Four years had passed since Kang Min-jae left home, vanishing without a trace. To his family, it was as if he had been swallowed by the earth. There were no calls, no letters, no updates—nothing. The once spoiled, overindulged heir to the Kang chaebol empire had cut all ties with his past, disappearing into the unknown. For his family, this disappearance was a source of frustration, confusion, and mounting concern.
Kang Tae-hyun, Min-jae's domineering father, was furious. At first, he had assumed his son would come crawling back after a few months, exhausted from his tantrum, desperate for the comforts of home and the wealth that sustained him. But Min-jae didn't return. Months turned into years, and still, there was no word. Tae-hyun's frustration grew, mingled with a grudging sense of unease. Where was Min-jae? What was he doing?
Surely, Tae-hyun thought, his useless son must be wasting his time somewhere in the world. Partying, indulging in vices, and burning through what little money he had left. Min-jae had always been reckless, always dependent on the family's wealth to clean up his messes. Tae-hyun had no faith that his son could survive on his own for this long, let alone thrive. It didn't make sense.
Eventually, his frustration gave way to action. Tae-hyun hired private investigators to locate his son. The Kangs were too prominent, too powerful, to simply let an heir vanish without answers. The investigators combed through financial records, flight logs, and old acquaintances. They traced the places Min-jae had visited in the weeks leading up to his departure, but every lead ended in a dead end. Min-jae had been thorough in cutting ties and erasing his trail.
The investigators continued their search for months, but all they could uncover were faint traces of Min-jae's movements in the United States. It appeared he had settled there, but nothing concrete came to light. Tae-hyun seethed at the lack of answers, while Kang Ji-yoon, Min-jae's mother, grew quietly distraught. She missed her son terribly, though she never spoke her fears aloud. She worried about him constantly, wondering if he was struggling, if he was safe, if he even thought of them anymore.
Meanwhile, Soo-bin, Min-jae's younger sister, alternated between frustration and curiosity. Her sharp tongue belied a deep worry for her brother. She couldn't reconcile the Min-jae she remembered—lazy, entitled, and utterly dependent—with the one who had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. What had happened to him? And why had he gone to such lengths to leave them behind?
What none of them knew was that Min-jae had not only survived but thrived in the United States. Over the past four years, he had become a completely different person. He had thrown away everything that tied him to his old life—his habits, his vices, even his nationality. Early in his time in America, Min-jae made a decision that shocked even himself: he applied for and obtained American citizenship, severing his ties to South Korea entirely. He renounced his South Korean citizenship, a symbolic act of erasing the person he had been. The Kangs' chaebol empire, his family, his roots—they were nothing to him now.
To Min-jae, it was a necessary step in his transformation. South Korea represented everything he had once been: weak, spoiled, and dependent. America, with its promises of reinvention, had given him the blank slate he needed. Here, he had no ties, no expectations, and no one to remind him of his failures.
He hadn't just changed on paper. Physically, emotionally, and mentally, he was unrecognizable. The overweight, self-indulgent playboy was gone, replaced by a lean, sharp, and disciplined man. His suits fit perfectly now, tailored to a body that had been honed through years of late-night gym sessions and relentless self-discipline. His demeanor was cold, his expressions measured, his presence commanding.
He had built a life for himself that no longer depended on anyone. He had his career at Goldman Sachs, his PhD in economics, and his independence. His days were filled with work, research, and self-improvement, leaving no time for anything—or anyone—else. The memories of his family and his old life were buried deep, locked away in a corner of his mind he refused to revisit.
But no matter how far he ran, there were moments when the past crept in. Late at night, after exhausting himself with work and workouts, Min-jae would lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling. He would think of his mother's gentle voice, his sister's teasing remarks, and his father's cold but unyielding presence. Most of all, he would think of Seo-jin. The woman who had shattered him, who had pushed him to become the man he was today. Her face haunted him still, a reminder of everything he had once been—and everything he had lost.
He told himself it didn't matter. He told himself he was better off without them all. And yet, in the quiet moments, he couldn't help but wonder if he had truly left them behind—or if he was still running from the shadow of his old self, a shadow that stretched across the ocean, reaching for him no matter how far he went.