering wheel of his car.

“Ha…”

Even he couldn’t believe what he was doing. Parked in front of Bom’s house, waiting like this, he felt utterly ridiculous. Any minute now, Bom would walk out, and when she did, he planned to use that strange camera to take her picture.

Of course, it would likely just produce a snapshot of her now, proving nothing and making him feel even more foolish. But he couldn’t stop himself. The thought of the camera’s one and only film had pulled him here like a chain around his ankle.

The night before, as he lay in bed, he’d thought long and hard about the camera. If it truly captured the future, whose future would he choose to see?

Naturally, his first thought had been himself. After all, isn’t it human nature to wonder about one’s own future?

But the more he thought about it, the less appealing the idea became. What if it revealed something terrible? The possibility terrified him. And even if it wasn’t bad, knowing what lay ahead would ruin the mystery. Like a movie spoiled by its ending, life itself would feel diminished.

So he ruled himself out.

And that left only one person: Bom.

Even though it had been a year since their breakup, she still occupied a corner of his heart. He wanted to know about her life without him. Was she happy? She deserved to be.

Bom had been his everything throughout his twenties: a friend, a confidante, and his long-time girlfriend. Their breakup had been his fault—he’d hurt her deeply. And when she asked to end things, he hadn’t fought to stop her.

If I see her happy without me, maybe I can finally let go of this guilt, he thought.

He wanted closure, a way to free himself from the weight of their past. Maybe this was his chance to truly say goodbye.

With his mind made up, the next problem was how to take her picture. He couldn’t just show up out of the blue after a year and ask to photograph her. That would be absurd. He’d have to be subtle.

And so here he was, parked in her neighborhood at the time she usually left for work. Her house seemed like the best place to catch her off guard—better than the academy, where taking a photo would be far more conspicuous. He could only hope she still lived here. If not, he’d have to figure out another plan.

Jun-young glanced at his watch. The time was drawing near.

She won’t notice, right? he reassured himself. His car was a common model, and he’d parked far enough away to avoid standing out.

Still, his heart began to pound at the thought of seeing her for the first time in a year.

How have you changed, Bom?

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he lifted his head and looked around. The neighborhood was as familiar as his own. He’d spent so much time here that every detail was etched in his memory. Now, he waited for Bom to reappear in this familiar setting.

Reaching for the camera on the passenger seat, he turned it on. The small display lit up with a bold 1, reminding him of the single chance he had. He pointed the lens toward the path she’d take, fixing his gaze on the spot where she’d appear.

Stay focused. The moment will be quick.

Each second stretched longer than the last, his anticipation tightening like a coil.

And then, finally, she appeared.

“…!”

There she was.

Bom.

For a moment, Jun-young froze, his breath catching. She was as vibrant as ever, her stride confident, but there was something different about her—something he couldn’t put into words.

This is it.

He raised the camera, his hands trembling slightly, and pressed the shutter.

Jun-young recognized her instantly, even from a distance. The petite frame, the energetic stride, the long black hair swaying gently below her shoulders, and the familiar eco-bag she always carried—it was unmistakably Bom. She hadn’t changed much, except for looking a little slimmer. Still beautiful, still radiating that vibrant energy that seemed to light up everything around her.

“Hm…”

Jun-young let out a shallow sigh. This wasn’t the time to get lost in nostalgia.

He wanted to take in her face, to memorize every detail he hadn’t seen in so long. But there wasn’t time. Any moment now, she would round the corner, leaving only her retreating back in view.

Quickly, he raised the camera and framed her in the viewfinder. Zooming in, her face came into sharp focus.

Click!

Without hesitation, he pressed the shutter. Now all he could do was wait and see what kind of photo the camera would produce.

As the faint whirring sound of the photo developing filled the car, Bom turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

That was it. There was no reason for him to stay any longer. Yet, his eyes remained fixed on the spot where she’d been.

Live well, Choi Bom. You look healthy—that’s a relief. Thank you… and I’m sorry.

The words played silently in his mind, an unspoken farewell.

A soft click from the camera brought him back to the present. The photo had fully ejected.

Glancing down at the camera, he noticed the number 1 on the display had changed to 0. So it was true—there really had been only one shot.

As he held the fresh, white photo in his hand, the camera let out a long, high-pitched beep before powering off entirely.

“What the… Did it just die?”

Frowning, Jun-young pressed the power button, but the camera refused to turn on. With no visible battery compartment or charging port, it seemed to have rendered itself completely useless.

“Hmph…”

Shrugging, he tossed the now-defunct camera onto the passenger seat and turned his attention to the photo.

The blank surface began to fill with color. Soon, the image of Bom, just as she’d been moments ago, would develop.

Or so he thought.

“…What? What is this?!”

Jun-young’s hand began to tremble as the picture became clearer. His face paled. Even at a glance, it was obvious—this wasn’t the image he had just taken.

It wasn’t Bom walking down the street.

This… this wasn’t the Bom he had seen.

Is this camera really showing the future?

“No… That’s impossible. No way…” he whispered, his voice shaky. “Bom, why… why are you…”

His entire body trembled as he stared at the horrifying photo. This wasn’t why he had come. He hadn’t used this camera to see something like this. He’d wanted to see Bom happy, thriving, proof that she was better off without him.

Instead, what he held was an image he could barely comprehend.

The photo had fully developed now, disturbingly sharp and vivid—far more detailed than any ordinary Polaroid. And it was unbearable to look at.

Because in the photo, Bom was hanging by her neck.

Dead.

Motionless.

Jun-young’s breath caught, his vision blurring as panic overtook him. This wasn’t the closure he’d sought.

“What… what is this…?” he whispered, barely audible.

Tears welled in his eyes as he gripped the photo tightly, his mind spinning.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Bom… this isn’t your future. It can’t be.