Silent as ever, Seo Taeseok suddenly announced his marriage. Fans who had been urging him to admit to a relationship were left in disappointment, and industry insiders sighed. Seo Taeseok, acclaimed as South Korea’s top actor, getting married in his early thirties was like a golden shock.

For some, it was an opportunity, and for others, it seemed like a jinx. Nevertheless, marriage was a slope in itself. Most people applauded Taeseok’s decisiveness, offering their support and blessings.

Taeseok’s handwritten letter, written in neat and straight characters, also had a significant impact. The letter, posted on the official SNS of the agency, contained love and trust for his lover, gratitude toward fans, all written meticulously.

The Seo Taeseok Fan Union officially supported and blessed the marriage, reporting and denouncing oblivious netizens who poured out malicious criticisms. The united power of the devoted fans was remarkable, and hateful comments quickly disappeared.

In the end, it was a flower path.

The happy news spread across every nook and cranny of South Korea. Of course, it went beyond the walls of Cheongju Women’s Correctional Facility.

Even as spring passed and summer arrived, there was a woman living gloomily.

Most of the time, she lay down like a recluse or muttered to herself. Suddenly, she would burst out swearing, then regain composure and pretend to be nonchalant.

So, she was known as the crazy woman. Or maybe 6842.

“Hey, wake her up.”

The sage, who had been serving time the longest, prompted another inmate to provoke 6842. Regardless of who it was outside, in here, the sage’s words were law.

“Hey, did you hear that? Seo Taeseok got married.”

The body wrapped in a blanket slightly flinched.

“You’re always crying about Taeseok, Taeseok. What are you going to do now? Looks like it’s over for you.”

The inmates chuckled. 6842 suddenly got up.

“Who said that?”

“It’s all over the internet. It’s a mess.”

Ji Hyeonjeong’s eyes visibly shook. It was completely over without any possibility. The place she once dreamed of was now occupied by Choe Yeoreum.

‘I wish she would just die. Choe Yeoreum. Kim Secretary did his job. He did everything.’

Sitting in prison and watching those whose lives hit rock bottom, Ji Hyeonjeong realized that what she did was not even close to the worst.

More garbage-like people overflowed. Even those who came in for murder were common. Petty contract killings weren’t even considered incidents.

She thought it would be better to kill than hurt. Such thoughts might have been terrifying when thinking about them outside, but there was no hesitation here.

Theoretically, a correctional facility aimed to rehabilitate, but in reality, it was just a den where criminals learned even worse things.

While Ji Hyeonjeong was pondering this, a visit arrived. It was Shin Mincheol, who visited every week. Hesitating whether to refuse as usual, she followed because she was curious about Taeseok’s news.

“Hello, Hyeonjeong.”
Shin Mincheol greeted leisurely. His own name felt unfamiliar as it flowed through his lips.

“…Why are you here again?”

“On my way to go fishing.”

“Excuse.”

Once deeply in love with another man, she ended up divorced and lost everything. It seemed implausible that they could meet with smiles after all that had happened.

“Don’t come to me anymore. That’s why I came to tell you.”

“Don’t lie. You came because you were curious about Taeseok. It’s obvious.”

Shin Mincheol thought everything about Ji Hyeonjeong was false. He wondered when it had started. Were the twenties they spent together genuine?

“Taeseok boldly faced it. He must be busy preparing for the wedding by now. He’s ecstatic. We went through the same thing, you know.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’ll wait. Serve your sentence well and come out.”

“What?”

“Now that you’ve hit rock bottom, all you have to do is come back.”

“Why? Do you still love me?”

They were long-time friends. Looking back, Shin Mincheol was everything to Ji Hyeonjeong in her twenties.

It was the same with the fresh first love and the fearless entry into business. Although there was no lingering attachment, Ji Hyeonjeong knew that she had no one to lean on except herself.

“Friendship. Love. They all mean the same. Does the definition of a relationship really matter?”

Shin Mincheol responded somewhat philosophically.

“It means you can hold an umbrella for a friend walking in the rain.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Shin Mincheol. I don’t need your sympathy. Go away.”

Ji Hyeonjeong spat out a few more curses and went inside fiercely. Shin Mincheol chuckled, finding it amusing.

“That might be the last chance to recognize it.”

If she showed regret, he thought of extending a helping hand again. Even if the whole world pointed fingers at him, he needed at least one ally to live.

That was the meaning of Shin Mincheol’s emotions towards Ji Hyeonjeong.

It was too trivial to call it love, and too much to call it friendship, but the years of carrying mountains together were several.