The taxi dropped Sung-Min off two blocks from his building. He walked the rest of the way with his hands in his pockets and his hood up, even though it wasn't cold. He just needed his face not to betray everything churning inside him.
He took the stairs two at a time. The third-floor hallway still smelled of dampness and the fried food someone always cooked at nine o'clock at night. The door to 3B was closed, but a thin strip of yellow light leaked out underneath. As if someone had forgotten to shut it all the way.
He knocked twice. Soft. Almost timid.
The door opened before he finished the second knock.
Ji-Yeon stood there barefoot, wearing one of Tae-Ho's old T-shirts that reached mid-thigh, hair a mess. No bra. Her nipples pressed visibly against the thin fabric. Her eyes were a little red, like she'd been crying or rubbing them hard.
"You're late," she said quietly.
She didn't sound angry. She sounded… exhausted.
"Had to take a detour," he lied. "Min-Soo's been acting crazy out there."
She stepped aside without another word.
Sung-Min entered and closed the door carefully. The click of the latch sounded too loud in the silence.
The living room was a mess: cushions thrown around, a half-empty bottle of soju on the coffee table, the TV remote lost somewhere among the pillows. It smelled of sweet alcohol, Ji-Yeon's perfume, and something sharper underneath. Tears, maybe.
"Where is he?" Sung-Min asked as he pulled off his hoodie.
"He left an hour ago. Said he needed air. That if he came back and I wasn't 'calm'…" She shrugged. "He didn't finish the sentence."
Sung-Min approached slowly. She didn't move. Only lifted her eyes when he was one step away.
"Are you okay?"
Ji-Yeon let out a short, bitter laugh.
"What do you think?"
He didn't answer with words. He just raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
She closed her eyes for a second, as if that small touch hurt more than anything else.
"Come here," he said softly.
He led her to the couch. He sat first and gently tugged her wrist until she dropped down beside him. She didn't resist. Almost immediately she rested her head on his shoulder, like she'd been waiting all day for permission to collapse.
"He yelled at me today," she murmured. "He's never yelled at me before. Called me a lying bitch. Said he knows everything. That if I keep this up he's going to…" She stopped. Swallowed. "He didn't finish that sentence either."
Sung-Min felt something twist in his gut. Not exactly guilt. Something dirtier. More like triumph mixed with disgust.
He put his arm around her shoulders. She curled into him like a wounded animal.
"He's not going to do anything," Sung-Min said. His voice came out harder than he intended. "Not while I'm here."
Ji-Yeon lifted her face. Her eyes were shining, but she wasn't crying.
"And how long are you going to be here, Sung-Min?"
The question landed heavy between them.
He didn't answer right away. Instead he leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't the wild kiss of other nights. It was slow. Almost careful. Like he was apologizing without saying it.
At first she responded stiffly. Then she opened up. Her hands rose to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, grew more desperate.
Ji-Yeon straddled him without breaking contact. The T-shirt rode up to her waist. She wore nothing underneath.
Sung-Min slid his hands along her hips. Hot skin. Trembling.
She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.
"I don't want to talk anymore," she whispered. "Just… make me forget I exist outside this room."
He nodded once.
He lifted her in his arms like she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist. They moved like that to the bedroom.
The bed was still unmade from the night before. It smelled like them. Sweat and broken promises.
He laid her down gently on the mattress.
Ji-Yeon yanked the T-shirt off in one motion. She lay there naked, vulnerable, beautiful.
He undressed more slowly. No rush this time.
When he settled over her, skin against skin, Ji-Yeon let out a long sigh, as if she could finally breathe.
He entered her slowly. She arched her back and dug her nails into his shoulders.
There were no screams. Just soft gasps, synchronized breathing, the steady slide of bodies that knew each other too well.
Every movement was deliberate. Every kiss carried weight.
When she came it was in silence. Just a long shudder, eyes squeezed shut, a single tear sliding down her temple.
Sung-Min followed soon after, burying his face in her neck so she wouldn't see his expression.
They stayed like that for a long time. Sweaty. Tangled. Silent.
Finally Ji-Yeon murmured against his collarbone:
"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this."
Sung-Min stroked her hair with his fingers.
"I know."
She lifted her head.
"And you? How long are you going to keep playing?"
He didn't answer. He just held her tighter.
His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, discarded on the floor.
Neither of them moved to check it.
Outside in the hallway, heavy footsteps approached.
They stopped right in front of the door.
Ji-Yeon tensed.
Sung-Min closed his eyes.
The knob turned.
The key slid into the lock.
And the house of cards stopped creaking.
It started to fall.