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Chapter 137: Sculptor of the Night
Min-jun sat lost in thought as darkness settled over the city. His mind clung to last night’s voice—he wanted to hear Sung-jun’s voice again. But his phone remained silent. The distant hum of the city filtered through his window, and his stomach growled with hunger. He could still taste the doenjang-jjigae from dinner lingering on his tongue, and his heart churned with restless emotion.
He gazed out into the night. City lights pierced the darkness, yet his mind remained tethered to that voice from yesterday. Min-jun rose from his seat and paced the room. His heart had become a tangled mess of conflicting feelings, and he ached to hear Sung-jun speak again. The phone offered only silence, and Min-jun knew he had to find himself.
The city’s noise drifted up to him. His stomach protested its emptiness. The taste of miso soup still clung to his palate, and his emotions swirled like an uncontrolled tide. He stood and looked out the window once more. City lights carved through the darkness, but his thoughts remained anchored to yesterday’s voice.
He wanted to hear Sung-jun’s voice again. His heart followed that sound, searching for himself within it. What he sought, he realized, was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. The echo of that voice from last night still filled him completely.
Min-jun picked up his phone. But it offered no answer. He needed to find himself. The city’s murmur reached his ears; his stomach twisted with hunger. He could still taste the miso soup, and his heart refused to settle.
He stared at the night sky beyond the glass. City lights cast a glow that somehow darkened his mood, yet he longed to hear Sung-jun’s voice again. Min-jun rose and looked out once more. The lights burned against the darkness, but his heart remained caught in yesterday’s words.
He had to find himself. Min-jun stood at the window, watching the city. The lights illuminated the night, yet his mind clung to that voice. He wanted to hear Sung-jun speak again—his heart following that sound as it searched for him. What he sought was belief in himself, love for himself, understanding of himself.
Min-jun needed to find his own heart. He heard the city’s distant noise; his stomach ached. The taste of doenjang-jjigae lingered. His emotions remained in turmoil. He rose and looked out the window again. City lights pushed back the darkness, but his mind remained fixed on yesterday’s voice.
He wanted to hear Sung-jun again. His heart chased that sound, seeking itself. Self-trust, self-love, self-understanding—these were what he needed. He felt completely filled with the memory of that voice from the night before.
Min-jun gazed at the night sky. The city’s glow weighed on his heart, yet he still wanted to hear Sung-jun’s voice. He stood and looked out. The lights illuminated the darkness, and his mind remained caught in yesterday’s words.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself. What he needed was to trust himself, to love himself, to understand himself. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city noise; his stomach was empty. The taste of miso soup remained; his emotions churned.
He rose and looked out the window. City lights burned against the darkness, and his mind clung to that voice. He wanted to hear Sung-jun speak again. His heart followed that sound. What he sought was belief in himself, love for himself, understanding of himself.
The city’s noise reached him; hunger gnawed at him. The taste of doenjang-jjigae lingered on his tongue; his heart swayed. Min-jun stood and gazed out. The lights burned bright, and his mind remained tethered to yesterday’s voice.
Min-jun had to find himself. He heard the city; his stomach protested. The taste remained; his emotions churned. He rose and looked out. The lights illuminated the night, and his mind clung to that voice. He wanted to hear Sung-jun again. His heart followed that sound, searching for himself—seeking self-trust, self-love, self-understanding.
He gazed at the night sky. The city’s glow darkened his heart, yet he wanted to hear that voice. He stood and looked out. The lights burned bright, and his mind remained caught in yesterday’s words.
Min-jun picked up his phone. But silence answered. He heard the city; his stomach ached. The taste lingered; his heart swayed.
He looked at the night sky. The city’s glow weighed on him, but he wanted to hear that voice. He stood and gazed out. The lights illuminated the darkness, and his mind clung to yesterday’s words.
