POV: Kang Yejun
The champagne flute slips from Yejun's hand.
It shatters against the floor of Celestia restaurant, sending sparkling liquid across white marble and drawing every head in the dining room toward their table. Yejun watches the glass break in slow motion, each piece catching the light like diamonds. His mind hasn't caught up to what Minho just said. His hands haven't processed what his ears heard.
"We should break up."
Four words. Simple. Casual. Delivered the same way you'd order dessert.
Yejun blinks at Han Minho across the table, searching for the joke, the smile that never comes. The man he's waited three years for. The man he chose. The man he planned to marry. Minho sits back in his chair with the expression of someone who's just closed a boring business deal, swirling wine like Yejun's world isn't cracking open.
"I don't understand," Yejun whispers.
Around them, the restaurant goes quiet. Whispers start. Phone cameras lift like poisonous flowers blooming in the expensive air. Yejun's chest tightens. They're at Celestia, Seoul's most exclusive restaurant. Everyone here knows everyone. Everyone here knows about Kang Yejun, the patient boyfriend who's been waiting for his love to succeed before building their future together.
Everyone is about to know something else.
"It's simple," Minho says, his voice carrying the confidence of a man who's already won. "I'm in love with someone else."
The words hit like a physical blow. Yejun's mouth goes dry. Minho's beautiful face, the one Yejun has memorized over three years of longing, shows no remorse. No sadness. Nothing but cool indifference.
"Who?" Yejun asks, though something in his stomach already knows. Something inside him remembers Jihoon's sudden appearances. The way Minho started staying late for "business meetings." The way his half-brother's smile turned cruel.
Minho glances toward the entrance. Jihoon walks in like he owns the place, like he's been waiting for his cue in the wings. Of course he was. Yejun watches his half-brother cross the dining room with predatory grace, stopping directly behind Minho's chair. Jihoon slides his arm around Minho's shoulders, and they look like the perfect couple. Sculpted. Polished. Victorious.
"We've been together for six months," Jihoon says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He leans down to kiss Minho's cheek, making sure the entire restaurant sees it. Making sure Yejun sees it. "I'm so glad we don't have to hide anymore, baby."
Baby. The word Minho used to call Yejun when they were alone. The word Yejun learned to cherish in the dark. The word that meant forever.
Yejun can't breathe properly. The restaurant is spinning. When did this happen? How did he miss it? His best friend Sera warned him. She said Minho seemed distracted. She said his half-brother was spending too much time at their apartment. Yejun didn't listen. Yejun believed in loyalty. Yejun believed in love.
Yejun was stupid.
"You were just practice," Minho says, and the casualness in his tone is somehow worse than cruelty. "I needed to figure out what I wanted before I committed to the real thing."
The real thing. The words echo in Yejun's ears like poison.
"I loved you," Yejun says, his voice breaking. "I waited for you. I never even looked at anyone else because I thought we were building something."
"You loved the idea of me," Minho corrects, standing. He drops several bills on the table with the gesture of a man tipping a parking attendant. "You never actually saw me. But Jihoon does. Jihoon understands what I need."
Jihoon leans down, his smile cruel as winter. "You were always the golden boy, oppa. But you're not smart enough to keep anything. Not the company. Not your boyfriend. Not anything that matters."
The words should hurt. They do hurt. But it's not the pain of loss. It's the pain of recognition. Yejun looks at his half-brother and sees the envy that's been festering since they were children. The resentment of someone who was handed nothing and had to fight for scraps while Yejun was born with the world already his.
Except the world isn't his anymore, is it?
Minho stands, buttoning his jacket with methodical precision. "I'm going to take Jihoon home now. I hope you understand this is nothing personal."
Nothing personal. As if the three years Yejun gave him meant nothing. As if the times Yejun turned down other opportunities to support Minho's career, the money he spent, the promise of his inheritance that Minho suddenly found so romantic, the way he stayed untouched and pure because Minho said he valued that.
Nothing personal.
"Wait," Yejun reaches across the table. "Minho, we should talk about this. I can explain whatever you think is—"
"There's nothing to explain." Minho pulls his hand away before Yejun can touch him. "We're done."
He walks toward the exit with Jihoon beside him, their arms linked, their steps synchronized like they've been planning this dance for months. Which they have. Six months of lies while Yejun made pancakes every Sunday. Six months of betrayal while Yejun brought Minho coffee to his design studio.
