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The cold night air ruffled Sunghoon's hair, but the chill that seeped into his bones had nothing to do with the weather—it was the absence of Iseul, the gnawing, unbearable emptiness she left behind.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before stepping into the restaurant, needing a moment of peace, a moment to breathe.

He took a slow sip of water, letting the cool liquid settle the fire burning in his chest.

Then—clapping. Slow. Sarcastic.

His jaw tightened as he turned toward the sound, only to find Sungchan standing there, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes as he continued to applaud.

"Great plan, Park Sunghoon." Sungchan's voice dripped with mockery, his smirk sharp enough to cut. "My Uber was suddenly changed, then the car's motor just so happened to break down. And—oh! What a coincidence! Someone mysteriously took my seat on the plane." He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. "Almost as if someone didn't want me to leave."

Sunghoon remained seated, rolling the glass between his fingers before setting it down with a soft clink. He met Sungchan's stare with unshaken indifference.

"Why'd you come back?" His voice was low, unreadable. "If it's about the Daejeon affairs, I've already handed it over to Mr. Jihoon."

Sungchan let out a humorless chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Oh, I know how you convinced the board directors." His eyes darkened. "I expected anything from you, Sunghoon. But this?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Even for you, this is low."

"Did you think I'd close my eyes while you lead my company to ruins?" Sunghoon's voice was sharp, unwavering.

Sungchan scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "So this is about business? You're throwing a tantrum because of this?"

"Tantrum?" Sunghoon let out a dry, humorless laugh, his jaw clenching. "I don't play games, Sungchan. If anything, you're the player here."

Sungchan had enough. He turned sharply, his voice dripping with mockery. "So, tell me, did Iseul enjoy your romantic dinner?"

The moment those words left his mouth, Sunghoon stilled. A flicker of something dark crossed his face—something raw and painful suffocating him.

His grip tightened at his sides, and he exhaled slowly. "Iseul is none of your concern."

Sungchan scoffed. "She is! And you—don't forget you're engaged to my sister."

Sunghoon's eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. "I haven't forgotten, Sungchan."

That only seemed to enrage Sungchan further. He stepped forward, clutching the lapels of Sunghoon's suit, pulling him closer as he hissed, "Then in that case, stay the hell away from Iseul."

Sunghoon glanced down at his rumpled suit and muttered, "Not my mint condition suit..."

With barely any effort, he shoved Sungchan off, and due to the sheer strength difference, Sungchan went stumbling back—dramatically, almost theatrically—until he crashed onto the floor. A plate toppled off the table beside him, shattering on impact, and a shard grazed his forehead, leaving a thin line of blood trailing down his brow

Standing up Sungchan had enough as he threw his fist to Sunghoon's face, splitting his lip. The impact sent a shockwave through the silence, a crack in the night that echoed louder than words ever could. Sunghoon stumbled back, his jaw clenched, tasting the metallic sting of blood

Sungchan was fuming, his chest heaving with anger, ready to strike again.

But then—

"Sunghoon!"

Her voice rang through the chaos like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a wildfire. She had been looking for her phone, unaware of the war waging, only to stumble upon this—the two men locked in a brutal confrontation, their eyes dark with something far beyond hatred.

"What the hell are you two doing?!" Iseul shouted, rushing between them, her small frame the only barrier preventing them from tearing each other apart.

Sungchan exhaled sharply, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. Iseul turned to him, concern washing over her delicate features as she gently guided him to sit on the steps.

"Are you okay? We should take care of this," she murmured, her fingers ghosting over his wound.

Sunghoon watched everything unfold, his heart sinking lower than he thought possible. Her touch, her care—it wasn't for him. It was for Sungchan. The sight of it burned more than his busted lip ever could.

With the back of his hand, he wiped away the blood from his mouth, his face unreadable. But his heart? It was screaming.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, the weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders.

Iseul glanced up, her breath hitching as she watched him retreat into the shadows. There was something devastating about the way he walked—shoulders stiff, fists clenched, as if he were holding himself together by sheer will.

And yet, she did nothing to stop him.

She let him go.

And maybe, just maybe, that was what hurt the most.

Sunghoon sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped together as he tried to steady his breathing. His thoughts were a chaotic storm—anger, frustration, desperation. He had spent years mastering the art of control, of calculated moves and cold logic, but now, everything was slipping through his fingers.

A sharp knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. His jaw clenched as he stood up, expecting Sungchan or, worse, Rena. He yanked the door open, irritation flickering in his eyes—until he saw her.

Iseul.

His breath hitched.

She stood there, her lips slightly pouted, her cheeks dusted with the faintest pink. In her hands, she held a small box of bandages, raising them just enough to shield part of her face, as if hiding the embarrassment pooling in her eyes.

"For your cut," she murmured, her voice soft yet firm.

Sunghoon blinked, momentarily thrown off. He nodded—too quickly, too eagerly—before stepping aside to let her in. His chest tightened as she brushed past him, her scent wrapping around him like a cruel reminder of everything he was about to lose.

"Sit down," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He frowned. "Iseul—"

"Sit."

He obeyed.

She knelt before him, her fingers delicately reaching for his injured face. Sunghoon watched her, completely entranced.

The way her brows furrowed in concentration, the way her lips pressed together in thought—it was all painfully familiar, yet unbearably distant.

His eyes traced every detail of her face, memorizing her like a man starved. He had spent so long pretending he didn't care, convincing himself that he had won their twisted game.

Iseul dipped her fingers into the ointment, the cool salve pressing against Sunghoon's skin as she tilted his chin up, holding him steady. Her touch was light, but it sent an undeniable shiver through him.

Sunghoon's breath hitched, his pulse hammering as her fingers glided over the bruise. He should've been focused on the sting, but all he could feel was her.

His eyes softened, locking onto hers. The warmth in his gaze, the way his lips parted slightly—he looked at her as if she were something fragile, something precious. And for a second, Iseul forgot herself.

She forgot the months of pain, the walls she had so carefully built.

She just looked back.

Her fingers lingered against his jaw, her thumb unconsciously tracing over his skin, and she felt it—his pulse, wild beneath her touch.

Realization hit her like a cold gust of wind.

Her breath hitched as she pulled her hand away, breaking the moment like shattering glass.

She stood abruptly, smoothing down her dress as if that could fix the unease curling in her stomach. "That's enough ointment." Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she needed to ground herself—to remind herself.

Iseul was about to leave.

Then she heard him.

"Iseul."

Her steps faltered. She turned slowly, her expression unreadable.

Sunghoon stood tall, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his resolve. He took a step forward, then another, his gaze burning into hers with an intensity that made her pulse stutter.

"Once we get back to Seoul, I'm ending this engagement." His voice was steady, unwavering. "I'm going to talk to Rena. Will you wait for me?"

Iseul's fingers curled into fists at her sides, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. She searched his face—his desperate eyes, the subtle tremor in his hands as if he feared she would vanish before him. And maybe she would.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, with a slight shake of her head, Iseul turned away.

Sunghoon watched as she walked toward the door, her figure illuminated by the soft glow of the room light. His heart pounded violently, every fiber of his being screaming for her to stop, to turn back, to say anything. But she didn't.

She stepped outside without a word, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, his breath shaky, his hands clenched at his sides. The ache in his chest was unbearable, the kind that settled deep in his bones. He had always thought he had time. He had always thought that no matter how much they hurt each other, they would find their way back.

But tonight, for the first time, he wondered if he had already lost her.

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