The lights of Seoul blurred together as Kang Jae-Min sped through the streets in his black Maserati. The engine roared as he pushed the car harder, weaving recklessly through traffic. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore.

His father’s words from the night before echoed in his mind:
“Don’t ruin it.”

And Soo-Ah’s, sharper and more vicious:
“You’re insufferable… lazy, spoiled, disgusting.”

Her voice wouldn’t leave him. No matter how loud the music blaring from the car speakers was, no matter how much he drank to drown it out.

By the time he arrived at one of his favorite clubs, he had lost count of how much alcohol he’d consumed. But it didn’t matter. The bouncers waved him in without a second glance, as they always did. Inside, the music thumped like a heartbeat, the air thick with smoke and perfume.

Jae-Min slipped into the VIP section, where his usual crowd of hangers-on greeted him with cheers and playful insults. They were the same people who laughed at his jokes and flattered his ego, people who never said no because they knew who he was.

But tonight, Jae-Min didn’t feel like laughing. He slumped into the plush leather seat, a bottle of the club’s most expensive whiskey placed in front of him before he even had to ask.

“Rough night?” one girl asked, sliding closer to him. Her hand rested on his arm, but her touch felt distant, almost hollow.

Jae-Min ignored her. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp, the burn doing little to chase away the cold pit in his stomach.

The hours passed in a blur of alcohol, flashing lights, and meaningless conversations. He danced with strangers, smiled at their compliments, and pretended he wasn’t falling apart inside. But when the night ended and the crowd thinned, he was still alone.

Jae-Min stumbled into his penthouse apartment before dawn, his tie loose around his neck and his jacket long discarded. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his uneven breathing.

He collapsed onto the leather couch, his head in his hands. For the first time, he let himself think about what had happened.

The engagement was over. Soo-Ah, the woman he had adored and placed on a pedestal, hated him. Truly hated him. Her words had been sharp and deliberate, cutting him down to the very core of who he was. And the worst part? She was right.

He was insufferable. He was lazy. He was everything she said he was.

A laugh escaped him, bitter and hollow. He looked around the apartment, at the shelves lined with designer watches, the expensive art on the walls, and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. It all felt meaningless now, like a gilded cage.

On a whim, he stood up and walked to his study. He pushed past the untouched shelves of books he had purchased only for appearances and found the small drawer he hadn’t opened in years. Inside was a bottle of sleeping pills.

Jae-Min sat on the floor, the bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He stared at them for what felt like hours, his mind a storm of regret, shame, and anger.

Is this what it had come to? Had he really fallen so far?

The thought of Soo-Ah’s disgusted face flashed in his mind, and his chest tightened. He imagined her finding out he had given up, and the thought made him sick. She didn’t deserve that satisfaction.

With a growl, Jae-Min threw the bottle across the room. It shattered against the wall, the pills scattering like dust.

He wouldn’t end it. Not like this.

If he was going to suffer, it wouldn’t be by taking the easy way out. No, he would live. He would live in a way that would make her words haunt him every day. He would punish himself by becoming the very thing she thought he could never be.

With a newfound resolve, Jae-Min stood up and walked to the mirror. He barely recognized the man staring back at him: bloated, unshaven, his once-pristine tuxedo wrinkled and stained. He hated what he saw.

“This is the last time,” he muttered to himself, his voice trembling. “The last time you’ll ever look like this.”

The next morning, Jae-Min called his father’s secretary and informed her he was leaving the country.

“Is there a reason, sir?” Politely, but with surprise in her tone, she asked.

“Personal reasons,” Jae-Min said curtly.

By the end of the day, he had booked a one-way ticket to the United States. He left his luxury car, his designer wardrobe, and every reminder of his old life behind. All he took with him were a few basic clothes, his passport, and a fire that burned deeper than any he had felt before.

For the first time in his life, Kang Jae-Min was truly on his own. And for the first time, he was determined to become something greater—or die trying.