Yoon Ji-ho wakes up before his alarm.
The early morning light filters through his apartment, stretching thin shadows across the walls. He blinks at the ceiling, motionless, mind heavy. Sleep has become an afterthought, something he only remembers when exhaustion forces his limbs into stillness. Even then, rest doesn’t come easy.
For nights, he has been like this—trapped between wakefulness and something else. Something half-remembered, half-forgotten.
He moves through his morning routine. Shower. Clothes. Workout. Routine. Stability. These are the things that keep him grounded. The things that keep him from questioning too much.
His phone vibrates. A message notification flickers at the top of the screen.
Ji-ho doesn’t reach for it. He already knows what it is.
The text. The one that called him Soo-min.
A knock on his door jolts him from his trance. Ji-ho exhales, grabs his coat and bag, and leaves without looking back.
The twenty-minute walk does nothing to settle him. The air feels thick, the sounds of the city too loud. By the time he arrives, his shoulders are still tense.
“Ji-ho-ssi!”
One of his coworkers waves him over. Ji-ho forces a smile, rubbing his temple.
“Morning,” he mutters.
The coworker, a man slightly older, smirks.
“You look like you didn’t sleep. Again.”
Another voice chimes in.
“That’s because he’s always buried in his books. I swear, I’ve never seen him outside this place.”
Ji-ho exhales. “I have a life outside of here, you know.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”
The first coworker leans against the counter. “You coming to the company dinner later?”
Ji-ho hesitates. “Dinner?”
“You forgot, didn’t you?” The man sighs dramatically. “You always skip these things. Just come, for once. It’s not that serious.”
Ji-ho glances at the schedule taped to the counter. Right. The dinner.
“You’re coming, right?”
Ji-ho hesitates, then nods.
“Yeah… I guess.”
His coworkers exchange glances before bursting into laughter.
“Yah, Ji-ho-ssi! Look at you being social for once.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.
His shift ends as the sky dims. Ji-ho pulls his coat tighter and steps outside.
Then—
He collides with someone.
Not a light bump. A full, solid collision that nearly knocks him off his feet. Ji-ho stumbles, hands instinctively reaching out.
“Joesonghamnida (I’m sorry—)”
As he bows, the words die in his throat.
Because the man in front of him isn’t just anyone.
His face is worn, lined with exhaustion. His eyes—sharp, searching, aching—lock onto Ji-ho’s with an intensity that makes his breath stutter.
Jung Hyun-seok.
The one-man protester.
For a second, neither of them moves. The world around them fades. The only thing Ji-ho can hear is the distant rush of traffic and the pounding of his pulse.
Then—
“You…”
Hyun-seok’s voice is rough, quiet, layered with something unreadable. His eyes flicker, scanning Ji-ho’s face like he’s grasping for something just out of reach. Then, barely above a whisper—
“…Algo inna? (Do you know?)”
Ji-ho doesn’t understand the question. Or maybe, he doesn’t want to.
“Ah, anniyo (Ah, I do not). I think you have the wrong person.”
But his voice is too stiff. Too forced.
Hyun-seok doesn’t move. His grip on the sign in his hand tightens. Ji-ho feels his chest clench with an unfamiliar pressure.
Then, suddenly, Hyun-seok exhales. The weight of whatever passed between them settles unspoken. Ji-ho steps back, bows.
“…Joesonghamnida. (…I’m sorry.)”
He turns and walks away.
The restaurant is packed when Ji-ho arrives. His coworkers are already gathered at a long table, drinks in hand, laughter spilling over the hum of conversation.
“Ji-ho-ssi! Over here!”
He forces a smile and takes a seat.
As the night drags on, the conversations around him blur. People pour drinks for each other, clinking glasses, sharing stories. Someone nudges him.
“Ani, Ji-ho-ssi. Why do you always sit so stiffly? You act like you don’t belong.”
He chuckles lightly. “I’m just tired.”
A woman across from him leans in.
“You know, Ji-ho, you’re a bit of a mystery.”
He blinks. “What?”
“You’re polite, but you never talk much about yourself. It’s like you’re always watching from the outside.”
Another coworker grins.
“What if he’s a secret chaebol kid who ran away from his rich family?”
The table erupts in laughter, but Ji-ho just grips his glass.
They’re joking.
But for the first time, he wonders if there’s something true in the idea that he is someone else.
Hyun-seok wakes up alone. The sun barely filters through the curtains, casting muted grey shadows across the room. His bed is too large. The silence—too loud.
Once, he had everything.
A wife who loved him. A son who adored him. A business empire that bore his name.
SOJiUN & Co.
A name built from the ground up, combining the two most important people in his life—Seo Ji-hyeon and Soo-min.
Then one day, he came home to an empty house.
Then Soo-min was gone.
At first, Ji-hyeon tried to be strong. She smiled through it, held his hand, told him she believed they would find him.
But each day, her voice wavered. Each week, her smile thinned. Each month, her hope turned into something else.
One night, she walked to the Han River Bridge.
No hesitation. No note. Just grief.
They told him she jumped.
She wanted to be with her son.
They found her body a week later.
And that was the moment he knew—He had lost everything.
Now, this is all he has.
A sign. A name. A cause no one cares about.
For 19 years, he has stood on the same street corner, holding the same sign.
“MY SON DID NOT RUN AWAY. MY SON WAS TAKEN.”
Then—
He sees him.
Jung Hyun-seok doesn’t believe in ghosts.
But the man standing in front of him is a dead man walking.
Yoon Ji-ho.
Except that isn’t his name.
But he doesn’t know that.
Hyun-seok’s hands tighten around the sign, his pulse roaring in his ears.
“You…”
Ji-ho’s face goes blank. His mouth opens, then closes.
“Ah, anniyo (Ah, I do not). I think you have the wrong person.”
A lie.
Every parent recognizes their child.
Hyun-seok steps forward, gripping the sign tightly.
His mind spins. His heart begs him to believe it.
Is it him? It’s him!
But then—
Ji-ho steps back.
“Joesonghamnida. (…I’m sorry.)”
And then he’s gone.
For the first time in years, Hyun-seok feels something other than grief.
He feels rage.
Jung Soo-min is alive.
And someone took him away.
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