While Ji-Hyun was sitting on the bed grieving about her life, her pretty face saddened. She received a few texts from her coworker Mina, her best friend who works in Ji-Hyun's fashion design company.
Mina: Hey Ji-Hyun!
Mina:You've been looking down lately.
Mina:Let's go to this party downtown.
Ji-Hyun was about to say no but right then, her bell rang. When she went to open it there she was! Mina standing there looking smug. She dragged Ji-Hyun to the dressing room and picked a dress for her. "Ji-Hyun, c'mon, you need some fun in your life" Mina said, trying her best to cheer her up. Ji-Hyun muttered something about needing sleep instead but was forced there
instead.
The club was louder than Ji-Hyun expected — neon lights pulsed like a heartbeat, music thumped through the floor, and bodies moved in chaotic waves. Mina disappeared into the crowd within seconds, already greeting people she knew.
Ji-Hyun tried to breathe, but something in her chest tightened.
The air felt too heavy.
Too hot.
Too loud.
She pushed through the dancers, mumbling apologies, until she finally found a sliding glass door leading to a small balcony.
Cold air rushed against her skin.
She exhaled.
For the first time that night, she could think.
A few snowflakes drifted from the sky, melting when they touched the railing. The city below sparkled — bright, noisy, alive — everything she didn't feel.
She hugged her arms around herself.
That's when she sensed it — someone else on the balcony.
A tall figure stood in the far corner, leaning against the railing. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, and he held an untouched drink loosely in one hand. His expression was calm but hollow, as if he'd been staring at the world for too long and found nothing worth looking at.
He glanced at Ji-Hyun.
Their eyes met.
Not in a romantic way.
Not even curious.
Just… recognition.
Two strangers hiding from the same kind of pain.
Ji-Hyun looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry… I didn't mean to disturb you."
"You didn't," he said. His voice was low, smooth, but flat — like someone who had forgotten how emotion worked.
Silence settled again.
Oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable.
After a moment, he spoke first.
"You don't like crowds?"
Ji-Hyun huffed a quiet laugh. "Not tonight."
"Same."
She studied him from the corner of her eye. He looked… composed. Almost too composed, like someone holding himself together with invisible wires.
He noticed her gaze but didn't pull away.
Instead, he lifted his drink slightly.
"To bad nights," he said.
Ji-Hyun let out a soft, humorless breath. "To Very bad nights."
They clinked glasses lightly — her empty one against his full one — and both looked out at the city.
After a long pause, he asked, "Who broke you?"
The question startled her, but he said it not with curiosity — with familiarity. Like someone who'd asked it to himself many times.
"My fiancé," she admitted quietly. "Or… ex-fiancé."
He nodded once, slow. "My girlfriend."
Ji-Hyun blinked. "Oh."
"She said I wasn't social enough. That I was destroying her social life."
Ji-Hyun hesitated, then asked softly, "Do you miss her?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed on the city — distant, unfocused, like he was staring at a memory instead of the skyline.
"Not her," he finally said. "Just… the version of me I thought I could be with her."
Ji-Hyun felt the words sink into her like cold water.
"I get that," she murmured. "I don't think I miss him. I miss the life I thought we were building."
He gave her a sideways glance, as if surprised she understood so precisely.
The music from inside thumped through the balcony door, but out here the world felt suspended — two people sharing the same invisible bruise.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Ji-Hyun."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You?"
"Seon-Woo."
They exchanged small nods, as if confirming each other's existence.
Another gust of wind blew across the balcony. Ji-Hyun shivered, rubbing her hands together. Seon-Woo didn't miss it; he shrugged off his jacket slightly, but she lifted a hand.
"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Really."
He didn't argue, but something in his expression softened — a quiet appreciation for the fact that she didn't want to be a burden.
A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again.
"You know," Seon-Woo said, tilting his head, "there's something weirdly comforting about this."
"What is?"
"This." He gestured between them. "Two miserable people hiding at the same party. Somehow it feels… less pathetic."
Ji-Hyun huffed a small laugh. The first real one of the night.
"Yeah. Misery does love company."
He studied her for a moment longer, his gaze clearer now, less clouded.
Then he said something she didn't expect.
"Do you want to make them regret it?"
Ji-Hyun blinked. "What?"
"Our exes," he clarified. "Do you want them to regret leaving you?"
She looked down at her hands, voice barely audible.
"…More than anything."
Seon-Woo finally took a sip of his untouched drink. "Me too."
A reckless spark flickered in his eyes — not playful, not cruel, just… desperate enough to be honest.
"What are you suggesting?" Ji-Hyun asked, wary but curious.
He leaned against the railing, the cold wind tousling his hair as he spoke.
"Let's date," he said plainly.
Ji-Hyun choked on her breath.
"What—?"
"For one month," he continued. "Not real dating. Just… public enough, convincing enough. Something that makes our exes stop and think."