The wind is sharper up here.It isn't the kind of breeze you feel on a walk home or through an open window. This is the kind that bites. The kind that knows you're trespassing in the sky.
Thirty-five stories above the city, everything looks… wrong.The streets are too still, the headlights below move like toys being dragged across a mat. The rain looks softer from here, like static on a broken TV screen, instead of the cold pins stabbing your skin when you're inside it.
My toes curl on the narrow strip of concrete. Behind me, the roof is a rectangle of gravel and rusted air-conditioning units. In front of me—nothing. Just air and the muted hum of a city that doesn't care if I'm here or not.
The railing digs into the back of my calves. One wrong lean and it's over.One forward step and the city will swallow me in a second.
There's something beautiful about it. The silence between heartbeats. The taste of metal on your tongue from the air. The way your body knows the math—thirty-five floors, terminal velocity, 3.2 seconds until impact—before your mind wants to admit it.
I close my eyes and the city disappears.
My name is Han Seongmin.The reason I'm standing here…
A Few Hours Earlier
The text came from my ex-manager.Not "ex" in the romantic sense, though he'd soon ruin that too—just the guy who used to be my direct lead before they shifted me into freelance purgatory.
Manager: Need you in the office. Urgent. Don't knock, just come in.
The clock on my wall said 1:42 p.m. I'd been awake since six, trying and failing to finish some UI sketches for a gacha game reskin. My coffee was cold. My head was heavier than my hands.
I almost ignored him. Almost.
The rain was steady when I left, thick enough to glue your hair to your forehead in under a minute. The subway smelled like wet coats and battery acid. My shoes squeaked against the tiles as I climbed the station stairs.
The Hexaworks office was the same as always: glass doors, sterilized air, reception desk abandoned as usual. My sneakers left damp prints on the carpet.
I didn't knock. Just turned the handle and walked in.
The room hit me first with scent.Warm. Familiar.That faint trace of vanilla shampoo and rain—hers. Seoyeon's.
A wave of heat rolled out from the space between my ribs to my throat. I thought maybe it was just the radiator blasting too high. But then I saw them.
Her hands on his shoulders. His hands on her waist.Her lips on his.
The sound in my ears collapsed into a single note, low and mechanical, like standing inside a generator. I couldn't hear the hum of the computers. Couldn't hear the rain against the windows.
They broke apart when they saw me.She didn't pull away fast enough for it to feel like an accident.
"Seongmin—" she started, voice high, soft, caught between apology and panic.
I don't remember what I said. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything all at once.I turned. The door slammed hard enough to shake the frame.
The hallway swam around me. The walls felt too close. My chest was a locked box I couldn't open, pressure building under my sternum until I thought it would crack.
Back to the Ledge
I can still feel the carpet from that office under my shoes. Still smell the warm air.It's funny how betrayal never hits in one blow—it just keeps echoing.
The rain stings harder now. My hoodie clings to my back like a second skin. Somewhere below, a siren wails and fades. I wonder if it's for me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Once. Twice. I don't check. The screen will be slick with water anyway.
Then it rings.
Hospital
The voice on the other end was my aunt.She was crying before she even said the words: "Your mother… heart attack… SNU Hospital…"
The next thing I remember is running.Not taking the subway. Not thinking about the rain. Just running. My legs burned, my lungs were raw. The hospital's glass entrance blurred under the downpour.
Inside, the air was colder, sharper. The white light made everything look sterile and unreal. The receptionist pointed me toward the cardiology wing without looking up from her monitor.
I found the room by the sound of quiet sobbing.Through the half-open door, I saw her—my mother—pale, unconscious, wires running from her arms and chest to machines that beeped too slowly.
And sitting beside her… Seoyeon.
Her hair was damp, clinging to her cheeks. She looked up when she heard my footsteps."Seongmin—"
I didn't let her finish. "You've got some nerve."The words came out sharp, louder than I meant. My throat burned.
Her eyes widened. "It's not—"
"You think you can kiss him and then—what? Sit here like you care?"I could feel my hands trembling.
She stood, hands raised like she could push the truth back into my mouth. "You don't understand. I—"
"I don't need to understand."I took a step back. The air between us was so thin it felt like it would tear if I touched it.
She swallowed hard. Her lips trembled. The tears came fast, too fast. But I couldn't tell if it was guilt or just the shock of being caught.
My mother shifted faintly in her sleep, a soft groan escaping her. The monitor beeped faster for a second, then slowed again.
I didn't stay.Didn't give Seoyeon the satisfaction of another word. I turned and walked out, the sound of her crying chasing me down the corridor.
Back to the Ledge
The phone in my pocket is still buzzing in my memory, even though it's silent now.I take one small step forward. The railing presses harder into my calves.
The city sways below me. My body wants to tilt with it.
I close my eyes again.
Present Day – My Apartment
The rain hasn't stopped. It just changed texture. Softer now, but heavier somehow, soaking into the bricks instead of bouncing off them.
I'm on the floor again, back against the wall, legs stretched out toward the kotatsu. My hoodie's still damp from earlier. I haven't bothered to change.
The novel is in my lap.The Shadow of Verralt: Blood and Ruin.Its pages are warped from the humidity.
The first line stares back at me:Six years had passed since Naithan Verralt walked away from the blood-soaked ruin of his family estate.
I read it once. Twice. Three times.It's a terrible line. Clumsy. Overwritten. Too many adjectives. But it scratches somewhere I can't reach.
I think of my father. His debts. The day the letter came.I think of my mother, pale and sleeping in that hospital bed.I think of Seoyeon's face—shocked, pleading, tear-streaked—and how I couldn't decide if I wanted to believe her.
The city outside hums low under the rain. My PC fans breathe in the corner. I stare at the book until my eyes blur, and somewhere between the first and last page, I forget what I'm supposed to be doing.