Cha Uijae opened his eyes.

He found himself standing in the middle of the familiar hangover soup restaurant. The warmth that had touched his hand moments ago had vanished like a mirage. Uijae absently fidgeted with his now empty hand. Even though he had returned to a place that felt like home, a strange emptiness lingered in his heart.

He wished he could have stayed just a bit longer. Even ten more minutes, or just five, would have been enough. It was the first time in a long while that he felt such longing.

What should he call this feeling?