[Run-Seo]
Run-Seo didn't go to work.
She knew that the moment she opened her eyes.
The thought appeared before anything else.
Before breakfast.
Before checking her phone.
Before getting out of bed.
She wasn't going.
The café could survive one day without her.
She picked up her phone.
Typed a message.
Not feeling well today. Sorry. I don't think I can come in.
Several seconds later—
Min-Ji replied.
Rest well.
No questions.
No suspicion.
No interrogation.
Just concern.
The guilt lasted all of ten seconds.
Then disappeared.
Because she wasn't sick.
At least—
not in the way she'd claimed.
She sat on the edge of her bed.
Staring at the floor.
Thinking.
Again.
Always thinking.
Ever since Jae-Won appeared—
thinking had become exhausting.
The messages.
The photos.
The questions.
The stories.
The video.
Everything.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
Run-Seo stared.
Then answered.
"Hello?"
A man's voice responded.
Calm.
Professional.
Polite.
"Miss Ji?"
She immediately frowned.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Han Seung-Min."
A pause.
Then:
"I work with Jae-Won."
Run-Seo's expression hardened.
"What do you want?"
"To talk."
"I don't."
"I think you do."
The answer annoyed her instantly.
"Excuse me?"
A pause.
Then:
"If you didn't want answers, you would've blocked us days ago."
Silence.
Because annoyingly—
he wasn't wrong.
"There's a café near Gwangjin Park."
Run-Seo frowned.
"I'm not meeting you."
"Then don't."
His voice remained calm.
"But if you're curious about Kei..."
A pause.
"...I'll be there at one."
The call ended.
Just like that.
Leaving Run-Seo staring at her phone.
Annoyed.
Suspicious.
And unfortunately—
curious.
☆ ☆ ☆
At 12:58 p.m., she arrived.
Which irritated her.
Because it meant he'd been right.
The café was small.
Quiet.
Mostly empty.
The sort of place people chose when they didn't want to be overheard.
A man stood when she entered.
Late thirties.
Well-dressed.
Sharp eyes.
The type of person who looked like he noticed everything.
"Good afternoon, Miss Ji."
She sat down.
Immediately defensive.
"Make this quick."
Mr. Han smiled.
Not mockingly.
Just knowingly.
"You came."
"I almost didn't."
"But you did."
Run-Seo resisted the urge to throw something at him.
Barely.
A waitress brought drinks.
Neither touched them.
Mr. Han folded his hands.
"Jae-Won talks about you."
That caught her off guard.
"What?"
"He thinks you're stubborn."
"That's rude."
"He also thinks you're loyal."
Run-Seo looked away.
Because somehow—
that was worse.
Mr. Han continued.
"You've been trying to understand what's happening."
No response.
"You've been reading every message."
Still nothing.
"You've been thinking about Kei."
Silence.
Mr. Han sighed.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Run-Seo hated this conversation.
More specifically—
she hated that he was right.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
The question hung between them.
Mr. Han looked out the window.
Then back at her.
"Help."
Run-Seo scoffed.
"That's funny."
"You don't believe me."
"No."
"Fair."
The answer came too easily.
Like he'd expected it.
Which probably meant he had.
Mr. Han leaned back slightly.
"Let's make a deal."
Run-Seo raised an eyebrow.
"A deal?"
Mr. Han nodded.
"We'll give you money."
She stared at him.
Then laughed once.
A short, disbelieving sound.
"For what? "
"To work with us. "
"I don't need money."
A faint smile appeared on Mr. Han's face.
"You're right."
He folded his hands on the table.
"You don't."
Run-Seo frowned.
For a moment—
he simply studied her.
As though he already knew the answer.
Then quietly said:
"You need something else."
The smile on his face widened slightly.
"Something money can't buy."
Run-Seo's stomach tightened.
Because suddenly—
she wasn't sure she wanted to hear where this was going.
Mr. Han tilted his head.
"You need love."
Silence.
Run-Seo immediately looked away.
Annoyance flared in her chest.
Along with something far more uncomfortable.
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
His voice remained calm.
Steady.
Certain.
"You could have asked for money years ago."
A pause.
"You could have asked for opportunities."
Another pause.
"You could have asked for attention."
His gaze never left hers.
"But none of those things are why you're here."
Run-Seo clenched her jaw.
Because she hated how accurate that sounded.
"Tell me something."
Run-Seo immediately regretted staying.
"Do you still love him?"
The question hit like a truck.
Direct.
Brutal.
No warning.
No preparation.
Just impact.
Run-Seo froze.
Mr. Han didn't look away.
Didn't apologize.
Didn't rephrase it.
He simply waited.
And somehow—
that made it worse.
