Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Breakup
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After parting quietly with Seong-gwang in front of the motel, Jin-seong trudged home looking shabby and utterly bedraggled.
The family, who had spent the past few days worried sick, greeted him.
He had braced himself for a harsh scolding from his parents and the rest of the family,
but they simply stared at Jin-seong in silence.
His mother was the first to speak, her voice tentative.
"Jin-seong, have you eaten anything?"
Jin-seong felt too ashamed to even meet their eyes.
He had broken his promise and repeated the same mistake—
how mortifying, how humiliating it all was.
Jin-seong slipped quietly into his room, head bowed.
Once inside, he unpacked his things, collapsed onto the bed, and spent a long time staring blankly at the ceiling.
It felt like his soul had fled his body.
He couldn't wrap his head around the reality: over a year's salary gone in just one week.
He still couldn't fathom why he—someone who had been so coldly disciplined—had fallen into this again,
but in the end, it had all been his choice.
A short while later, there was a knock at the door.
His mother entered slowly, her face stern.
"Jin-seong, let's talk for a minute."
Jin-seong sat up slowly and pulled over a chair.
His mother perched on the edge of the bed and looked at him.
She paused for a moment before asking calmly,
"What on earth were you thinking, doing something like this again?"
Jin-seong fell silent at first,
then finally forced out the words he had to say.
"I'm sorry. I gambled again.
I broke the promise I made with you and Dad.
I did it with Seong-gwang."
His mother let out several deep breaths, as if her chest were tight.
Forcing back her anger, she asked again.
"So... you've gone into debt again now?"
Jin-seong nodded reluctantly.
"I didn't borrow from any friends.
I took out about 35 million from banks and lenders."
His mother was at a loss for words.
Just a few months ago, she had paid off his debts and thought he was finally getting his act together with a job.
But now, seeing her son repeat the same mistake, her heart ached.
Still, she believed family problems had to be handled within the family.
His parents knew all too well how tough gambling addiction could be,
and she resolved to handle it firmly this time.
His mother spoke in a resolute tone.
"Jin-seong, this is absolutely the last time.
There won't be a next. We'll help you out from home this once,
but in exchange, cut up all your credit cards right here in front of me,
and start working at the restaurant immediately. We'll set your salary at 3 million won a month.
You'll get 1 million for living expenses, and the remaining 2 million goes straight to paying off the debt.
That way, you can clear it in about two years.
Can you do that?"
Jin-seong knew he had no choice.
He bowed his head and murmured quietly,
"Okay, Mom."
His mother nodded, stood up, and added as she left,
"I'll transfer the money tomorrow morning,
so use it to pay off everything and show me the receipts. Get some rest tonight."
As his mother left, Jin-seong let out a long, deep sigh.
It was a tangled mess of guilt, gratitude, and sheer relief at still being alive.
All the tension and stress from that hellish week crashed over him at once.
Jin-seong finally drifted into the deep, peaceful sleep he'd been craving for so long.
The next morning, bright and early, 35 million won hit his account from his mother.
Added to the 3 million he'd scraped together, that made 38 million total.
Jin-seong snapped to attention and spent the morning frantically calling lenders and card companies
to request early repayments.
With early repayment fees tacked on, it cost a few hundred thousand more than the principal.
Just like that, he cleared every last debt completely.
Jin-seong showed his mother the repayment confirmations on his phone screen.
"I've paid it all off now, Mom."
She gave a curt nod.
His father hadn't said a single word to him the whole time.
That heavy silence cut deeper than any lecture.
Jin-seong vowed to himself once more: throw himself into work and never so much as glance at ladder games again.
That evening, after work, he met up with Hyo-jin.
Since they lived in the same neighborhood, they grabbed a spot at a small cafe nearby.
Hyo-jin had plenty she wanted to say, but seeing how worn out he looked,
she simply offered quiet comfort.
"Honey, I heard what happened.
I believe you can sort yourself out from here.
Don't beat yourself up too much—hang in there."
Her steady words gave him real strength.
But Hyo-jin had no idea he still owed his parents nearly 80 million won.
And so, Jin-seong slipped quietly back into his routine.
But he could no longer meet with Seong-gwang.
They hadn't spoken since parting ways outside the motel.
Their parents had probably laid down the law: no more hanging around together if gambling was involved,
forbidding their sons from contacting each other.
Jin-seong returned to his lonely daily grind, cut off from Seong-gwang.
Jin-seong kept a low profile like that for several months.
He left a brief farewell in the family room chat:
"I've quit gambling for good, so keep it up, everyone.
Thanks for everything."
And with that, he left the group.
Afterward, he deliberately avoided even glancing at gambling sites,
pouring all his energy into working at his parents' restaurant.
Seeing him like this, his parents finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Our boy's finally turned a corner."
His routine of home and work left him spending almost nothing—just enough for cigarettes.
No booze, no hanging out with friends.
Then one day, Dong-hyeon hyung—an old acquaintance from group meetups—reached out.
"Jin-seong-ah, I just opened a little bar. Long time no see—come grab a drink."
Jin-seong hesitated for a second,
but he was touched that his hyung had made the effort, so he agreed.
He let his parents know.
"An old hyung opened a bar—I'll swing by quick."
After his shift, he headed to Dong-hyeon's new place.
It was a small, cozy spot.
Dong-hyeon hadn't changed a bit, welcoming him with that same warm smile.
"Hey, Jin-seong! Way too long.
