The night air outside the hall felt colder than it should have.
Ji-Ah and the others had already stepped out onto the long marble walkway. The music from inside was faint now, like a distant memory of something that had gone wrong.
No one spoke at first.
Then hurried footsteps approached.
Min-Hyuk.
He stopped in front of them, slightly out of breath but trying to look composed.
"I'll drive you all home," he said. "It's late."
Before anyone could respond, Seo-Yeon answered sharply.
"No."
Her voice cut through the quiet.
Min-Hyuk blinked.
Seo-Yeon's arms were folded tightly, anger still burning in her eyes.
"We're fine."
Ji-Ah quickly stepped forward, voice soft.
"Seo-Yeon…Don't be rude."
Her eyes were already shining with tears.
"I'm really sorry," Ji-Ah said quietly. "Because of me everything became like this."
Seo-Yeon turned to her immediately.
"Stop apologizing."
"But—"
"And don't tell me how to speak to him."
Her gaze shifted back to Min-Hyuk.
"This isn't about you personally," she said, though her tone still carried heat. "But your family… the way they behaved tonight…"
She exhaled sharply.
"They're full of ego."
Min-Hyuk didn't snap back.
His eyes hardened slightly.
Not anger.
Something heavier. Something disappointed.
Seo-Yeon continued anyway.
"Tell them this clearly," she said. "From now on, we won't show our faces to them again."
Silence fell between them.
Min-Hyuk frowned slightly.
"What about work?"
Seo-Yeon sighed, rubbing her temple.
Then she lowered her voice.
"We'll quit."
Ji-Ah's head snapped toward her.
"Quit?"
"Yes."
"But… the money…"
Seo-Yeon shrugged.
"We'll survive."
Aiko stepped forward gently, placing a hand between them like someone easing apart two sparks before they became a fire.
"Everyone should breathe first," she said calmly. "Today was already too much."
Min-Jea suddenly appeared beside Ji-Ah.
He gently bumped her shoulder.
"Hey."
Ji-Ah looked up.
"Babe," he said softly.
It was just his nickname for her. A habit between best friends.
"I care about you," he added. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
Ji-Ah nodded, wiping her eyes.
Do-Yoon raised a hand.
"Take care."
Kai-Wen gave a quiet nod.
Lin did the same.
Their small goodbyes carried more warmth than the entire wedding hall behind them.
Suddenly the doors burst open again.
Reporters rushed out.
Microphones.
Cameras.
Flashing lights.
They quickly surrounded the group.
"Ji-Ah! Is it true you threw wine at Yoo-Na?!"
"Did an argument happen earlier as well?!"
"Is this connected to Ha-Joon?!"
"Were you asked to leave the wedding?!"
The cameras clicked wildly.
Someone whispered loudly to another reporter.
"This story is going to explode."
"Kim family wedding scandal…"
"Perfect headline."
Ji-Ah lowered her head slightly.
Seo-Yeon stepped in front of her protectively.
Min-Hyuk looked at the reporters, his expression now completely closed.
But the Kim family inside the hall had already turned away from the situation.
And now, outside, the rest of them slowly began walking down the long driveway together.
Leaving the reporters shouting behind them.
Leaving the wedding lights glowing cold in the distance.
And somewhere inside that grand hall, the celebration continued.
But the warmth that should have filled the night was gone.
-----
The drive back was quiet.
Not the comfortable kind of quiet. The heavy kind that sits in the chest and refuses to move.
When they finally reached Mr. Park's house, the gate slid open with a soft mechanical hum. The house stood tall and elegant under the dim Seoul night, its lights warm but strangely distant.
Mr. Park opened the door before anyone even knocked.
"Come in," he said quietly.
They stepped inside.
The moment the door closed behind them, the exhaustion of the day seemed to settle over everyone like dust.
Mr. Park looked around at them, his expression gentle but tired.
"Everyone… go rest," he said softly.
No lectures. No questions.
Just that.
Then he turned and walked down the hallway toward his room. His footsteps faded as he disappeared around the corner.
Jeon-Seo didn't say anything either. He ran a hand through his hair and headed straight to his room, the door closing with a quiet click.
Soon it was only Ji-Ah and Seo-Yeon left in the living room.
Ji-Ah hesitated.
"Seo-Yeon…" she said softly.
Seo-Yeon stopped walking but didn't turn around.
Ji-Ah clasped her hands together.
"I'm sorry."
For a moment there was only silence.
Then Seo-Yeon finally spoke.
"You always bring trouble."
The words were blunt. Not shouted. Just tired.
"You should learn to stay out of it."
Ji-Ah's lips parted slightly, but nothing came out.
Seo-Yeon didn't wait for an answer.
She simply walked away down the hallway and disappeared into her room.
The house fell quiet.
Ji-Ah stood there alone.
After a moment she slowly looked around.
The house felt strangely familiar.
Same layout.
Same style of furniture.
Same soft lighting.
Just like their home back in Gyeongju.
The one in Seoul looked almost identical, as if someone had copied the blueprint of her memories and built it again.
She sighed quietly.
Then she walked to the last room at the end of the hall and pushed the door open.
Inside, she dropped her bag on a chair and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Cold water on her face.
Hair tied back loosely.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Then she sat down on the bed.
"I'm never going back to that house again," she muttered.
Her voice trembled slightly.
"That tyrant just stood there and watched his mother humiliate me."
Her fingers tightened on the bedsheet.
"I'm not going back."
Then suddenly—
She froze.
Her eyes widened.
"...Wait."
The realization hit her like a falling brick.
"Earth."
She sat up straight.
"My cat."
Her voice rose in panic.
"Pip!"
Her white majestic cat.
Her baby.
And then another thought slammed into her.
"My motorcycle."
She groaned loudly and flopped backward onto the bed, covering her face with both hands.
"I have to go back…"
Her voice cracked slightly.
"For Pip… and my Earth."
A few seconds later the tears finally came.
Quiet at first.
Then heavier.
The room remained silent except for the soft sound of her crying into the pillow, the weight of the night pressing down on her like a storm that hadn't quite finished yet.