Security appears at the table, their expressions apologetic but firm. "Sir, we're going to need you to settle your bill and step outside."
"Step outside," Yejun repeats blankly. "Minho came here with me. This is my reservation."
"Mr. Han requested we ask you to leave. He's a preferred client, and we'd prefer to maintain that relationship."
The implication is clear: You are nobody. He is somebody. Choose.
Yejun stands on shaking legs. Around the restaurant, people are still watching, still recording. Phone cameras flash like fireflies. He can feel the moment his private devastation becomes public spectacle. He can taste the moment his life becomes trending content.
The walk toward the exit feels like walking through fire. He passes tables of people who smiled at him a week ago, who envied his beautiful boyfriend and his beautiful life. Now they watch him like he's a wounded animal they're deciding whether to put down. Whispers follow him. Phones stay up.
Outside Celestia, the Seoul air hits him cold and sharp. The Han River glimmers in the distance, indifferent to his destruction. Yejun pulls out his phone with shaking hands and opens social media.
#KangYejunScandal is already trending.
Videos from inside the restaurant are being shared across multiple platforms. Some kind soul has even edited it with sad music. Yejun watches himself on screen getting dumped, watches Jihoon's cruel smile, watches the humiliation play out in 4K resolution.
The comments are already rolling in.
"omg he had no idea""minho and jihoon are cute tho""kang industries heir got played lmfao""he looks like he's never been with anyone...is this guy a virgin or something?"
The last comment makes Yejun's stomach drop. Is that obvious? Can people tell just by looking at him that he's never experienced anything real? That he's been waiting three years for something that was never coming?
His phone explodes with notifications. Messages from people he hasn't spoken to in months suddenly appearing, asking if he's okay, if it's true, if Minho is really leaving him for Jihoon. Within seconds, the messages shift from concerned to pitying. From pitying to mocking.
Then an email notification appears.
Subject: Your position at Kang Industries
Yejun opens it with trembling fingers.
Dear Mr. Kang,
Following recent developments, the board has voted to suspend your position pending investigation into your moral character. Please return your company ID and access badges by tomorrow morning. Your current salary has been frozen. Any attempt to contact board members before the investigation concludes will result in immediate termination.
Regards,Park Seonjin, Head of HR
Yejun reads it twice. Then a third time. The words don't change. The meaning is clear: You are finished.
He starts walking toward home, his phone ringing constantly. Unknown numbers. Former friends. Journalists. He doesn't answer. He can't answer. He's not even sure how his legs are moving.
The studio apartment he rents comes into view, small and shameful compared to the penthouse Minho wanted them to get after they married. Yejun climbs the stairs on autopilot, enters the tiny space he's called home, and finally sits down.
He opens his phone again to the notifications, the videos, the comments that keep getting worse.
That's when he sees something that makes his blood freeze.
A video of Jihoon walking through the Kang Industries building, surrounded by lawyers and board members. His half-brother is smiling like he owns the place. But that's not what makes Yejun's heart stop.
It's the caption underneath, posted by his stepmother's official account just minutes ago.
"Congratulations to our new heir apparent, Kang Jihoon. With Yejun's recent... difficulties... becoming apparent, the board has recognized who truly belongs in the company. Jihoon has the strength this family needs. Jihoon has the vision. While my oldest is busy with his personal problems, we're moving forward with actual leadership."
Yejun reads the words but they don't process.
His stepmother has publicly announced that he's out.
His inheritance is gone.
His future is erased.
And somewhere in this city, his ex-boyfriend is probably in bed with his half-brother, celebrating their victory while Yejun sits alone in a studio apartment, realizing that he's lost absolutely everything.
But that's when Yejun's phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
"Don't worry. Tomorrow will be worse."
The message comes with a photo attached. Yejun's hands shake as he opens it. His breath catches.
The image shows fabricated photos of him in compromising positions with unknown men. The timestamps say they're from during his relationship with Minho. It's impossible. It's fake. But it's perfectly done.
And Yejun knows exactly who sent this threat.
The words from the unknown number appear again.
"Your stepmother is showing these to the board tomorrow morning. By noon, you'll have nothing left. By evening, you won't exist. Welcome to real life, oppa."
It's Jihoon's number. Yejun recognizes it.
His half-brother isn't just stealing his inheritance. He's destroying him completely.
And Yejun has no idea how to fight back.