What's up with you? No meetups, impossible to catch you these days."
Jin-seong grinned and greeted the familiar face.
"Congrats on the opening, hyung! Hope it blows up!"
The place was brand new, so it was dead quiet with just one part-timer handling things.
The two claimed a quiet corner table, set up drinks, and raised their glasses after ages.
A few rounds in, Dong-hyeon broached the subject carefully.
"Jin-seong-ah... I heard rumors, y'know?
Something about you hitting rock bottom with gambling—is that true?"
Jin-seong tensed up for a split second but soon spoke evenly.
It was all in the past anyway, nothing he couldn't share, and with the booze loosening his tongue,
he poured out every grueling detail.
Dong-hyeon listened quietly, intently, all the way through.
When he finished, Dong-hyeon looked sympathetic.
"Man, that must've been brutal. Just... never go back there, alright?"
Jin-seong nodded.
"No way, hyung. I never want to relive that."
But that's when Jin-seong made his big blunder.
"Honestly, I've still got about 70 million left to pay off..."
He forgot to mention it was money he owed his parents for covering it—
making it sound like he was still tangled up with shady lenders.
That "70 million" figure burned itself into Dong-hyeon's mind.
They wrapped up, Jin-seong said his goodbyes, and headed home.
But one crucial detail had slipped his mind:
Dong-hyeon was close friends with his girlfriend, Hyo-jin.
Two weeks passed since that drinking session.
Jin-seong's routine stayed the same: home to restaurant, rinse and repeat.
He'd see Hyo-jin here and there on days off.
But lately, her attitude had shifted oddly.
Jin-seong had picked up on the subtle vibes.
She used to pout and whine cutely about not seeing him enough,
but now she never suggested meeting first, her texts shrinking to one-word replies.
Messages trickled to almost nothing.
He chalked it up to her being busy at first,
but after nearly two weeks, his gut screamed the truth.
'Ah... Hyo-jin's heart isn't in it anymore.'
On a day off, desperate for confirmation, Jin-seong messaged her first.
Her response was still curt and cold.
Now he knew for sure:
Hyo-jin had already made up her mind on her own.
She just didn't want to play the villain, nudging him to pull the trigger.
Truth be told, if she'd come out and said "let's break up,"
Jin-seong would've accepted it without a fight.
He'd blown their money on gambling and dragged her through hell—he owned that.
But her silent pressure, forcing him to say it first with zero explanation? That stung.
Jin-seong flopped onto his bed, stared blankly at the ceiling,
grabbed his phone, and fired off a short text.
"Shall we... break up?"
No hesitation, no questions—her reply was swift and crystal clear.
"Yeah, let's."
And just like that, Jin-seong's two-year relationship fizzled out into nothing.
Lying there, staring up, the void swelling deep in his chest overwhelmed him.
Tears finally burst forth.
Jin-seong sobbed alone in the dim room for what felt like forever.
They say the real fallout from a guy's breakup doesn't hit right away—
it creeps up days later, twice as brutal.
Jin-seong was living that nightmare.
The first day? Just numb shock.
It hadn't sunk in yet; he barely registered the pain.
But by day three or four, the storm raged.
Nothing stuck—work, sitting still, lying down.
Hyo-jin's face haunted him nonstop.
Jin-seong was your average guy: no superhuman patience,
prone to mood swings, the everyday type you see anywhere.
He cracked eventually, creeping onto her Instagram.
She was thriving.
Pics of her laughing at drinks with friends, raving at clubs.
Anger and bitterness boiled up in him.
'I'm dying here... and you're flaunting how great you're doing.'
He caved and texted her.
"Can we meet just once to talk?"
An hour later, she replied.
Hyo-jin had been uneasy too—no proper face-to-face closure.
Meeting to end it clean felt like the decent thing, so she agreed.
The next evening, they met at a quiet bar with private rooms.
Weeks apart, the air was thick with awkwardness at first.
But a drink or two in, words spilled out,
and the mood shifted to wrapping things up naturally.
Hyo-jin spoke carefully.
"Jin-seong, honestly, I'm at the age where I'm thinking marriage.
How am I supposed to build a future with a guy drowning in debt like that?
It was rough on me too."
Jin-seong's eyes flashed.
He blurted out in panic,
"Hold on... I never told you about any debt.
Hyo-jin, how did you know?"
Hyo-jin froze, realizing her slip, and dropped her gaze silently.
Jin-seong's mind raced.
Only one person he'd told: Dong-hyeon hyung from the bar opening.
It clicked—everything fell into place.
The hyung he'd trusted with his guts had gone behind his back to Hyo-jin.
Anger and betrayal choked him silent for a beat.
Then, with a bitter laugh, he asked,
"Hyo-jin... was it Dong-hyeon hyung? He told you?"
She stayed mum, flustered.
Originally, she'd met Dong-hyeon through Jin-seong anyway.
He'd run the group hangs; she'd tagged along, and he'd introduced them casually since they were the same age.
Short-lived "friends," that was it.
The betrayal hit Jin-seong like a gut punch.
If she'd trusted him enough to ask directly,
he could've explained: it was just money to his parents, something he could pay back steadily.
But she'd robbed him of even that chance.
Trusted people stabbing him in the back? In that instant, he hated everyone.
Nothing left to say.
Jin-seong stood slowly, gave her one last look.
"Got it. Thanks for everything. Take care."
He left those few words and walked out first.
Alone at the table, Hyo-jin stared at her glass in silence for a long stretch.