Chapter 95

When Jun finished telling the entire story, Gyeol sat with his head bowed slightly.

His face buried in both hands.

Silent.

Holding his breath.

The sight reminded Jun of countless days long ago.

In the end, the story of Jun Shin and Gyeol Go lived in the past.

For eight years, they had remained there, endlessly longing for the versions of each other they had lost.

To begin a new story, they would have to start from here.

Now.

In this moment.

But like a seesaw tilted by uneven weight, their feelings refused to find balance.

Jun was no different.

He had finally reached the moment he had imagined for so long.

The moment he told Gyeol everything.

The moment there were no more secrets between them.

Did he ever imagine Gyeol would simply accept him afterward?

Never.

That desperation was what had brought him this far.

His pride had disappeared long ago.

He had already abandoned reason and rationality.

All he could do was cling to Gyeol.

Even knowing that a ruined painting only became worse the more desperately you tried to fix it.

Yet if he stopped, it would remain unfinished forever.

So he couldn't stop.

And somewhere along the way, he had forgotten what he had originally wanted to paint.

A beautiful, peaceful future?

He had already traveled far too far from that.

“...Gyeol.”

“...”

“Gyeol.”

The weak call earned no answer.

No movement.

Only then did Jun realize his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

It felt as though he could already see the ending waiting in front of him.

His knees gave out.

He didn't even know what he was doing anymore.

Only one thought remained.

Do everything you still can.

Two steps below where Gyeol sat, Jun dropped to his knees.

Tears streamed down his face as he looked up at him desperately.

“...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry all I can offer is an apology.”

“...”

“Everything you said is true. I was wrong. I was so stupid.”

His voice shook beyond his control.

No matter how desperately he tried to steady himself, it was useless.

“I know this is shameless, but... could you give me one chance? Just once?”

Another sob rose into his throat.

Jun struggled to breathe.

Each breath felt like it was strangling him.

“I...”

His voice broke.

“God... I really was wrong. I know I don't deserve forgiveness.”

“...”

“But I can't stand it anymore.”

Tears spilled freely.

“Every time I see you with someone else, I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

His trembling hand reached toward Gyeol's hair.

Then stopped.

Unable to touch him.

It fell instead to Gyeol's shoe.

Jun carefully gripped the edge of it before lowering his head.

“I'm so sorry.”

“...”

“I'm sorry for saying this. I'm sorry I couldn't hold it in.”

Dark spots gradually spread across the concrete beneath him.

Far behind them, darkness crept closer.

The river slowly turned black.

“Gyeol...”

“...”

“I can't forget you.”

“...”

“I can't let you go.”

“...”

The reeds rustled in the wind.

The river flowed softly nearby.

And mixed between those sounds—

for a long time—

came the sound of Jun crying.

Finally, Gyeol spoke.

His voice was rough.

Low.

Quiet.

“...Jun Shin. Look at me.”

“...”

Jun's hands tightened around Gyeol's shoes.

But he couldn't raise his head.

“Look at me.”

Gyeol's voice remained flat.

“Get up. I don't want to see you like this.”

“...Gyeol.”

Jun slowly lifted his head.

His voice was waterlogged with tears.

At Gyeol's words, he tried immediately to stand.

But his legs had gone numb.

And then he saw it.

Gyeol was crying.

Silently.

Unlike Jun, there was no violent storm of emotion crossing his face.

Only emptiness.

A vast, heavy emptiness.

Looking down at Jun with hollow eyes, Gyeol continued.

“...Thank you for telling me.”

His voice was sincere.

“I mean that. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to talk about.”

Sometimes silence conveyed more than words ever could.

Experiences layered on top of one another until they became understanding.

And understanding eventually arrived in the form of instinct.

For Jun, that moment was now.

“Whether I wanted it or not, I understand that from your perspective, you were trying to protect me.”

Tears continued gathering in Gyeol's eyes.

“I don't want to deny that. I want to acknowledge it exactly as it was.”

Jun knew.

He knew.

The ending had arrived.

Not a pause.

Not another obstacle.

An ending.

“There were misunderstandings. Bad timing.”

Gyeol's voice remained calm.

“And I know you tried again to fix all of it. I know that's how you ended up here.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Thank you.”

The ending of their story had finally arrived as a true ending.

“Thank you for doing all of that for me.”

“Jun.”

Gyeol lowered his head slightly.

From this distance, Jun could see every tear gathering in his eyes.

“I really loved you.”

There had once been a time when Jun could wipe those tears away.

“You were the most important person in the world to me.”

Gyeol's voice trembled.

“Maybe even more important than I was to myself.”

