The morning light seeped through the heavy curtains in Min-jae's room, but he paid it no mind. His desk was neatly organized, papers stacked in precise piles, and his laptop screen glowed with graphs, charts, and reports. It was Saturday, but weekends held no significance for him anymore. They were simply days where meetings slowed down, and he could get more uninterrupted work done.
Min-jae adjusted his chair, sitting upright as he reviewed the latest market trends for the Kang Group's investment division. He scribbled notes in his leather-bound journal, the lines sharp and clean, his penmanship a reflection of the order he imposed on his life. He hadn't even left his room for lunch, subsisting instead on a protein bar and water he kept on his desk.
The house buzzed faintly with the presence of his family. He could hear Soo-bin's voice faintly in the distance, her laughter trailing through the halls, and the occasional sound of his parents moving about. But Min-jae had no intention of joining them. The thought of sitting at the dining table, pretending to engage in polite conversation, was exhausting.
By the time the afternoon rolled into evening, Min-jae leaned back in his chair and closed his laptop. The room felt stifling despite the pristine organization. He had been cooped up for too long, and his body craved movement. He changed into his running gear, slipped on his shoes, and left the house silently.
The park near the Kang estate was a sprawling expanse of greenery, surrounded by towering trees and winding trails. The air was crisp as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Min-jae started with a brisk jog, his breath measured and steady, his muscles warming up to the familiar rhythm.
He increased his pace, letting his feet pound against the pavement, his body pushing forward with each stride. Running had become his escape, a way to clear his mind when the weight of his existence became too much. He didn't run for fitness alone—it was his way of outrunning his past, his guilt, and the constant ache he felt whenever he thought about what he had left behind.
The park wasn't crowded, which suited him perfectly. A few couples strolled along the paths, and the occasional dog walker passed by, but he barely noticed them. His focus was entirely inward, the rhythm of his breathing and the thud of his shoes against the ground grounding him in the present.
As he rounded a corner, he caught sight of a small clearing with a bench overlooking a tranquil pond. He slowed to a stop, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. For a moment, he stood there, staring at the water as the last rays of sunlight danced across its surface.
He thought about the years he spent running—literally and metaphorically. He thought about the suffocating house he had returned to, the family he had grown apart from, and the ex-fiancée who had triggered it all. He thought about the man he had become and whether it was truly who he wanted to be or just another mask to cope with his pain.
The distant sound of laughter brought him out of his thoughts. He turned away from the pond and resumed his run, pushing himself harder this time. By the time he returned home, his body was drenched in sweat, his muscles aching, but his mind was quieter.
As he walked up the steps to the house, the stillness of the evening greeted him. Without a word to anyone, he headed to his room, showered, and returned to his desk. There was always more work to do, and the more he worked, the less he had to think.