The extension that Chairman Han had insisted Youn-Jae spend in America had finally come to an end. Although he had enjoyed moments with friends, the weight of responsibility loomed heavily in the back of his mind. He knew he had no choice but to comply with his father’s orders. Now, he sat in the VIP lounge at the airport, his expression unreadable as he stared out at the bustling runway, a distant look in his eyes that betrayed his inner turmoil.
Beside him, Secretary Min was absorbed in his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard as he juggled various tasks, the rhythmic clicking echoing the urgency of their situation. Youn-Jae's phone buzzed incessantly, each call and notification momentarily pulling him back into the world of business and obligatory social exchanges he was growing weary of.
Every now and then, he cast a fleeting glance at the large screen displaying flight information, the flickering text reminding him of his imminent departure. He tapped his fingers restlessly against his knee, the subtle gesture betraying his impatience. With each passing minute, it felt as if another weight had been added to the heaviness in his chest—a quiet, unarticulated longing that gnawed at him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? We are now beginning the boarding process for Flight 401 with service to Frankfurt. We would like to invite our First Class and Business Class passengers, as well as our priority members, to board at this time."
The announcement sliced through the air, and a sense of finality settled over Youn-Jae. He rose, his posture rigid, and made his way through the jet bridge onto the plane, Secretary Min following closely behind. They exchanged brief nods with the flight attendants as they entered the aircraft, the calm ambiance of the business class cabin offering a momentary refuge from the storm brewing inside him.
Youn-Jae settled into his window seat, adjusting the backrest as he placed his carry-on neatly in the overhead compartment. A tired sigh escaped his lips as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment of respite. The hum of passengers settling in, the rustling of luggage, and the muffled announcements faded into the background as he sought to clear his mind, but a sense of foreboding lingered.
Across the aisle, Secretary Min took his seat, already engrossed in his tablet, reviewing documents for their upcoming meetings. Youn-Jae, however, remained still, allowing the gentle hum of the plane's engines to wash over him. He glanced briefly out the window at the runway, then closed his eyes again, savoring the fleeting tranquility before takeoff.
As the plane began to taxi, Secretary Min murmured to himself, loud enough for Youn-Jae to catch, “Oh, the university sent a follow-up email.” The urgency in his voice was like a pebble thrown into Youn-Jae's calm waters, breaking the surface tension.
Youn-Jae, still resting with his eyes closed, opened them slightly, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, a faint echo of the tension that had gripped him.
“Sorry to disturb your rest, President,” Secretary Min replied, sensing the shift in Youn-Jae's demeanor.
“It’s okay,” Youn-Jae said, his voice calm yet distant as he turned his head back toward the window, unwilling to engage in more business talk. He craved a moment of quiet, a fleeting escape from the demands of his life.
With a soft sigh, Secretary Min returned to his task, scrolling through meticulously organized files sent by the university. The documents contained photographs, personal information, and academic backgrounds of each student. Under Youn-Jae's directive, the list also included students who hadn’t made it into the program, as long as they pursued arts courses.
As he continued to scan the profiles, a particular face caught his eye—familiar yet unexpected. Secretary Min paused, confusion knitting his brows together. At first, he dismissed it as mere resemblance, but the more he scrutinized the details, the clearer it became. His pulse quickened as he realized the significance of what he was seeing; this familiar face was not a coincidence but a connection to something—or someone—important to Youn-Jae.
“President, please, you need to take a look at this. The university sent another revised final list,” Secretary Min urged, his voice trembling slightly with urgency.
Youn-Jae, still weary from the events of the past week, let out a tired sigh. He rubbed his temples, his patience wearing thin. “What is it? Just handle it when we get to Germany,” he replied dismissively, frustration lacing his voice.
But Secretary Min remained resolute. “No, President,” he insisted, urgency creeping into his tone. “You need to check this out right now.”
