The evening had arrived. The teams last gathering a thank you for their collective effort. A final fairwell.

As promised, the restaurant was an suitable architectural statement. Polished wood gleamed from the floor and walls, its acoustics were soft, despite the glass partitions frosted with linear patterns, preserving the privacy of rooms they helped define. Servers glided through the space in a quiet rhythm, while a discreet pianist played low jazz standards near the far wall. The hum of conversation was restrained, refined. A tranquil setting to slow a guest into a calmer state and allowing themself time to accept and prepare themselves for an expereince rather than simply eat.

In a private dining room at the rear, glass-doored and candle-lit, a long table had been painstakingly prepared, silk runners, place cards printed in serifed gold foil, and floral arrangements balanced in slender vases. Ambient light pooled in soft halos overhead.

Min-su's need to ensure the room was exactly as he had requested, meant he had arrived half an hour early. He had spent time with the head waiter ensuring the table and details were just as he had envisaged. He was now seated at the head of the table facing the door. He wore a three-piece suit, understated in its cut but the quality of the fabric lifting it a into a timeless article of clothing. He checked his watch once, only once.

Do-yeon entered the resturant, in a tailored navy jumpsuit with her hair up. She scanned the room, nodding in approval. Behind her, Sang-wook and a junior arrived, suddenly visibly aware they were underdressed for the event, but pretending they weren't. A waiter stepped forward to greet them. He took extraneous artcles of clothing before a collegue led them through the room where Min-su waited. As they entered he stood from his chair and walked forward to greet them warmly with a genuine smile and handshake.

Soo-hyun appeared at the door. Smart in a cream suite with a neatly pressed scarf tucked into his jacket, trying too hard, but pretending not to. Min-su greeted him with a gentle encompassing hug. A broad smile showing his pride in his prodigy.

As the guests settled into their seats they each stood to shake hands and comment on each others appeareance and the setting they found themselves in.

Hyun-woo entered the room, black suit, no tie, collar crisp, hair swept back. He moved without hesitation, stepping into the room with an ease that was quieter than confidence. As he entered both Min-su and Soo-hyun stood to greet him. He allowed himself a gentle smile as each greeted him.

Finally, Seo-jin apperaed. She wore a simple Navey blue dress with sharp shoulders and her hair loose, an understated elegance. She entered the restutant alone. A hostess pointed her toward the room, and her gaze caught Hyun-woo’s through the glass doors. She stepped inside. Min-su gently walked forward and greeted her the same way he had all the others. As he turned to take his own seat he stole a glance at Hyun-woo to catch him gazing at Seo-jin.

As she took her set, the guests exchanged compliments and gently chatted. The room settled as water glasses were poured and menus were glanced over, but not seriously. Tonight was ceremonial.

Min-su raised his glass from his seat. The table settled and looked to the head of the table.

"I just wanted to again show my gratitude to you all." He paused as if to say something else before perhaps choosing something a little more to the point, less emotional. "To a project that refused to be contained. And a team that gave it shape with, let’s be honest, only occasional drama."

Polite laughter rippled through the room. Glasses were lifted and clinked lightly.

"Tonight, eat and drink," Min-su continued. "Pretend I’m not going to ask three of you to freelance next quarter."

Another wave of laughter. But beneath it, something steadier now, a grace, finality, and the quiet recognition that this group wouldn’t gather quite like this again.

The table had been cleared, leaving only the lingering scent of the food and the faint shimmer of wine in half-empty glasses. A light, celebratory hum filled the private dining room, the kind that comes after good food and better company. Min-su and Do-yeon were deep in conversation, their heads tipped toward each other, while Sang-wook and the juniors drew laughter from Soo-hyun, who, despite the pale edges of his recent illness, was smiling and playing to the crowd.

Hyun-woo rose from the table, taking his glass with him. His chair slid back with a low scrape, a sound barely noticed over the chatter. He crossed the room at an unhurried pace, slipping through the glass door at the back and onto the rooftop terrace that overlooked the city skyline.

Seo-jin’s gaze followed him. His shoulders, once so familiar, now looked like something she could no longer recognize. After a moment, she took her own glass, stood, and followed him.

The night air was cool and still, carrying the faint tang of the street far below. The Seoul skyline stretched around them, neon signs glowing in fractured colors, a river of headlights flowing through the veins of the city.

