“To the living, we owe them respect. To the dead, we owe them the truth.” -Voltaire

“Hello Ah-in.”

When Yoo Ah-in knocked off from work an hour and a half ago, what the man envisioned himself doing was to enjoy the solace of his empty apartment as he unwind from the stressful day he had at work. There would be Chinese takeouts involved (unless his younger sister had oh-so-kindly prepared him dinner before she went out with her friends for a movie) and a chilled beer in his hand as he watched a rerun of last night’s baseball game.

What the man hadn’t expected, however, was to have a stylish woman (armed with a bold winged liner and killer heels no less) to stand before his door as she waited for him.

Ah-in furrowed his brows as he stared at the woman who was smiling politely at him. She did seem vaguely familiar but he just couldn’t place a finger where he had knew her from.

Chaerin cleared sheepishly, knowing that her appearance had changed drastically since her high school days. Oh, the power of a bold killer wing. “Lee Chaerin. We used to go to highschool together.”

Ah-in’s eyes nearly bulged out in surprise at the name before narrowing his eyes in suspicion and annoyance, remembering the friendship the girl had shared with the devil that he had made a deal with. It was a part of his past that he wasn’t proud of and wished to forget.

Ah-in shook his head as he forced his shaking fingers to insert the key into his lock, wanting nothing to do with her, already the (mostly forgotten) guilt in his role of wrecking an innocent girl’s life and future was filling him like a rising tide. He was sorry, very much so, and regretted the things he had done but he was just a boy then; a boy who had done what he thought was right by his sister and himself, as selfish as it sounds.

“Please,” pled Chaerin, “We need to talk, it’s important.”

Ah-in ignored her pleas as he single mindedly focused on getting his damned door open.

“It’s about Yoona.”

At that, Ah-in’s finger stilled instantly. Immediately, his treacherous mind flashed memories of his immoral acts of that wretched night. The dusty cobwebs that had once shroud his memories of that night dissipating into nothingness.

“Please.”

Swallowing hard, Ah-in stared at Chaerin guiltily, seeing the same regret and self-loathing reflecting back at him.

“I’m not here for Kiko, my friendship and allegiance to her ended years ago after I found out the truth. I really am here for Yoona so please, I need to talk to you.”

With a defeated sigh, Ah-in pushed the door opened, “Come on in.”

Changing into his indoor slipper, Ah-in shuffled to his living room, watching his companion fiddle with her phone as she trailed behind him slowly.

It hadn’t been more than a minute after they had settled down onto his sofa when the doorbell rang. Ah-in stared at Chaerin quizzically, the latter who had a condoling smile on her face, the sight of which unnerving him, “You should get that.”

Puzzled, Ah-in merely gave a polite bow as he left his guest sitting alone in his living room, wondering who it was at the door when he rarely had guests over.

Ah-in fell hard onto the floor the moment his knees gave way to shock, the hard throb in his cheeks reminding him that he was indeed very much lucid and wide awake as opposed to being delirious. Because, right there, at the threshold of the now opened door, stood Im Yoona in the flesh.

Yoona cocked her brow at the sight of Ah-in staring up at her in fear from where he had collapsed onto the ground. Her rage and displeasure at meeting the man who had been responsible for the wreckage in her life leaving a bitter aftertaste in .

“Hello Ah-in, I believe we need to talk.”

Ah-in gulped at Yoona’s chilling words, her willowy voice had a sinister note of steel in it that the Yoona of his memories had lacked. The presence of it had him trembling and peeing his pants a little. It seemed like vengeance had finally come knocking on his door, to collect its dues.

Jiyong tried his best to focus in his meeting involving the marketing team as well as head designer Lee Chaerin. But try as he might, Jiyong couldn’t stop his eyes from straying towards the one person who was sitting diagonally across him at the sturdy beige conference table.

Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail today, allowing him uninhibited access to the doll-like features of the individual that had missed the most. Each passing day since their epic showdown in her office had been hell and Jiyong found himself to be absolutely miserable; the agony of having someone so close yet so far.

Despite so, Jiyong forced himself, with the drill and drive of a marine soldier, to appear as nonchalant as possible, hiding himself behind his expertly cultivated poker mask particularly when they had to cross paths in the office or the corridor they shared back at home. And if her aloof, stand off-ish behaviour was any form of indication, the girl seemed content to be doing the same to him.

Inconspicuously, Jiyong raked his gaze greedily over every inch of her face; the slope of her high nose, the apple of her cheeks, and Jiyong found himself frowning worryingly when he caught sight of the heavy eye bags the girl was sporting despite the concealer that she had worn to conceal them. Had she been overworking herself? Was she not resting enough? That can’t be good for her body, she really needs to take better care of herself...

“Mr Kwon... Mr Kwon. Mr Kwon!”

Jiong flinched, snapping back to reality when Youngbae delivered a particularly hard kick to his shin. Wincing, Jiyong’s glare promised retribution to his friend when he realized belatedly that he had the attention of the entire conference room on him. Chaerin, in particular, was staring at him unimpressed with a raised brow. Oh crap, what had they been discussing about again?