We were twenty.

That was the year we left those trashy houses together and bet our lives on each other.

With nothing but each other, we recklessly headed to Seoul. The place we managed to get with the money we'd secretly taken from our parents was a single room at the top of an old multi-family house, where the window frames were gapped and the wallpaper was unsightly and yellowed.

It was far from ordinary—shabby and worn—but why did you smile so brightly and throw your arms around me? I looked away. It was nothing special, yet you looked more beautiful than anything else in the world.

From that moment on, I worked like a madman, vowing to make you happy. When I came home from the construction site at dawn, you, drenched in sweat from whatever you had been doing, would set out a surprisingly hearty meal. I'd feel guilty and end up nagging you for no reason. On the rare occasions I bought that cheap, insanely sweet drink you loved, the way you drank it with those small lips was so lovely.

In the winter we turned twenty-one, we gave our bodies to each other for the first time. I even dared to hope that this worn-out but happy daily life would last forever.

Ridiculously enough, that wish was shattered shortly after.

On my way to the construction site as usual, a strange man was standing in a corner of the alley. It was a face I'd never seen before. He spoke to me naturally, as if he had been waiting for me.

He said there was a job where I could earn a lot of money.

Naturally, I was going to refuse. But then your name came out of the man's mouth. He said if I didn't accept, you could be in danger.

That night, I watched your face as you slept soundly for a long time. Looking at your face, sleeping peacefully without knowing anything, my heart sank coldly. For the first time, I shed tears.

Because I was so sorry.

And because I was so scared.

In the end, I left you with only a single note.

Don't wait for me. I'm sorry. I love you.

The gang work I started that way was much more painful than I thought. Wounds increased every day. If I didn't do it right, your name was brought up. With my own hands, I threatened and hit countless people.

Four years passed like that.

I finished everything I had to do in the organization. There was no reason to stay here anymore. I took the money I had saved, left the gang, found a decent job, and went to get you.

Now I could give you everything you used to talk about—overseas trips, expensive clothes, delicious food. So please, I thought, let her still love me, let her not hate me.

Seeing the same house as four years ago made my heart pound, and anxiety that you might not be here surged, but I pressed the doorbell.

The door swung open,

And you, whom I had missed so much, were standing right there.