Hyun-woo walked slowly to the railing, the heels of his shoes soft against the wooden deck. He placed his glass on the ledge, the faint ring of glass on metal breaking the quiet, and rested both hands beside it, leaning forward slightly as though the city might tell him something he’d been waiting to hear.

He looked down into the street. It pulsed with late-night life. A scooter weaving between cars, a delivery truck rumbling past, the low, constant hum of the city as steady as a heartbeat.

A moment later, the glass door clicked softly behind him. Seo-jin stepped out, the cooler air flicking her untied hair gently about her face. She paused, watching the familiar line of his back before approaching, her steps slow, deliberate, leaving a small space between them at the rail.

“You did that at school,” she said, her voice quiet enough to be nearly lost to the wind. “Stare out of the window into the street.”

He smiled faintly, eyes still fixed below. “Maybe I just wanted to be anywhere else.”

A silence settled between them, as comfortable as it was dangerous.

“What is it you see down there?” she asked, moving a step closer until she could feel the faint warmth radiating from his side. The space between them felt charged, the tension born of years. Part memory, part unspoken apology.

“I used to wonder where people were going,” he said, his voice thoughtful, almost distant. “Now I wonder what brought them here.” A pause. “What they’ve survived.”

Seo-jin studied his profile, the way the city lights caught his eyes. She stepped back slightly, her glass cool in her hand.

“Hyun-woo…” she began. “Can I ask something?”

“You just did.”

She almost smiled at that, but it faded quickly. “Will this be the last time we see each other?”

He turned to her, his gaze direct. A long pause hung in the air, each word weighed before release.

“I really don’t know.”

“What if I said... I don’t want it to be?”

He blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. “I’d ask what that means, but I think it’s just the wine talking.”

“It’s not,” she replied, her voice firm but not loud. “I’ve just stopped waiting for you to say something first.”

His expression faltered, and he looked away, down to the restless city below. “I used to be able to tell you anything. But now... now it feels like every word comes with a consequence.”

Seo-jin was quick to answer. “That was my fault. I—”

“I saw it,” he interrupted, his tone low but certain.

She stilled, breath catching.

“The letter you dropped in the bin.” He let the words settle before continuing. “I picked it up. Held it. I could have read it. Could have known. Maybe things would’ve been different. But I didn’t. I put it back. Because I was terrified it would say you were already gone.”

His eyes found hers, steady, unflinching. Seo-jin swallowed, the taste of wine suddenly sharp on her tongue.

“Why tell me now?” she asked.

“Because... you deserve to know I never stopped seeing you. Even when I couldn’t face you. Even now.”

Something in her chest ached, as if his words had reached an old wound. “You say that like it’s too late.”

He looked at her. As if getting a measure of her state.

“Actually... I think it may well be.” A beat. He watched her expression visibly change. Her lips parted as he finished the line. He felt the urge to explain himself. 

“You still matter. You always have. But you’re not mine to see that way anymore.”

The silence that followed was deep, the kind that made the air feel heavier. The city hummed beneath them, and somewhere in the distance, a siren’s wail rose and faded.

“So this is it?” she asked at last. Her tone flat a slight crack in her voice.

He hesitated, and in that hesitation she could almost hear the “no” he didn’t give her.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think this is it.”

Her gaze lingered on him, on the lines of his face she could still trace from memory. 

“Oh. I see,” She look a long pause and looked down into her glass. She suddenly jolted her head up, parted her lips to speak — but the glass door behind her suddenly swung open.

Sang-wook stepped out, a glass in hand, his tie loosened, a grin already in place. 

“Well, well. Thought you two disappeared into the night. Seo-jin, you better not be threatening to throw him off the balcony.”

Hyun-woo exhaled, maybe a laugh, maybe just relief. The moment cracked. Seo-jin turned, her expression composed but not genuine.

“I considered it,” she said lightly, a smirk flickering. “Then I remembered the paperwork.”

“Cold. I like it,” Sang-wook replied, mock scandalized. He tipped his glass toward the room inside. “Come on, before Min-su starts toasting himself. Again.”

He slipped back inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

Hyun-woo and Seo-jin looked at each other, just a heartbeat of quiet. There was still so much unspoken. But for now, it seemed, both understood that silence would have to be enough.