The grand chandeliers in the Kang family mansion cast a dim glow over the sprawling estate, and yet, none of it seemed to matter to Kang Min-jae. The luxurious scent of fine cigars and aged whiskey filled the air, but Min-jae was unmoved, lounging on a leather sofa with a drink in hand. His eyes, half-lidded, scanned the latest gossip on his phone—nothing of substance, just the usual parade of meaningless images and self-congratulatory posts. Life was good, or at least that was what he told himself.

At 22, Min-jae had everything a person could dream of—wealth, status, the freedom to do as he pleased—but none of it satisfied him. He was the heir to one of Korea's most powerful chaebols, a family empire built on decades of influence and money. But all Min-jae could focus on was the pit of emptiness inside him, one that never seemed to fill no matter how much he ate, drank, or spent.

Today, however, was different. Min-jae had arranged to meet his fiancée, Yoo Seo-jin, the daughter of another powerful family, but something about the occasion had him restless. Seo-jin was beautiful, sharp, and undoubtedly ambitious—everything Min-jae wasn't. She had always tolerated him, never more than that. He had long believed her coldness was just part of her stoic, serious nature. But deep down, he suspected that she had grown weary of him.

The clock ticked loudly, counting down the minutes until the meeting, and Min-jae glanced at his reflection in the polished glass. He wasn't proud of the image staring back at him—he was obese, disheveled, and far from the image of a successful heir. His face was soft, his clothes ill-fitting. He had never been one for self-discipline. There was no reason to try. Not when everything had always been handed to him.

But deep down, he knew something was missing. Something was terribly wrong.

When Seo-jin arrived, her presence was as commanding as always. She was dressed in a perfectly tailored dress, her hair sleek and impeccable, a picture of elegance. She took a seat across from Min-jae, her eyes scanning him with a slight narrowing, as if she were taking stock of him in a way that made him uncomfortable.

"Min-jae," she began, her voice calm but laced with an edge. "We need to talk."

He tried to smile, but it faltered under the weight of her stare. "Of course, Seo-jin. What's on your mind?"

Seo-jin didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You're an embarrassment, Min-jae. To your family, to me, to yourself." She didn't flinch as she spoke, her words sharp and precise. "Do you know how many times I've had to pretend that everything is fine? How many times I've smiled and nodded while you squander away everything your family has worked for? You don't deserve me. You don't deserve any of this."

Min-jae's breath caught in his throat. He could feel his pulse racing, his body tensing as her words landed like blows. It was always like this with her—cold, distant, judgmental. But never before had she been so harsh, so direct.

"I—" He opened his mouth, but the words didn't come out. What could he say? He knew she was right.

"I'm breaking off the engagement," Seo-jin continued, her tone unwavering. "I can't stand by someone who refuses to take responsibility for anything. You've made a fool of me and yourself. You're lazy, entitled, and completely useless."

Her words cut deeper than anything he had ever experienced. Min-jae sat there, frozen, as the reality of her words sank in. This was happening. The girl he had adored, the one he had imagined his life with, was ending everything. The one connection he had to any sense of meaning in his world was being severed before his eyes.

"I never loved you," she said softly, her gaze softening but not out of sympathy—out of cold acceptance. "I was always forced into this. But now... I can finally be free."

With that, she stood up, her chair scraping across the floor, and turned to leave, not waiting for a response.

Min-jae remained motionless, his fingers gripping the glass of whiskey until his knuckles turned white. He couldn't even bring himself to drink it. The emptiness inside him felt like it was consuming him, suffocating him, leaving him with nothing but a cold void.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Min-jae felt the weight of his failure settle in like a heavy shroud. His world, which had once seemed so perfect, now seemed so hollow.

He was nothing.

The next few days blurred together in a haze of alcohol and self-loathing. Min-jae couldn't face his family, not after what had happened. His father, who had always expected him to be the one to carry the family's legacy, had never been more disappointed in him. His mother, though always supportive, seemed to sense the change in him, and for once, Min-jae didn't care to mask his misery.

In the solitude of his room, Min-jae did the one thing he could do. He ate. He drank. He indulged in every vice he could think of, hoping that somehow, they would numb the pain. But nothing worked.

It was only when he woke up in a haze of regret, surrounded by empty bottles, that he realized he couldn't go on like this. The woman he loved had rejected him. His family had lost all faith in him. He was nothing more than a spoiled, useless heir, a failure in every sense of the word.

But deep inside, a spark of something more stirred.

"I can't stay like this," he muttered to himself. He looked at his reflection again, but this time, something different burned in his eyes. The anger, the shame—it was all there. And it was time to change.

Min-jae made a decision. He would leave. He would disappear from Korea, from his family, and from the life that had been forced upon him. He would find a way to prove to himself that he wasn't the worthless, self-indulgent playboy his fiancée had condemned him to be.

It was time to get serious.