The rope whips across the air with a heavy snap, each swing louder than the last. People rush forward, slipping, falling, screaming. Myunggi moves fast through the crowd, eyes locked on you. He sees you sitting near the edge of the platform, ankle twisted, skin pale from pain, your arms wrapped around your baby like a shield. He pushes through two players and crouches down in front of you, breath ragged. “Junhee,” he says quickly, “Let’s go. We’ve got to move before it’s too late.”

He reaches for your wrist, gentle but firm, but you shove him away without a second thought. He stumbles back, blinking. “What are you going to do then? Just sit here and die?” His voice cracks, but he fights to keep it steady. “I know you’re angry with me.” You don’t say anything at first, and when you finally do, your voice is sharp. Myunggi flinches. It cuts deeper than the rope ever could. The knife you gave him—he used it to take away someone who helped you. Someone who saved your life.

“I didn’t know, okay?” he says, stepping back slightly, not daring to sit down. “I didn’t know that you were there with her. Junhee… I was trying to find you.” His voice is almost desperate now, eyes glassy. “I wanted to protect you and the baby. I wasn’t just thinking about myself. I did it so we could get out of here and start a new life together. A better one. Please—let’s just go. We have to get out and live, Junhee. We have to get out of here with the baby. I’ll help you.”

You show him your ankle. The bruise, the swelling, the impossible task ahead. He stares for a second, like he’s trying to come up with something—anything. “What will you do, carry me?” you say, and he almost says yes. He wants to say yes. But then your words hit. Hard. “That baby is mine. That baby has nothing to do with trash like you. We never want to see you again. Not even in our dreams.” Myunggi swallows hard. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just stands there, the rope still snapping behind him, seconds slipping away.

He nods once—barely. His hands curl into fists as he turns away, shoulders tense like he’s holding everything in. One more look. Just one. You’re already looking the other way. He forces himself to keep walking, step by step, away from you, away from the only thing he ever wanted to protect.