He had to find himself. Min-jun stood at the window. The lights burned bright, and his mind remained caught in that voice. He wanted to hear Sung-jun speak again. His heart followed that sound, seeking self-trust, self-love, self-understanding.
Min-jun needed to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach ached. The taste remained; his emotions churned. He rose and gazed out. The lights illuminated the night, and his mind clung to that voice.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself—seeking belief, love, understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach was empty. The taste lingered; his heart swayed.
“I’m starving,” Min-jun muttered to himself. He rose and looked out. City lights burned against the darkness, and his mind remained caught in yesterday’s voice. He wanted to hear Sung-jun speak again. His heart followed that sound, searching for itself.
“Sung-jun, where are you now?” Min-jun asked the night sky. What he sought was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach ached.
“I still remember our conversation from last night,” Min-jun thought. “He told me to believe in myself. To love myself. I have to do that.” He rose and looked out. City lights illuminated the darkness, and his mind remained tethered to that voice.
Min-jun needed to find himself. He heard the city; his stomach protested. The taste of miso soup lingered; his heart churned. He gazed at the night sky. The city’s glow weighed on him, yet he wanted to hear that voice again.
“I can’t hear Sung-jun’s voice anymore,” Min-jun thought. “But I remember his words. I have to believe in myself. I have to love myself.” He rose and looked out. City lights burned bright, and his mind clung to yesterday’s words.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself. What he sought was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach was empty.
“I’m dying of hunger,” Min-jun muttered. He rose and looked out. City lights illuminated the darkness, and his mind remained caught in that voice. He wanted to hear Sung-jun speak again. His heart followed that sound, searching for itself.
Min-jun needed to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach ached. The taste lingered; his emotions churned. He rose and gazed out. The lights burned bright, and his mind clung to yesterday’s voice.
“I have to believe in myself,” Min-jun thought. “I have to love myself. I have to understand myself.” He rose and looked out. City lights illuminated the night, and his mind remained tethered to that voice.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself. What he sought was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach protested.
“I want to hear Sung-jun’s voice again,” Min-jun whispered. “I can’t hear it anymore. But I remember his words.” He rose and looked out. City lights burned against the darkness, and his mind remained caught in yesterday’s words.
Min-jun needed to find himself. He heard the city; his stomach ached. The taste remained; his heart swayed. He gazed at the night sky. The city’s glow weighed on him, but he wanted to hear that voice again.
“I can’t hear Sung-jun’s voice,” Min-jun thought. “But I remember his words. I have to believe in myself. I have to love myself.” He rose and looked out. City lights illuminated the darkness, and his mind clung to that voice.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself. What he sought was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach was empty.
“I have to find belief in myself, love for myself, understanding of myself,” Min-jun thought. “I have to do that.” He rose and looked out. City lights burned bright, and his mind remained caught in yesterday’s words.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself. What he sought was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach protested.
Min-jun gazed at the night sky. The city’s glow darkened his heart, yet he wanted to hear that voice again. He rose and looked out. City lights illuminated the darkness, and his mind remained tethered to yesterday’s voice.
“I can’t hear Sung-jun’s voice,” Min-jun whispered. “But I remember his words. I have to believe in myself. I have to love myself.” He rose and looked out. City lights burned bright, and his mind clung to that voice.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself. What he sought was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach ached.
“I have to find belief in myself, love for myself, understanding of myself,” Min-jun thought. “I have to do that.” He rose and looked out. City lights illuminated the night, and his mind remained caught in yesterday’s words.
He wanted to hear that voice again. His heart followed it, searching for himself. What he sought was self-trust, self-love, self-understanding. Min-jun had to find his own heart. He heard the city; his stomach was empty.
Min-jun gazed at the night sky. The city’s glow weighed on him, yet he wanted to hear that voice again. He rose and looked out. City lights burned against the darkness, and his mind remained tethered to that voice.
“I can’t hear Sung-jun’s voice,” Min-jun muttered to himself. “But I rem