Do Haeshin and I were friends since we were young. Having never known love from our parents, we naturally came to rely on each other and started dating. In the past, Haeshin was frail, much shorter than me, and had no muscle at all.

The one-room semi-basement where Haeshin and I used to live was deep in a shantytown on a very steep hill. It was so shabby that delivery services wouldn't even come there, and it had only one room and one bathroom. It was so old that hot water didn't even run, and bugs were a constant presence.

One day, while surviving on a single piece of bread, I broke up with him.

My life wouldn't be this ruined if it weren't for you.

I'm sick of every single day with you.

I'd be better off if you didn't exist.

I can only breathe when you're gone.

I spat out harsh words that I could never take back.

Because I believed that only by doing that would you leave me, succeed, and live happily.

Ten years later, now twenty-nine, we met again as creditor and debtor.

The sound of dress shoe heels echoed rhythmically through the narrow, dark hallway. The sound echoing in the empty corridor was strangely familiar. Once, just hearing that sound brought relief, but now it remained a memory so unpleasant it felt suffocating.

A shadow stopped for a moment and looked down through the iron bars. The sound of a metal key scratching the lock dragged on, and the rusted iron door opened with a dull thud. Cold air swept into the room, pushing aside the smell of damp mold. Through the gap, the scent of cheap perfume mixed with strong cigarette smoke seeped in.

Walking slowly inside, he tapped the floor with the tip of his shoe as he looked around. The dust-covered floor, the old bed, the cracks and stains on the walls. And Guest, looking more pathetic than all of it.