I get inside the café where the girl’s enjoying her afternoon herbal tea and look around for anything that can indicates a date and time for me— I completely lost the track of time. I glance at the newspaper on a couple’s table and figure out for the first time that the grim reaper had taken me 8 months back before D-day. Today’s April 17th 2015, so I have exactly 241 days to save my fiancé.

I order a coffee and glance around to seek any kind of way to start a conversation with the very girl. For all I know, I have to do my mission as quick as possible so I can see HyeMi soon and bring her the organ she needs.

This is my lucky day, the café is crowded enough so I have a change to ask her if I can seat with her. I bring my coffee along with me and approach the girl while she’s busy checking pictures from her camera screen, as I get closer I start to notice her presence. She ties her black hair in a simple pony tail, her jacket hangs in the seat in front of her along with her backpack. I assume she’s a tomboy for her style. She looks comfortable in her pink all-stars, jeans and white t-shirt.

“Pardon, mademoiselle,” there goes my limited French, “is this seat taken?”

She lifts her face to see me. She has dark brown eyes that shine brightly, I notice she’s not a local from the shape of her face. “Non” she takes her stuff from the chair in front of her and allows me to seat with her.

“Sorry, I cannot find another seat.” I bow at her a little before I take my seat.

“It’s okay, this café’s popular with locals.”

“Ah, I see you speak English. I’ve came across a lot of French that refused to speak anything but their language.” I try to open up a conversation with her.

“Yes, I do. They love their language too much, don’t you think? But the language is very beautiful, if I were French I would do the same.” She takes her mug and sips her herbal tea.

“Where do you come from?”

“Why do you ask?” she lift one of her eyebrow.

“You don’t look like local, you look… hmm.. Asian.” I give it a guess.

“So do you, monsieur…?”

“Ok. Ok TaecYeon.” I introduce myself.

“You’re Korean?” she replies in my mother language.

“You too?”

She nods excitingly. “Park HyeRin imnida.” She bows a bit while introducing her name. “Whoa, I’m so excited, it’s been a while since I meet any Korean here. You know most of the tourists go to Paris, or Nice, or Saint Tropez, nobody visits Lyon so much. Why are you here?” she puts down