Jaemin stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his black tuxedo. His reflection looked nothing like the man he once was—there was no trace of the softness, the laziness, or the shame that had once plagued him. Gone were the days of indulgence, of escaping into alcohol and fleeting distractions. The man staring back at him was someone who had clawed his way back from the abyss, someone who had forced his own transformation. His body had sculpted itself through years of hard work and discipline, and his demeanor had hardened to match the cold efficiency he now embodied.

The charity gala—an event Jaemin had been reluctantly roped into attending—was the perfect showcase for his new persona. His father, Chairman Kang, had insisted on his attendance, no doubt as a show of familial unity, a final attempt to tether him to the family’s image. But Jaemin knew the truth: his presence there was merely another expectation thrust upon him by people who had no idea who he had become.

As he arrived at the gala, the glittering crowd parted as he made his way into the venue, the murmurs of surprise filling the air. Jaemin had always been a shadow of his potential in his family’s eyes, the one who didn’t meet expectations, the disappointment. But now, in the well-tailored tux, his chiselled features and confident stride made people take notice. His transformation was impossible to ignore, though most of the guests were too polite to ask questions.

In the distance, he spotted her—the woman who had once meant everything to him, Sooah. She was standing at the edge of the room, laughing with a few of her high-society friends, her sparkling engagement ring catching the light as she gestured. For a moment, Jaemin allowed himself to watch her from afar. She had always been beautiful, but there was something different about her tonight. The smile on her face seemed forced, though she tried her best to hide it.

Jaemin wasn’t the only one who had changed, it seemed.

Sooah’s life, too, had shifted in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He had learned about her engagement to Lee Joon-Ho months ago while he was in the US, through a news article. What had stung more than the announcement itself was the realization that Sooah had agreed to marry Joon-Ho—someone who, according to whispers from those in the know, was little more than a spoiled drunkard, a man whose family's wealth and status had carried him through life without much effort. The same man who was now bound to Sooah, the woman Jaemin had once planned a future with.

At first, Jaemin had felt a twinge of pain, imagining Sooah tying herself to a man like Joon-Ho, a man who could never understand her the way Jaemin had. But as he learned more about the situation, a bitter truth dawned on him. Sooah hadn’t chosen Joon-Ho out of love. She had chosen him as a means to an end—an end to her relationship with Jaemin. The engagement to Joon-Ho had been her way of severing the tie between them, of finally freeing herself from the shackles of the past. It had taken Jaemin a while to accept this reality, but now, standing here in the midst of the gala, he understood fully. Sooah had never wanted him in the way he had wanted her. She had been looking for an escape, a way to punish him for his shortcomings, for the things he could never be.

And now, seeing her again, Jaemin realized that she hated Joon-Ho even more than she had ever hated him. The engagement had been her last desperate attempt to move on, to prove to herself that she could escape the hurt Jaemin had left behind. But it hadn’t worked. Joon-Ho’s incompetence, his inability to fulfill Sooah’s emotional needs, was making her regret her decision. Jaemin couldn’t help but smirk bitterly to himself. He wasn’t surprised—Sooah was too proud to admit her own mistakes.

A voice cut through his thoughts.

“Jaemin.”

He turned. His father, Chairman Kang, was standing by his side, his face set in that familiar, cold expression. The Chairman’s eyes flicked toward the crowd, but his attention was fixed firmly on his son.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said in a low voice, his tone commanding. “Remember your role tonight.”

Jaemin nodded curtly, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze had found Sooah again, and this time, her eyes were locked on him.

The moment their eyes met, something shifted. A brief flicker of shock passed over her face before she quickly masked it with a polite smile. She excused herself from her group and began to move toward him. Jaemin stood still, watching her approach, feeling the weight of all the unresolved emotions between them.

When she was close enough, Sooah stopped in front of him. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. She hadn’t expected to see him here, and she certainly hadn’t expected to see him looking the way he did. Gone was the young man she had left behind—he was now a stranger, a man forged by his own pain and resilience.

“I… Jaemin,” Sooah said, her voice soft. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to his impeccable appearance. “You… you’ve changed.”

Jaemin didn’t smile. His face was a mask of indifference, though his eyes held the quiet storm of memories. “I have,” he replied simply. His voice was calm, almost cold, but there was no animosity in his tone. Only a sense of finality.

Sooah took a deep breath, her gaze lowering for a brief moment before meeting his eyes again. “I’m sorry… for what I said before,” she whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “I… I shouldn’t have said you would never become someone of worth. I was angry, and I—”

Jaemin cut her off before she could finish. “You don’t need to apologize. You were right,” he said quietly, his words sharp and to the point.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with the ghosts of their past that neither of them had the courage to confront. Jaemin’s gaze remained unwavering, and Sooah, despite her attempt to offer an apology, seemed to realize just how pointless it all was. She had made her choices, and so had he.

With that, Jaemin turned his back to her, making a move to leave the gala. His father’s voice called after him, but Jaemin ignored it. He had nothing left to prove to anyone—not to Sooah, not to his family, and certainly not to a society that had only ever looked down on him.

As he exited the venue, the weight of the night settled on his shoulders. There was no satisfaction in seeing Sooah again, no sense of closure. Just the crushing realization that the past could never be undone, and that the person he had once been— the person she had known—was gone.