But that time was gone.

Even if Gyeol was crying because of him—

because of Jun himself—

he could no longer reach out.

He could not wipe those tears away while talking about love.

For the first time, he truly understood.

He had lost that right.

“...But not anymore.”

“...Gyeol.”

“Eight years is a long time.”

Gyeol smiled sadly.

“A lot happened to me too.”

His voice softened.

“There are things I can't tell you.”

“Gyeol...”

“Too much has changed.”

The tears finally slipped down his face.

“We aren't twenty-year-old Gyeol Go and Jun Shin anymore.”

“Don't say that.”

Jun's voice cracked.

“Please. Gyeol, I—”

“I want to stop now.”

Silence fell.

“I came to R-Connect because I wanted to move on from the past.”

Slowly, Gyeol stood.

Then he bent down and took hold of Jun's forearm.

Jun didn't resist.

He let himself be pulled upright.

Standing two steps above him, Gyeol gently pulled him into an embrace.

“So you need to stop too.”

“...”

Gyeol's scent wrapped around him.

Lilies blended with vanilla.

Jun inhaled shakily.

Then closed his eyes.

“I already let you go.”

The words were cruel.

Softly spoken.

Gentle.

“I won't change my mind.”

Gyeol's hand stroked his back.

The touch was as kind as ever.

Yet every word spoke only of change.

Of distance.

Of finality.

And Jun finally understood.

Gyeol was standing here.

But he wasn't here anymore.

The moment Jun left—

Gyeol had left too.

“I'm sorry, Jun.”

“...Hk.”

“And thank you.”

“...Hic...”

Darkness swallowed everything around them.

Hidden at the edge of that gray twilight, the two of them clung to each other and cried.

Just like they had on certain days long ago.

And at last—

their goodbye arrived.

Eight years late.

***

R-Connect 10

Day 0.

Jun Shin's pre-show interview.

“Why did you decide to join R-Connect 10?”

“Honestly...”

Jun smiled faintly.

“There’s someone I want to see.”

“Are you saying you joined to meet a specific contestant?”

“...Yes.”

A pause.

“I decided to appear because of that person.”

***

By the time they arrived back on the island and stepped off the helicopter, night had fully fallen.

“Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, Jun.”

“You too.”

Jun forced a smile.

“Good work today.”

They had barely spoken during the flight back.

A brief farewell was all they exchanged before separating.

Gyeol watched Jun's retreating figure for a moment before looking away.

That was when the production staff approached him and requested an interview.

The other contestants had already completed both their interviews and favorability votes.

All that remained was for Gyeol to finish his interview and cast his vote.

“You two looked happy before CAMERA OFF — FREE TIME. But afterward the atmosphere seemed different.”

“Did it?”

The producers had clearly been dying to ask.

They'd been circling around the subject since he arrived.

Gyeol answered with a question of his own before smoothly redirecting.

“It was probably because we had a serious conversation.”

“A serious conversation about what?”

“CAMERA OFF — FREE TIME is CAMERA OFF — FREE TIME.”

He smiled politely.

“I'll leave that to your imagination.”

Though he answered with a smile, there was an unmistakable boundary in his tone.

“It looked like Jun Shin was crying.”

“Maybe.”

Gyeol tilted his head slightly.

“But if it looked that way, I think you'd have to ask Jun himself.”

The producers refused to give up.

They rephrased the question several times and tried approaching from different angles.

Every attempt failed.

Gyeol drew the line each time.

Politely.

Firmly.

Eventually, realizing they would get nothing from him, the staff abandoned questions about free time altogether and moved on to broader questions about the date.

Gyeol selected suitable answers and responded.

Before long, the interview ended.

***

Standing before the mailboxes for the favorability vote, Gyeol stared at the names one by one.

Jun Shin.

His gaze lingered there briefly.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't sad.

Human emotions didn't disappear as cleanly as cutting a radish in half.

Of everyone who had ever passed through his life, Jun was the only person he had truly loved that much.

To claim he had never wavered, not even for a moment—

that would be a lie too.

Gyeol held two cards.

He looked down at one of them.

No matter what happens, even if you never look at me again, I'll keep looking at you.

The card Jun had personally given him.

The very card he had said he couldn't send on the night of Day 6.

Gyeol swallowed against the sting in his throat.

For a moment, he rubbed the corner of the card with his thumb.

Then he reached out.

And quietly returned it to Jun Shin's mailbox.

Now only one card remained.

This one was Gyeol's.

Today's favorability vote.

For a long moment he looked at the names attached to the mailboxes.

Then he stepped forward.

And slipped the card into someone's mailbox.