C H A P T E R F I F T E E N :
"Sometimes, memories come back when you least expect them."
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The rain hammered against the café windows, distorting the neon lights of the streets. The city was alive, but inside, it felt like the world had come to a standstill. Yi-Seo sat across from Sang-woo, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long gone cold. She could barely feel the ceramic against her fingertips. Maybe she had gone numb. Maybe she had been numb for a while.

The silence between them was unbearable. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one raging in her chest.

Sang-woo sat stiffly, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against the table before he clasped them together, as if forcing himself to stay composed. Finally, he spoke.

"This is the right thing to do," he said, his voice even, controlled—like this was just another business deal, another calculated decision.

Yi-Seo let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking her head. "The right thing?" Her voice wavered, betraying the fury bubbling beneath the surface. "For who, exactly? You?"

Sang-woo exhaled through his nose, his eyes dark and unreadable. "For both of us."

Her fingers clenched around her cup. "Don't do that," she snapped. "Don't make this sound noble, like you're doing me some kind of favor."

"I'm being realistic," he replied, his tone frustratingly calm.

"No," she shot back, her voice rising. "You're being a coward."

Sang-woo's jaw tightened. "Yi-Seo—"

"No, don't Yi-Seo me," she interrupted, leaning forward, her voice shaking. "We fought for everything together. You and me, remember? All those nights we spent planning for the future, telling each other we'd make it, no matter what? And now that you finally have a way up, I'm just... collateral damage?"

Sang-woo didn't immediately answer. His fingers curled into fists on the table.

"Say something," she demanded, her breath shallow. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me this isn't just you choosing yourself over me."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "It's not that simple."

Yi-Seo scoffed, leaning back, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as if holding herself together. "It is that simple. You've already made your choice, haven't you?"

Sang-woo exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief second. When he opened them, they were colder. Distant.

"I have to survive," he said finally.

Yi-Seo sucked in a breath as if he had physically struck her.

Survive.

That word. The way he said it.

As if she was something that would get in the way of it. As if love—their love—wasn't something worth fighting for anymore.

Her throat tightened. "And I don't fit into that, do I?"

His silence was deafening.

She felt the weight of it press against her chest, suffocating.

"Sang-woo," her voice was barely above a whisper now, fragile and cracking. "I was willing to fight for us. I would've waited. I would've gone through hell if it meant we'd come out of this together." She let out a shaky breath. "But you didn't even give me that choice."

Sang-woo's fingers dug into his palms, his entire body rigid. He wasn't looking at her now—he was staring at the table, at the tiny water rings forming beneath his untouched coffee.

"I don't want you to wait for me," he murmured.

Yi-Seo let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "You really think I can just walk away from this? From you?"

His gaze flickered to hers then, just for a second. And for the first time that night, she saw it—the hesitation, the guilt, the war waging inside him.

But then, just as quickly, it was gone. His expression hardened, his walls slamming back into place.

"You should," he said simply.

Yi-Seo's breath hitched.

That was it.

No fight. No grand gestures. No desperate plea to stay.

Just this.

A cold, final should.

She should have begged him to stay. She should have reminded him of all the promises they made, the late-night whispers, the quiet moments where love felt unshakable.

But she didn't.

Instead, she slowly pushed back her chair, the scrape of wood against the floor cutting through the silence like a blade. She stood up, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her.

"Good luck surviving, Sang-woo," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with all the heartbreak she couldn't put into words.

She turned before he could see the tears threatening to spill, before he could see how much she had wanted him to fight for them.

And as she stepped out into the storm, the rain mixing with the heat of her tears, she didn't look back.

If he wasn't going to fight for them—then she wouldn't, either.

    Yi-Seo sat on the steps, her arms wrapped around herself. The air was thick, suffocating, yet she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the past, replaying a memory she wished she could forget but knew she never would.

Their argument had felt too familiar, too much like the one that ended it all—the night Sang-woo walked away, leaving behind nothing but silence and shattered promises. She told herself she was fine, that she could brush it off like she had before, but her body betrayed her. Her fingers trembled against her knee, and her leg bounced restlessly, unable to find stillness.

She pressed a hand against her temple, as if she could will away the flood of emotions crashing against her ribs. But her mind wouldn't rest.

The kiss they had shared just nights ago—was it a mistake? Or was it proof that, no matter how much she tried to sever the past, some things refused to be cut clean? Had she forgiven him too easily, let him slip back into the cracks of her heart like he had never left?

And yet, despite it all, despite Sang-woo and the weight of old wounds reopening, her thoughts weren't just on him.

Gi-hun.

Her friend, her worry, the ache of knowing she couldn't do more for him. The image of his desperate face, the helplessness in his eyes—it clung to her, like a knife being twisted in her.

