The flight had landed after thirteen hours of continuous air travel. Thirteen hours that had felt simultaneously like minutes and like years. Thirteen hours of enclosed space, of recirculated air, of being suspended between two countries, two worlds, two versions of reality.

The journey from Korea to Italy had consumed most of the day, a long stretch of sky and clouds and the steady hum of the private jet's engines. The monotonous vibration had become almost meditative, a constant reminder of movement, of progress, of no return.