With a reluctant sigh, Youn-Jae snatched the tablet from Secretary Min’s hands. His eyes darted across the screen, and the moment his gaze landed on the familiar face in the document, all color drained from his face. The usual composure melted away, leaving a void where emotion once thrived. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, the rhythm echoing the deep hum of the airplane now taxiing on the runway.
A cold wave washed over him, his body tensing as he felt an icy grip of dread tighten around his chest. His pulse throbbed in his ears, and he swallowed hard, his throat dry. The enormity of the moment crashed over him like a rogue wave, threatening to drag him under. Youn-Jae clenched the edge of the tablet, his grip tightening as if he could physically hold together the pieces of his fractured resolve. He realized he was at the precipice of another uphill battle—one that would demand more strength than he believed he had left.
In a panic, his breathing grew ragged as he suddenly stood, fear and desperation etched across his features. “I have to get off the plane!” he shouted, his voice cracking with urgency as he stumbled toward the door.
“President, sit down!” Secretary Min’s voice sliced through the chaos, sharp and urgent as he lunged forward, grabbing Youn-Jae’s arm to prevent him from moving further. Alarm flashed across Secretary Min's usually composed face, revealing a mix of concern and determination. “Come to your senses—we’re already taking off!”
“No, tell them to turn back! We need to go to Korea now!” Youn-Jae's voice was frantic, his eyes wild and unseeing as he gripped the seatback in front of him, knuckles white, desperately trying to anchor himself to reality.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Calm down! You’re not the only passenger here!” Secretary Min's voice remained firm yet soothing, attempting to pierce through Youn-Jae’s spiraling hysteria. He gently guided Youn-Jae back to his seat with a steady hand, masking his own worry behind a façade of professionalism.
“I need to go to Korea!” Youn-Jae's voice trembled with desperation, body quaking as he sank back into his seat, mind racing with the implications of what he had just seen. His gaze turned distant, unfocused, as he wrestled with the chaos inside him.
“I know,” Secretary Min said softly, his voice steady yet sympathetic. “But we’re already too high in the air. Let’s settle in Germany first, and then we can arrange a flight to Korea. Just hold on until then.”
Youn-Jae slumped in his seat, face buried in his hands as the weight of the situation crashed over him. The harsh reality of his predicament settled in, leaving him feeling utterly helpless. He could only nod weakly, overwhelmed by urgency and dread. The world outside the plane blurred into insignificance as he fought against the profound sense of loss, fear, and impending doom that had overtaken him.
***
As the plane touched down on the tarmac at Frankfurt Airport, Youn-Jae’s mind was a whirlwind of urgency and dread. His heart pounded as if in sync with the plane's deceleration, each beat heavier than the last. Every second felt agonizingly slow, the gravity of his thoughts pulling him down into an overwhelming sea of anxiety.
“Let’s hurry,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low but strained with desperation. He stood before the seatbelt sign dimmed, his movements sharp and urgent. Secretary Min shot him a concerned glance but said nothing, hastening to keep pace. Youn-Jae’s posture was rigid, shoulders tense, his jaw clenched so tightly that it ached. His eyes flickered with the urgency of someone on the edge of unraveling.
Through customs and immigration, Youn-Jae barely acknowledged the process. The usual small talk from officers and the ambient noise of the airport faded into nothingness. His focus was singular—he had to return to Korea, and every second spent here felt like an unbearable delay. His fingers twitched restlessly at his sides, the need to act pressing against the confines of his body.
As they reached the terminal, Youn-Jae’s gaze locked onto the departure board with a burning intensity. His eyes scanned the flickering flight numbers as though his life depended on it, his breath catching every time a Seoul-bound flight appeared. Without a moment's hesitation, he strode toward the ticket counter, his steps quick and purposeful, his chest tight with rising panic.
“I need the earliest flight to Seoul,” he demanded, his voice rough, on the verge of cracking. His fingers gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white, as if anchoring himself from falling apart. The attendant gave him a startled look, noticing the barely contained desperation in his expression, but quickly turned to her computer, typing rapidly.
