In an attempt to escape the limitations of life, where the only door he can walk to and turn is a job at a company, a young man who just graduated from college suddenly boards a plane to the Czech Republic.
He practically gave up on finding a job and stayed at Simply Hostel, the cheapest hostel in Prague.
There he encounters a world he had previously thought impossible.

David, an Armenian who protects him and calls him brother.
Mario Pinola, an Argentine tango singer struggling with the life of an artist.
Lidia, a Russian woman who shares her honest opinions about her homeland, and Andrei, a Moldovan man who shows friendship despite their language barrier.
He witnesses new possibilities as he interacts with people from different parts of the world.

In Prague, Europe, where the bohemian life is tolerated, he reflects on the door of life he can open, and tries to open that door when he returns to Korea… … This is a travelogue that goes beyond a simple sentimental essay, but rather an existential process of creating one’s own form of life through travel.

As the sun hung low on the horizon, we packed our bags and headed back to Simply for dinner.
Even 16th-century buildings were bathed in diagonal vermilion sunlight. (…)
The sky was completely pink at that time after dinner.
Between the pink clouds and the reflecting Vltava River, I took in the sights of black-haired kids skateboarding, Czech-style apartment buildings on the outskirts of the city, their neighborhood parks, university buildings with ceilings that threatened to collapse, young people sitting comfortably on their legs on the riverbank, floating restaurants, and the bronze angels guarding the Czech Bridge.
--- p.15

“And actually, the reason I came to Prague was to play on the streets.
(…) I consoled myself.
Mario, it's okay, Mario, you've been practicing a lot too.
You can do it, have courage.
I strummed the guitar a few times and took a deep breath.
I just can't seem to get it started.
Mario, you flew all the way to Prague to do this.
Take courage.
There were so many tourists around.
I stood there for a long time.
But in the end I couldn't do it and came down.
It's a day I came back after putting away my guitar.
“I’ll try again tomorrow.”
I asked him what kind of Argentine tango he was doing.
--- p.40

The high roof, which stretches out like an X to God in the distance, captivates those who come here with the aesthetics of each cubic meter, showing how vast and expansive this space is and how much of God's breath and glory is contained within it. I thought that this quality of continuity was an important element of the fascination.
Just as the moment when I realized that a hand from an unknown being that I had not yet realized was reaching out to me became an opportunity for enlightenment, the continuous connection of stones from that faraway place to here in this material way evoked a fantastic sense of admiration.
(Similarly, in literature, when I see a writer from a hundred years ago accurately expressing the same worries, emptiness, and deprivation I have today, I am often amazed by the superconductive connection between space and time.)
--- p.86

The plane managed to land me safely in Korea, and at the pristine white and spacious Incheon Airport, I felt like I was back in Korea.
I went back home.
Now all that remained was the pain of not being able to apply what I had learned in Prague to Korea.
The time when I realized that they were right and I was wrong.
It was a concrete moment when I realized that the vain illusion was on my side.

--- p.136