Chapter 8: The Invitation You Gave Me

Your wedding invitation—to me.

There’s a limit to how cruel someone can be.

At times, Kwon Se-ha seemed endlessly heartless.

Hae-su desperately hoped that when he opened his mouth, his voice wouldn’t tremble.

“What does it matter who I receive it from?”

[…That’s true. Still, I wanted to see you at least once before the wedding.]

We are not the kind of people who can sit face to face and talk comfortably.

Hae-su knew that.

And so did the man on the other end.

But Hae-su couldn’t refuse.

Seeing his face.

It might mean nothing to others, but not to Hae-su.

This man, who had forgotten everything, said such things so easily.

Without caring at all about how it would feel for me to attend your wedding.

“Is this just a polite greeting?

Or do you really want to meet?”

[Have I ever exchanged polite greetings with you over the past few years?]

No.

Contact had almost completely stopped years ago.

If it wasn’t just a greeting, then the one in trouble was Hae-su.

He wanted to see him.

He had missed him all this time….

“Send me the place in a message.”

[Alright.]

“I’ll hang up.”

The person Hae-su had longed for no longer existed in this world.

The tone wasn’t cold.

But that made it feel even more merciless.

If Se-ha said what he needed and hung up, Hae-su knew exactly how he would stand there blankly for a long time.

So without waiting for a proper response, he shoved the phone into his bag.

A crack formed in his otherwise monotonous daily life.

For Kwon Se-ha himself to reach out meant it must be something important.

There was no way he would pull Hae-su’s name out of his contacts after years just for a meaningless conversation.

If he didn’t steel himself, he would be the one who suffered.

Hae-su clenched his fist tightly so he wouldn’t forget that.

Choi Hae-su.

His eyes kept returning to those three characters.

One thing was certain—

the owner of that name was his former lover.

A lover he had no memory of.

“Director, let’s go. It’s almost time for your lunch appointment with the chairman.”

“Yeah.”

He had been holding his phone, wasting time unlike himself.

Every time the screen went dark, he tapped it again to brighten it.

Then Do-yoon entered the room.

Because of a recent cooperative project assignment, he had been coming and going from the office like it was his own home.

Only after seeing Do-yoon did Se-ha finally look away from his phone.

He had just finished speaking with Hae-su.

Even before pressing the call button, he had hesitated several times.

When the call connected and he heard Hae-su’s voice, he realized he had been slightly tense.

After hanging up, he let out a sigh.

There was no need, yet it bothered him.

At the same time, there was something relieving about it.

Any guilt toward this half-remembered lover had already disappeared long ago.

And perhaps soon, this strange relationship would be completely resolved.

With those thoughts continuing, he spoke casually.

“I called Choi Hae-su.”

“Huh? Oh. Must’ve been the first time hearing his voice in a while.”

I didn’t mean for you to actually call him.

Do-yoon, who had delivered the wedding invitation to Hae-su on Se-ha’s behalf, clicked his tongue quietly.

It seemed his earlier cautious suggestion had irritated Se-ha.

Se-ha noticed the sound immediately and his expression hardened.

Do-yoon’s face also stiffened at what followed.

“I asked him to meet.”

“Why?”

“What’s with your tone?”

“What are you thinking, doing this now?”

“What?”

Se-ha, who had stood up, paused at Do-yoon’s words.

Though he said nothing, his frozen expression made it seem as if his thoughts had been exposed.

Do-yoon didn’t avoid his gaze either.

“I don’t even want him to come to your wedding.

So why see him at all?”

“We should end things properly.”

At the word “end,” Do-yoon’s clenched fist tightened further.

He didn’t know how much more there was left to end,

but nothing coming out of Se-ha’s mouth felt right.

“From my perspective, it’s natural to worry he might act strangely at any moment.”

“……”

“Relax your eyes.”

Did he even know that Hae-su wasn’t the kind of person capable of that?

Because he didn’t know, everything was easy.

He had never even tried to understand.

Do-yoon bit down on his lower lip.

“You weren’t like this when we were younger.

But you’ve become quite aggressive.

Especially when it comes to Choi Hae-su.”