All of a sudden, more footsteps were heard. She looked up and saw Gi-hun. She quickly got up, standing where Ali and Sang-woo were at.

"Gi-hun." She said in relief and gave him a hug. "I'm so sorry." She whispered.

Gi-hun shook his head, "It's okay Yoonie. It's not like you were 100% sure." He hugged her back.

As the two best friends gave each other a hug, Yi-Seo could feel Sang-woo's burning glare. Yi-Seo shrugged it off and let go of Gi-hun.

"I'm glad you made it out alive." Ali said. "It must've been tough having to carve the umbrella."

"Did you think I would die that easily? I'm Seong Gi-hun of Ssamgum-dong." He smiled.

"Old sir, are you all right?" Ali asked the old man

"Yes, I'm fine." He responded, "It's all thanks to him." He patted on Gi-hun's shoulder

"I'm sorry." Sang-woo looked at Gi-hun. "I shouldn't have said we should split up."

Gi-hun looked at Sang-woo, hesitating to say something but then decided to say something else. "Don't say that. It's not like you knew. Besides, I chose the umbrella myself. It's okay." He patted Sang-woo's back.

"I'm glad everyone is fine." Sang-woo gave them a small smile.

The monitor suddenly spoke up.

"We will now announce the results of the second game." The number of players on the board went down but the money went up. The lights went dim, showing the piggy bank. "Out of one hundred eighty seven players, seventy-nine have been eliminated." Money began to fill up the big bank. "Seven point nine billion won has been accumulated in this round. The prize money accumulated so far is thirty-four point eight billion won."

—-

Yi-Seo waited in line since it was dinner time. She glanced over someone's shoulder and saw that the guards were giving every player a boiled egg and a soda.

"I wonder why they're giving us less food." Yi-Seo told Gi-hun.

"Really?" Gi-hun looked up front seeing it was true.

Once the brunette grabbed her food. She went back to the same spot from earlier, seeing the old man, Ali, and Sang-woo already seated. Yi-Seo walked past Sang-woo, ignoring him and sat by the old man.

She looked at the boiled in disgust, not in favor of eating this. But considering there was nothing else, she cracked the egg. As she was peeling her egg, she noticed the old man, his frail hands trembled as he struggled to peel his own egg, his fingers fumbling to grasp the slippery shell.

Yi-Seo hesitated for a moment before extending her peeled egg to him with a warm smile.

"Sir, here. Take mine."

The old man looked up, his eyes soft with surprise. For a moment, he just stared at her, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his gaze. Then, a small, grateful smile lifted his lips as he gently took the egg from her hands.

"Oh, thank you, dear." His voice was warm but weak, as if even speaking took effort. "You didn't have to do that."

Yi-Seo shook her head, offering him a reassuring nod. "It's no trouble."

The old man chuckled softly. "You're very considerate of others around you" he mused. "Most young people wouldn't help an elderly out anymore."

"I've always been like that from a very young age. Being an older sister was basically being a second mom." Yi-Seo chuckled. "For these past few years, I've been looking after my mom and sister."

"You always put others first, don't you?" The old man spoke as if were some wisemen.

Yi-Seo hesitated, then shrugged. "It's not a bad thing."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But I hope you someone's looking out for you, too."

She faltered for a moment, her fingers slowing as she peeled the last bit of shell away. Then, she forced a smirk. "Well, I won't hold my breath."

The old man studied her for a moment before simply saying, "The world has a way of surprising us."

"If that's true, I'm still waiting for my surprise."

"Maybe it's already closer than you think."

Yi-Seo looked at him, his words settling into the quiet spaces of her mind, lingering longer than she expected. There was something about the way he spoke—gentle, knowing, as if he understood more than he let on.

For the first time, she truly looked at him. Her gaze met his eyes, aged yet warm, held a softness. There was no judgment in them, no expectations—just quiet understanding. His smile was genuine.

And somehow, it was exactly what she needed at this moment.

Yet, as she studied his face, a strange familiarity tugged at the edges of her mind. It was faint, elusive—like trying to grasp a memory just out of reach. She had seen him before, she was sure of it. Not here, not in this place, but somewhere in the life she had before.

Before everything fell apart.

Her brows furrowed slightly, but no matter how hard she tried to place him, the memory refused to come. The thought unsettled her, but before she could dwell on it any longer, the old man let out a quiet chuckle.

"Lost in thought?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Yi-Seo blinked, shaking herself from her daze. "Yeah," she murmured, offering a small, almost embarrassed smile. "I guess I am."

The old man's smile deepened, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. But instead of pressing further, he simply nodded.

"Sometimes, memories come back when you least expect them," he said. "No need to force it."

Yi-Seo exhaled softly, nodding as she tucked the thought away—for now.

words from the author:
Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :)

Should flashbacks be written in the same chapter or as a separate chapter? Let me know! 😭🙏🏻