It had been two years since Jae-Min had left his old life behind, and with those years came changes that were impossible to ignore. His body, once soft and indulgent, had transformed into something leaner, sharper. It was the result of endless hours spent pushing himself in the gym, the constant diet of discipline and restriction, the rigorous routine that had become as much a part of him as his breathing. There was no room for laziness in this new version of himself. Every meal was calculated, every movement deliberate, and every pound he shed was a testament to his unwavering will to reshape himself—not just physically, but emotionally.

Standing in front of the mirror now, Jae-Min ran a hand over the chiseled ridges of his abdominal muscles, the sculpted V-shaped torso that had replaced the softness of his past. He had done what he had sworn to himself he would—he would never look like that again. He had driven himself to the point of exhaustion to ensure that he didn’t. The past was a shadow that he couldn’t outrun, but at least in the present, he had control over his body, his form.

But there was no satisfaction in it. No joy.

He had pushed himself beyond the point of comfort, beyond the point where most people would have stopped, and yet, the result was only a harsh reminder of what he had lost. His reflection stared back at him, a stranger who looked nothing like the boy who had once walked through life with arrogance and entitlement. The man in the mirror was cold, detached, and filled with a quiet intensity that both terrified and fascinated him. His muscles were carved, his posture was perfect, but his eyes—his eyes were empty.

He was no longer the pampered chaebol heir who had lived for instant gratification. He was something else entirely. Something... better, he thought. But as he continued to gaze at his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel the pang of doubt. There had been no one to witness the transformation—no one who would see the hours spent sweating in the gym, the countless days of fasting, the brutal routines that had stripped away the weight of his past. No one to see the sacrifice he had made to become this version of himself. And maybe that was what hurt the most.

The only thing that truly mattered in those moments was the one person who would never see him like this. The one person he could never show this new self to.

Her.

The memory of his ex-fiancé, her face twisted in disdain as she had broken off their engagement, still haunted him. She had been the one to push him into this spiral of self-loathing. It had been her words—her rejection—that had burned away his arrogance and pride. “You’re disgusting,” she had told him, her voice laced with contempt. “You don’t deserve anything. You’re a joke.”

That moment had felt like a knife to the heart, and yet, it had also been the catalyst for everything that had followed. Her rejection was the reason he had pushed himself to the point of physical and mental collapse. She had been the reason he had decided to prove that he could be more, that he could be someone who mattered.

But she was gone.

And now, even as his body was a perfect representation of all he had worked for, it felt empty. There was no one to appreciate it. No one to see the struggle, the pain, the determination. There was no joy in seeing himself like this, because he had made these changes for her—only to be met with her hatred. The cold, detached figure in the mirror was a symbol of everything he could never have. The validation he so desperately sought was never going to come. No matter how many pounds he lost, no matter how perfectly sculpted his body became, it would never be enough to fill the void that she had left behind.

The mirror seemed to mock him now. It wasn’t just his body he had reshaped; it was his entire life. His entire identity had been forged from the fires of rejection, of pain, of shame. And yet, the reflection staring back at him was not a victorious one. It was a broken man, filled with the kind of pain that no amount of physical transformation could ever erase.

He turned away from the mirror, his body still drenched in sweat from the workout. The gym had become a sanctuary for him, a place where he could push himself to the brink, a place where he could silence the doubts, the questions, the fears that had followed him ever since he had left his family behind. But even here, there was no escape from the truth.

The truth was that no matter how much he changed, no matter how perfect his body became, the past would always follow him. The memories of his ex-fiancé’s words would always echo in his mind, haunting him with the knowledge that he had been rejected by the one person who had once meant everything to him. And no matter how hard he worked, how far he ran, he would never be able to escape the ghost of the love he had lost.

Jae-Min ran a hand through his sweat-drenched hair, closing his eyes for a moment as the weight of it all settled on his shoulders. The body he had created, the life he had built—all of it was a lie. He had done it to escape the boy he once was, to escape the shame of being rejected, of being discarded. But in the end, the one thing he wanted the most—the one thing he couldn’t have—was the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

Her.

And so, he would keep working, keep pushing, keep transforming. Because there was nothing else. There was no going back, no way to undo the past. The body he had built, the life he had carved out for himself, were all just masks to hide the truth from himself. The truth that he was still that same broken boy, still chasing something he could never reach.

And in the silence of his apartment, the ache in his chest grew louder, louder than the sound of the weights hitting the floor, louder than the constant rush of numbers in his head. The ache that no amount of change, no amount of success, could ever fill.