“……”

“Don’t worry. I just have something to say.”

After ignoring him for years,

after not even noticing how broken Hae-su had become,

now he wanted to declare an ending first.

Before answering Se-ha’s call, Hae-su must have cleared his throat several times.

That image kept replaying in Do-yoon’s mind.

You fool.

Kwon Se-ha and Choi Hae-su had only dated for two years.

But what was cut out of Se-ha’s memory was far more than that.

Naturally, all the memories of loving Hae-su were gone.

Even though Se-ha had awakened,

and Hae-su was still alive.

“…Don’t say anything unnecessary.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

What had Se-ha said back then, when he had fully regained consciousness?

Did he ask who Choi Hae-su even was?

Or did he simply frown and say nothing…?

It was something like—

“If you’re an outsider, how did you get in?”

Do-yoon still remembered Hae-su’s trembling eyes as he heard those absurd words.

His small hands clenched so tightly that crescent-shaped nail marks were left behind.

And yet, he didn’t cry in front of Se-ha.

Even though he had lost him in an instant.

Even though he had lost the person he loved.

After the call, Hae-su walked straight through the lobby.

He hadn’t exerted himself in therapy, yet his legs trembled.

This was a kind of fatigue that often consumed his entire body.

And this time, it seemed intent on interfering with his steps.

He found a seating area in the hospital lobby.

But it was filled with people.

Even on a weekday afternoon, not a single seat was empty.

After searching for a moment, he finally leaned against a nearby pillar instead.

Out of habit, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out his phone from deep inside.

With a faint hope, he checked his messages.

Our Se-ha.

The red “1” next to the name felt like a dream.

“Um, you can sit here.”

“Oh… no, it’s alright.”

Unaware that he had embarrassed someone who kindly offered their seat, he began walking again.

Whether he had rested or not didn’t matter.

Just that one name had taken all of his attention.

His finger hesitated over the screen.

[Let’s meet at 7 PM.]

A short message deciding the meeting place.

Reading that single line, Hae-su thought about how arbitrary the sender’s personality was.

Regardless of the time, the fact that it was today made him let out a hollow laugh.

Below the short sentence was a link to the location.

The meeting place was a traditional Korean restaurant.

As soon as he checked it, he couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Whose taste is this supposed to be?

Kwon Se-ha and traditional cuisine—

they didn’t match at all.

Did his eating habits change with age?

Probably not.

He scoffed to himself.

A man who used to live on sweets—traditional food, really?

It was just a message with nothing more to it.

The sender probably didn’t mean anything by it.

And yet, for some reason, his eyes stung.

From his forehead to the tip of his nose,

everything felt hot, almost burning with pain.

That short message from Kwon Se-ha.

And the fragments of the past that stood in contrast to it.

When placed side by side, the feeling was dizzying.

Like someone stabbing his heart repeatedly with a knife.

Hae-su was certain of it.

The messages once filled with gentle words were long gone.

They no longer existed.

Still, after reading the message a few more times,

he felt hungry.

Wanting to eat something—

it was a sensation Hae-su hadn’t felt in a long time.

Honk— honk—!

The sounds of car horns tangled in the air.

At some point, he had walked and walked,

left the hospital,

and stepped onto a dark road.

Only then did he realize he was standing on a bridge connecting two large roads,

checking Se-ha’s message and laughing to himself like a madman.

People passed by him constantly.

Some glanced at him—

his thin clothing contrasting with how tightly his head and face were wrapped.

Others walked by, indifferent.

1:39 PM.

There was still plenty of time until the 7 PM meeting,

but for some reason, he didn’t want to go home.

So Hae-su started walking again, blending into the crowd.

He crossed the entire bridge,

and with his final step, stood at the edge of the road.

Then he turned around toward the opposite end,

where no one called for him.

He looked back at the path he had taken.

The bridge he thought he had crossed in an instant

was actually quite long.

As he frowned slightly,

the far end of the bridge came into clearer view.

Seeing an end

felt strangely unfamiliar.

For Choi Hae-su—

who believed he could see no end to anything—

this was the end of something.