Youn-Jae tapped his foot impatiently, the rhythmic motion betraying the storm of emotions churning beneath his stoic exterior. He stared at the computer screen, willing it to move faster, each second stretching into agonizing infinity. When the boarding pass was finally handed to him, he snatched it without even glancing at the details. His mind was already racing ahead to what lay before him—the moment he would confront his past.
***
The flight to Seoul felt eternal. Every hum of the engine, every dip in turbulence, grated against his frayed nerves. He sat in his business-class seat, the soft comfort doing nothing to ease the knot of tension coiled inside him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if praying for the hours to pass faster. Sleep was a distant dream; his mind refused to settle, bombarded by images of Ji-Won, of the countless mistakes that led to this.
Each blink brought flashes of memory—Ji-Won’s hurt voice, the coldness with which Youn-Jae had turned his back, the times he forced Ji-Won to have sex with him. Regret gnawed at his insides like a festering wound, growing more unbearable with every minute that passed. He dragged his hands over his face, the roughness of his palms barely grounding him as his heart hammered against his ribs. "What have I done? What if it’s already too late?" The thought lodged itself in his mind, persistent and cruel.
Finally, the plane descended into Seoul. Youn-Jae stood before the seatbelt sign even blinked off, his movements sharp and driven. He practically stumbled off the plane, his limbs feeling numb, his mind racing faster than his legs could carry him. The cold, sterile lights of the airport greeted him, but Youn-Jae moved through it all as though in a haze. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out Secretary Min’s calm, practical words.
“It’s really late now, President. I’ll bring you to the University tomorrow. You need rest.” Secretary Min’s voice was soft but firm, his expression cautious, trying to shield his superior from further exhaustion.
But Youn-Jae didn’t respond. His gaze was vacant, his face pale, his jaw locked as he stepped outside into the cool night air. The chill bit at his skin, but it did nothing to clear the suffocating fog in his mind. His footsteps felt heavy as though every step was a march toward his own undoing.
He said nothing, only nodding faintly at Secretary Min’s suggestion, though he had no intention of resting. His body moved on autopilot, but his mind was trapped—stuck replaying every bitter moment between him and Ji-Won. His hand twitched, fingers curling into fists at his sides as he remembered their last fight, the anger and hurt he had caused. The cold weight of guilt sank into his chest, spreading through him like toxin.
The thought of facing Ji-Won again sent a cold shiver down his spine. His throat tightened, his breath uneven as flashes of Ji-Won’s face filled his mind—anguish, disappointment, and the silent plea in his eyes. “You were here—right here—the answer to everything I’ve ever wanted. How could I have been so blind? How could I have pushed you away?” Youn-Jae clenched his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. The pain did little to distract from the self-loathing that burned inside him. Every fiber of his being ached with regret, a deep, hollow pit forming in his chest. If only he could turn back time, take back the hurtful words, the distance he had created between them. The ache of what could never be undone suffocated him.
He swallowed hard, trying to force the rising tide of emotion back down, but it was futile. His heart felt like it was being squeezed, each beat labored and painful. "What if he never forgives me? “The thought stabbed through him again, a cold and relentless reminder of the damage he had done.
As the car moved through the dimly lit streets of Seoul, Youn-Jae’s eyes were unfocused, his vision blurred by the whirlwind of thoughts crashing through his mind. The lights outside the window flickered past, but he saw none of it—only the painful memories and the uncertain future looming before him.
He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, closing his eyes as a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. His chest tightened with every breath, the weight of his own guilt crushing him from the inside. How would he ever make things right? How could he repair the damage when he wasn’t sure there was anything left to save?
The thought of seeing Ji-Won—of the possibility that he might never be forgiven—sent a tremor of fear through him. His breathing became shallow, his hands trembling as they rested in his lap. Youn-Jae didn’t know how to face the storm he had created, but he knew one thing: he needed to see Ji-Won, to apologize, to try and fix the pieces of their shattered relationship—even if it broke him in the process.
The story doesn't end here......