The Kang family's private lounge was a masterpiece of modern luxury. Its low-lit ambiance, the clink of expensive crystal glasses, and the faint scent of polished mahogany gave the space an aura of exclusivity. The centerpiece of the room—a marble table adorned with bottles of aged whiskey—was a deliberate addition, one that had once catered to Kang Min-jae's old indulgences.
Yoo Seo-jin sat stiffly in her chair, her polished demeanor slipping slightly as she watched Min-jae from across the table. She had been dragged into this meeting by her father, who was growing desperate to repair relations with the Kang family. But the man sitting across from her now bore little resemblance to the Min-jae she had known.
He lounged in his chair, legs crossed, his sleek black suit fitting perfectly over his sculpted frame. He radiated confidence, but it was cold, detached. His dark eyes flickered to the tray of whiskeys briefly before returning to the phone in his hand. He didn't even acknowledge her presence beyond a quick glance when they were locked in the room.
"You used to love whiskey," Seo-jin said, breaking the suffocating silence. Her voice was carefully measured, though tinged with an edge of disbelief. "Especially Macallan. Isn't that your favorite?"
Min-jae didn't look up. "Not anymore," he said flatly, scrolling through something on his phone.
The servant had poured two glasses of whiskey—the amber liquid gleaming temptingly in the soft light. Seo-jin watched him closely, waiting for him to reach for the glass. He didn't.
"You don't drink now?" she pressed, unable to contain her curiosity.
"No," he replied, his voice devoid of emotion. He didn't offer an explanation, and the conversation hit a dead end.
Seo-jin frowned, feeling an unfamiliar sense of frustration. "Is there anything you do for fun these days?"
This time, Min-jae looked up, his sharp gaze cutting through her like a blade. "Define fun," he said, his tone cool and dismissive.
The tension in the room was palpable.
Seo-jin shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had walked into this meeting expecting awkwardness, maybe even tension, but not this. Not this version of Min-jae who sat silently, exuding an unshakable calm and an almost unnerving indifference.
"Why are you even here?" she asked, a flicker of irritation creeping into her voice. "If you clearly don't want to be."
Min-jae leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. "I'm here because my father locked the door," he said simply, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk.
Seo-jin blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. This wasn't the same man who had once doted on her, hung on her every word, and bent over backward to please her. This man… this man couldn't care less.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Min-jae returned his attention to his phone, scrolling through emails and messages, completely unbothered. It was as if she wasn't even in the room.
Seo-jin tried to compose herself, taking a sip of the whiskey in front of her to steady her nerves. She had known he had changed—his transformation had been impossible to ignore. But sitting here with him now, she realized just how far removed he was from the Min-jae she had rejected.
"Do you even care about this meeting?" she asked finally, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice.
"No," he replied without hesitation, his tone so casual it stung.
Seo-jin stared at him, her mind reeling. She had once been the center of his world, the one person who could make him falter. And now? Now she didn't even register.
"Then why are you sitting here?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
"To kill time," he said matter-of-factly, his gaze still fixed on his phone. "That's all this is to me."
His words hung in the air like a slap to the face.
Seo-jin opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. What could she possibly say to someone who clearly didn't care?
The clock ticked on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Min-jae's calm demeanor never wavered, his indifference unshakable.
Three hours later, the lock on the door clicked, and Min-jae rose from his chair without a word. He straightened his suit jacket, pocketed his phone, and walked out, leaving Seo-jin alone in the lounge, her thoughts swirling and her pride in tatters.
As the door closed behind him, Seo-jin realized with a sinking feeling that she was no longer the one in control. Kang Min-jae was. And he had no intention of letting her—or anyone—dictate his life ever again.