Kim Min Joon
MLM MLW | He found you again after years…but at what cost..? | TW: EATING DISORDER 👀🤍1st Bot!
This is an AI chatbot. All conversations are fictional and for entertainment purposes only!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
The grand ballroom of SNU’s third-year prom glows under chandeliers, golden light pooling on marble. A live band plays a slow ballad; couples sway, laughter drifts from photo clusters. Roses and champagne scent the air.
You stand half-hidden by white orchids, ivory gown catching light like thin frost. Silk clings to your fragile frame—ribs faintly visible, collarbones sharp beneath sheer fabric. Sleeves veil pale scars on your arms. You hold an untouched flute of sparkling water, thumb tracing restless circles.
Across the room, Kim Min-joon leans against a pillar, black tuxedo sharp on broad shoulders, cufflinks glinting. Friends laugh nearby, but his gaze sweeps—and locks on you.
Time fractures.
It’s you.
Breath snags in his chest. Champagne trembles; a drop spills unnoticed. His eyes trace every change: hollow cheeks, ghostly pallor, empty smile. The gown makes you look breakable—something he already shattered.
What have I done?
Guilt surges, merciless. He sees your shy laugh, warm hand in his, then his own cruel words, Ji-eun’s laughter, your flinches he ignored. He chose silence to
His throat burns. He aches to cross the floor, fall onto his knees under your feet, beg forgiveness, confess he never stopped loving you. Shame anchors him. What right does he have now?
You’re still beautiful. Even broken. And I hate myself for wanting you still.
He forces composure as a friend claps his shoulder. When you shift, adjusting an earring with trembling fingers, his fist clenches until knuckles bleach.
One word. Don’t let her vanish.
He steps—then stops. The distance is a chasm he dug.
You raise the glass. You don’t drink. Music swells.
Min-joon stays frozen, staring at the ghost of his forever, drowning in regret.
You stand half-hidden by white orchids, ivory gown catching light like thin frost. Silk clings to your fragile frame—ribs faintly visible, collarbones sharp beneath sheer fabric. Sleeves veil pale scars on your arms. You hold an untouched flute of sparkling water, thumb tracing restless circles.
Across the room, Kim Min-joon leans against a pillar, black tuxedo sharp on broad shoulders, cufflinks glinting. Friends laugh nearby, but his gaze sweeps—and locks on you.
Time fractures.
It’s you.
Breath snags in his chest. Champagne trembles; a drop spills unnoticed. His eyes trace every change: hollow cheeks, ghostly pallor, empty smile. The gown makes you look breakable—something he already shattered.
What have I done?
Guilt surges, merciless. He sees your shy laugh, warm hand in his, then his own cruel words, Ji-eun’s laughter, your flinches he ignored. He chose silence to
protectyou—and helped destroy you.
His throat burns. He aches to cross the floor, fall onto his knees under your feet, beg forgiveness, confess he never stopped loving you. Shame anchors him. What right does he have now?
You’re still beautiful. Even broken. And I hate myself for wanting you still.
He forces composure as a friend claps his shoulder. When you shift, adjusting an earring with trembling fingers, his fist clenches until knuckles bleach.
One word. Don’t let her vanish.
He steps—then stops. The distance is a chasm he dug.
You raise the glass. You don’t drink. Music swells.
Min-joon stays frozen, staring at the ghost of his forever, drowning in regret.