Chapter 21: The Distance Between Us
Seo-Ah didn't open the blinds for three days.
The sunlight felt like an invasion—too pure, too bright for what now weighed her down. Her apartment had become a cocoon of silence, filled with unanswered questions and half-finished cups of tea. Every sound outside—footsteps, muffled conversations—made her flinch.
But worse than the fear was the ache.
The ache of knowing.
She had begged herself not to fall for someone like him. Too polished. Too distant. Too powerful. But it wasn't his money or name that undid her. It was the way he looked at her when she wasn't speaking. As if her silence told stories even she didn't know she was telling.
And now?
Now, she couldn't unsee the blood on his knuckles, the way his voice had shifted when he spoke to men who feared him. That... version of him.
The Devil.
Ji-Hyun's words returned in flashes:
> "You think you know him? Sweetheart, you've only met the surface."
Seo-Ah squeezed her eyes shut.
She didn't know whether to cry or scream.
But when the knock came—sharp, intentional—she did neither.
She froze.
Three knocks.
Then silence.
She inched toward the door and peered through the peephole. No one. Just a small white envelope on the ground, weighted by a smooth, black stone.
She opened it with trembling fingers.
Inside: no name. Just a note.
> "I will always be here, protecting you.
I'm sorry — M"
Her fingers curled tightly around the paper.
He was still watching her. Still protecting her. Still not ready to face her.
Neither was she.
---
Min-Jun stood in the alley, hidden by shadow, watching her silhouette move away from the door. He didn't need to see her face to know she hadn't slept. Her steps were slower. Her body curled into itself like she was trying to disappear.
Min-Jun exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold air.
He shouldn't have come. He should have left the city that night.
But something anchored him here.
She was his final tether to a life that could've been normal.
And he had dragged her into hell.
You're selfish, he told himself.
He pressed a burner phone to his ear.
A man's voice answered. "Boss. They're regrouping. Word is someone higher than Do-Hwan is coming in. Someone that wants your head."
Min-Jun's jaw clenched. "I want names. And locations."
The man hesitated. "You sure about this? You walk back into that world—there's no going back."
Min-Jun's voice was ice.
> "There's no world worth living in where she's not safe."
__________________
Seo-Ah
The waiting room of Dr. Oh's private practice was painfully quiet, decorated in soft grays and pale blues. Even the paintings on the walls — impressionist waves and faceless women — seemed to whisper: Breathe.
But Seo-Ah couldn't.
She clutched the cup of herbal tea given to her, eyes unfocused, mind replaying memories like a film she didn't remember starring in.
Gunshots.
Min-Jun's blood-smeared hands.
Her own voice, whispering his name like a prayer she didn't know whether to curse or keep.
"Miss Seo?" the receptionist called gently.
She stood and followed the hallway toward her therapist's office, but someone exiting the adjacent room bumped into her lightly.
"Ah, I'm sorry," the man said, catching her by the elbow before she could stumble.
Seo-Ah looked up.
Warm brown eyes. A soft smile.
Hair slightly tousled, like he always ran his hands through it when thinking. There was a depth in his gaze that felt instantly safe — and unfamiliar.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded, too stunned to respond properly.
He offered a small bow before walking past her. His scent lingered — rain, earth, and something clean.
Seo-Ah didn't even realize she was still staring until her therapist opened the door.
"You met Dr. Kang?" Dr. Oh asked with a small smile.
She blinked. "That was...?"
"Jae-Hyun. He shares the floor. A kind soul."
Kind. The word tasted foreign now.
---
The underground fight club was loud with bloodlust. Somewhere behind the cage walls, bets were being placed, and someone shouted his name — the name he once used in the darkest circles.
But Min-Jun wasn't there to win. He was there to be seen.
A message.
To them.
To himself.
I'm not afraid of what I used to be.
He swung hard — fists, rage, pain. One man fell, then another. The final one called him a ghost.
"You should've stayed dead."
Min-Jun wiped the blood off his mouth and walked out without a word.
He didn't feel stronger. He just felt... further from her.
---
Seo-Ah
Two weeks into therapy, she found herself talking to Dr. Oh — really talking. About the nightmares. The confusion. The guilt. About how she both missed and feared him.
After one particularly draining session, she stayed late in the hallway, curled up with a book on the small leather bench.
"Need something warmer than that tea," a voice said beside her.
She looked up to see him again — Dr. Kang. A takeaway cup in hand. He held it out to her with a shy smile.
"Chamomile and cinnamon," he said. "It helps."
Reluctantly, she took it.
"I'm Jae-Hyun."
"Seo-Ah."
He didn't ask anything more. Just sat beside her in silence, eyes closing briefly like he, too, needed the quiet.
They met again the next week. Then again.
He didn't push. He didn't flirt. He just was.
And somehow, that was exactly what she needed.
---
Min-Jun
Three weeks later, he saw her.
Not in her apartment.
Not in his dreams.
She quit her job
But on the other side of a bookstore aisle.
Seo-Ah was laughing softly, brushing her fingers across a paperback's spine. Jae-Hyun stood beside her, holding a second copy. Matching scarves, matching smiles.
Min-Jun didn't move. His breath caught.
She didn't see him.
Or maybe she did—and chose not to.