Because she couldn't answer.
Not honestly.
Not without sounding pathetic.
Eventually—
she looked away.
That was answer enough.
Mr. Han nodded slowly.
"I thought so."
Embarrassment burned through her chest.
Followed by irritation.
Then anger.
Because she hated being understood.
Especially by strangers.
"What's your point?"
His expression softened slightly.
"My point is that things aren't over."
Run-Seo blinked.
"What?"
"People assume life is simple."
He paused.
"They assume one breakup means forever."
Silence.
"One mistake means forever."
Another pause.
"One bad decision means forever."
Run-Seo stared.
Because she knew exactly where this was going.
And she hated that she wanted to hear more.
Mr. Han continued.
"Do you know why Jae-Won came back?"
"No."
"Because he got tired of watching people run."
The answer surprised her.
Genuinely.
Mr. Han's gaze lowered briefly.
"Kei has spent years pretending the past never happened."
Silence.
"That doesn't make it disappear."
Run-Seo looked down at her coffee.
Untouched.
Cooling.
"What happened?"
Mr. Han smiled faintly.
"That's not my story to tell."
Frustration surged immediately.
"Then why am I here?"
His eyes met hers.
And for the first time—
his expression became serious.
Completely serious.
"Because you still matter."
Run-Seo froze.
Immediately.
"What?"
"You think you're irrelevant."
His voice remained calm.
"But you're not."
A pause.
"You know Kei."
Silence.
"You understand him."
Silence.
"You always did."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Because part of her wanted to hear them.
The worst part.
The weakest part.
The part she'd been trying to ignore.
Mr. Han leaned forward slightly.
"If Kei finally stops running..."
A pause.
"If he finally confronts everything..."
Another pause.
"Then who knows what happens next?"
Run-Seo's heartbeat quickened.
Against her will.
Against her better judgment.
Against everything she knew.
Mr. Han continued.
"People reconnect."
Silence.
"They forgive."
Silence.
"They change."
Then quietly—
"They get second chances."
Run-Seo immediately looked away.
Because she couldn't look at him.
Not while he was saying things she desperately wanted to believe.
Not while he was giving hope to feelings she'd spent years trying to bury.
And somehow—
that made it work.
☆ ☆ ☆
The conversation ended nearly two hours later.
When Run-Seo finally left—
the sky had already begun turning orange.
The city felt quieter.
Colder.
Or maybe that was just her.
The words followed her home.
Second chance.
Reconnect.
Still matters.
Over and over.
Again.
And again.
And again.
☆ ☆ ☆
Her apartment was silent.
The kind of silence that made thoughts louder.
Run-Seo dropped her bag.
Sat on the couch.
And stared at nothing.
For a long time.
Then—
her phone vibrated.
A message.
Jae-Won.
No words.
No explanation.
Just a file.
The video.
The same one.
Kei.
No-Ah.
The café.
The smiles.
The comfortable conversation.
The way Kei looked at her.
Run-Seo pressed play.
Once.
Then again.
Then again.
The apartment slowly darkened around her.
But she barely noticed.
Because she recognized that look.
The expression on Kei's face.
The ease.
The comfort.
The warmth.
Years ago—
he used to look at her like that.
And now—
he didn't.
The realization hurt.
Far more than she wanted to admit.
The video ended.
Silence returned.
Then Mr. Han's words echoed again.
People reconnect.
People change.
People get second chances.
Run-Seo closed her eyes.
For a moment—
she imagined it.
Kei calling.
Kei explaining.
Kei looking at her again.
The same way he used to.
The same way he looked at No-Ah.
The thought should have sounded ridiculous.
Instead—
it sounded possible.
Just possible enough to be dangerous.
Her eyes opened.
The upload button sat on the screen.
Waiting.
One click away.
A terrible idea.
An awful one.
The kind people regretted.
The kind people couldn't take back.
Run-Seo stared at it.
For a long time.
Long enough to stop.
Long enough to think.
Long enough to walk away.
Instead—
she pressed it.
The loading bar appeared.
Slowly moving.
Five percent.
Twenty.
Fifty.
Eighty.
One hundred.
Complete.
The post went live.
Run-Seo froze.
Reality arrived immediately.
Not tomorrow.
Not later.
Now.
Because the video was no longer hers.
It belonged to the internet.
Comments began appearing.
Views started climbing.
Shares followed.
The numbers kept rising.
And suddenly—
for the first time all day—
fear crept into her chest.
Because whatever happened next—
she couldn't control it anymore.
And somewhere in the city—
someone was about to see the video.
The only question was—
would it be Kei.
No-Ah.
Or Jae-Won first?
☆ ☆ ☆