Tae-won stood there, frozen, staring at the empty space Min-woo had left behind.
Only when the sound of the car faded completely did his body finally give in.
Tears fell before he could stop them, sliding down his face unchecked. He lifted a hand and wiped at them roughly, smudging them away as if he could erase the pain the same way. His breathing was uneven, his shoulders tense as he tried to regain control.
He turned and began to walk, steps unsteady, but his mind was anything but quiet.
That night, Tae-won didn't sleep.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every expression, every moment he had shared with Min-woo that evening. Despite the pain, despite the harshness of Min-woo's words, one truth remained clear to him.
He was glad he had seen Min-woo.
He had waited for this moment for years—waited to see him again, to know he was alive, to face the consequences of his own silence.
And now that the moment had come, Tae-won knew something else just as clearly.
He couldn't stop.
No matter how much Min-woo pushed him away.
No matter how much hatred was thrown at him.
Tae-won made a decision in the quiet darkness of that sleepless night.
He would pursue Min-woo.
No matter what it took.
The next morning came far too quickly.
Tae-won hadn't slept even a full hour, but the moment daylight crept through the curtains, his mind was already made up. He didn't allow himself time to hesitate or rethink. If he paused, even for a second, doubt would seep in—and he couldn't afford that.
By late morning, he had the details.
He got them from Tae-sung.
Min-woo was working at a small publishing company, modest and relatively unknown, the kind that survived more on passion than profit. It wasn't flashy, and it didn't carry the prestige of the industry giants—but Min-woo's webtoon was different. It was already gaining traction. Quietly but steadily, readers were talking about it. Shares were increasing. Comments were flooding in. It had a voice that stood out.
When Tae-sung told him this, Tae-won wasn't surprised.
He had always known Min-woo would shine—just not how painfully far away he himself would be standing when it happened.
Tae-sung noticed the look on his brother's face almost immediately.
"Why are you asking about him?" he asked carefully, suspicion edging into his tone.
Tae-won didn't answer right away.
It wasn't hard for him to explain—at least, not on the surface.
He was working at one of the biggest publishing companies in the industry, a place people dreamed of getting into. As a managing editor, he had influence, authority, and a voice that mattered. His department was actively looking for something new—something bold. A different kind of webtoon. Something raw, emotionally layered, and unconventional.
And Min-woo's work fit that description perfectly.
"We're looking for a new type of webtoon," Tae-won finally said, keeping his tone professional, controlled. "Something that stands out. I thought… I might recommend him."
The explanation was neat. Logical. Clean.
But beneath it was something far more complicated.
Tae-sung studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but not pressing further. He knew better than anyone when Tae-won had already made up his mind.
Still, Tae-won added quickly, almost as an afterthought—but with unmistakable urgency,
"Don't tell Soo-bin. Or Min-woo."
Tae-sung frowned.
"Why not?"
"Because nothing is finalized," Tae-won replied immediately. "And I don't want misunderstandings. Not yet."
He didn't say the rest out loud.
That he didn't want Min-woo to think this was pity.
That he didn't want Soo-bin to see through him.
That he didn't want Min-woo to feel cornered—or worse, manipulated.
This had to be done carefully. Slowly. On Min-woo's terms, even if Min-woo never knew Tae-won was behind it.
Tae-sung hesitated, then nodded.
"Alright. I won't say anything."
As Tae-won hung up, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes briefly.
Last night, Min-woo had told him to get lost.
Today, Tae-won was stepping closer instead.
Not as a lover.
Not as someone from the past.
But as someone who refused to disappear.
In truth, Tae-won knew something even more painful—something he had never admitted out loud to anyone.
The publishing company he was working for now was Min-woo's dream.
He remembered it clearly. Years ago, when they were still young, when Min-woo spoke more freely and laughed more easily, he had once mentioned this company with quiet reverence. Not excitement. Not fantasy. But certainty. As if that place represented everything he wanted to become as an artist.
And Tae-won had remembered.
When Tae-won himself had been placed in multiple companies after graduation—offers lined up, names with weight and prestige—he hadn't chosen blindly. He had thought of Min-woo. Thought of that dream spoken in passing, that soft determination in Min-woo's voice. And without fully understanding why, Tae-won had chosen this company.
At the time, he told himself it was a coincidence.
A practical decision.
A good career move.
But sitting here now, years later, with Min-woo's name burning quietly in his chest again, he finally admitted the truth.
He had followed Min-woo even then.