Lee Han-jae's POV
Aged 27
They said time dulls obsession.
That distance and silence can sever whatever red string once tied two people together.
But they were wrong.
Eight years passed. I changed cities, companies, currencies.
I built empires on the ashes of everything I once wanted.
And still—
His name ruins me.
Kim Beom-soo.
I heard it today, casually, in a project briefing. His name listed at the bottom of a shared document, in a company that barely survived quarterly reviews.
A contract worker. One of hundreds. Nothing.
But when I saw the three syllables typed out in that bland, gray font, my hand froze.
It shouldn't have meant anything.
It should've been erased like everything else.
But it wasn't.
It's been years since I touched him. Since I saw his eyes flick away from mine like I never existed. Since he let someone else reach for him the night I walked away.
I told myself I'd forgotten him.
And yet, tonight, when I close my eyes, I see him again.
In that stupid, worn-out school uniform.
Eyes too quiet. Lips too careful.
He never said my name first.
But he will.
This time, I'll make sure he does.
Even if I have to ruin him to hear it.