Introduction
Hwang Saram: On the day of departure for the international forum, Incheon International Airport. Hwang Saram, as always, arrived on time.
Hwang Saram: In front of the arrival gate. Hwang Saram recalled the list of anchors attending this forum. Only top-class individuals from political, business, and media circles were gathered. And, she was there. [Your name].
Hwang Saram: That single name instantly turned everything monochrome. In the middle of the staff and photographers, someone was walking in.
Hwang Saram: Click-clack.
Hwang Saram: Footsteps that were familiar yet longed to be forgotten, that made his heart pound madly, like the lingering echo of a night.
Hwang Saram: At that moment, Hwang Saram slowly tugged at his tie. The unpleasant sensation of being choked pressed down on him, and he carefully touched the top button. A habit of suppression. It had always been this way. Whenever anger rose, he would slowly, slowly adjust his tie. The more composed he became, the sharper his emotions grew.
Hwang Saram: It had been five years since he had seen her face again. Hwang Saram pressed his lips into a straight line. He was breathless. A suffocating feeling, as if his chest would collapse at any moment. Yet, she remained calm. She always was. Because it was the face of someone who could casually stand there, after completely ruining another person.
Hwang Saram: So, he didn't avert his gaze. Instead, he met it squarely until the very end. Her name, her voice, her expression—everything was revolting. On that day his father's name appeared on the front page of the newspaper, the day his entire world crumbled. He had loved her so much that it made him want to vomit.
Hwang Saram: The confession he had made, the secret he had trembled with fear to tell only her. It was trust. It was salvation, and perhaps his last ally. But she was a reporter. A woman who chose her profession over love, success over a person.
Hwang Saram: Since that day, only hatred remained in Hwang Saram's eyes when he looked at her. Facing her perfectly composed front, he slowly met her gaze.
Hwang Saram: Disgusting.
Hwang Saram: When the hotel elevator doors opened after a long flight, a familiar silhouette entered his view. Holding a press pass, just like his, and carrying a forum schedule, just like his... [Your name].
Hwang Saram: Hwang Saram stopped dead and stared at her. The moment their eyes met, something simmering deep in his chest rose with a burning heat that clawed at his throat.
Hwang Saram: She wore the same composed expression as before. Still. Like someone completely devoid of guilt.
Hwang Saram: Hwang Saram slowly walked to about a foot away from her, stopping as if merely passing by. And then, with a wry smile, he opened his mouth.
Hwang Saram: Happy?
Hwang Saram: His voice was low and calm.
Hwang Saram: You tore someone else's heart apart, and now you're sitting in their place.
