Shadows and Sins

RUIN

Jion was woken up by the ringing of his phone. His head throbbed, the remnants of last night clashing in his mind like a cruel montage. The warm weight beside him stirred, and he felt Jinny’s delicate fingers reach out for him. He tensed. His body stiffened as the guilt gnawed at him, but he forced himself to ignore it. Instead, he reached for his phone.

8:00 AM.

His notifications were flooded—missed calls, unread messages. A majority of them came from Cherry’s manager. Before he could even process it, the phone vibrated again. This time, it was Cherry herself.

He sighed and picked up. “What?”

“About time, asshole,” Cherry’s sharp voice snapped through the receiver. “Do you even check your damn phone? I’ve been calling you all morning.”

Jion groaned, rubbing his temple. “It’s barely morning. Give me a f*****g break.”

“Shut up! Every single one of your pieces from the exhibition has been sold.”

His mind, still sluggish from the night before, stalled for a moment. “What?”

“All of them. Gone. Collectors are calling, wanting to know when your next exhibition will be. My team is drowning in inquiries.”

Jion sat up, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was it. The moment he had fought so hard for, the recognition he had craved, the proof that his work wasn’t meaningless. A rush of emotions coursed through him, pride laced with disbelief.

“Holy s**t,” he muttered. “That’s…”

“f*****g Incredible,” Cherry finished for him. “And your ass better be ready, because this is only the beginning.”

He exhaled, still trying to wrap his head around it. Then, Cherry’s tone shifted—less smug, more deliberate.

“But before you start celebrating, you should know something.”

Jion frowned. “What?”

Cherry hesitated, which was rare for her. “I didn’t make this happen on my own. I mean, yeah, I helped promote you, but I wasn’t the one who funded everything.”

Jion’s stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”

She sighed. “It was Sandra. She’s the one who reached out to me. She’s the one who sent me your work. And she’s the one who made this entire exhibition possible.”

The air in the room grew heavy. Jion was frozen, his grip on the phone tightening. “Sandra…?”

“Yeah,” Cherry confirmed. “She believed in you when you didn’t. She put everything into this. And yet, she stayed in the background, letting you think it was just some big stroke of luck.”

A wave of something—guilt, admiration, loss—washed over him.

“And it’s not even the peak of the iceberg yet,” Cherry added. “She’s not just some ordinary girl, Jion. Sandra comes from an influential PAIK family—one with enough power and reach to control people’s lives. She’s been hiding from them for years. She risked everything to help you.”

Jion was still processing all the information when he abruptly cut in, “I have to go.”

Without waiting for a response, he hung up, grabbed his pants, and rushed out of the studio, barely noticing that he was half-naked. He sprinted to Sandra’s apartment, his heart pounding, only to find the place empty. She was gone.

Cursing under his breath, he stood frozen at her doorway, an unsettling emptiness creeping into his chest. He had to find her. But where?

Dejected, he returned to his studio, only to find Jinny awake and waiting for him. The moment he stepped inside, she crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously. “Who’s Sandra?” she demanded.

Jion, devoid of emotion, simply replied, “None of your business.”

Jinny’s face twisted with anger. “None of my business? After last night? You think that means nothing?”

Jion let out a humorless laugh, his gaze turning cold. “Last night changes nothing, Jinny. Our relationship is still broken.”

Jinny’s expression darkened, her voice rising. “You’re having an affair, aren’t you?”

Jion scoffed, shaking his head. “Of all people, you’re the last person who should be accusing me of cheating.”

He walked over to the chair where her clothes were scattered and gathered them into his arms before tossing them toward her. “Get dressed,” he said flatly, motioning toward the bathroom. “Then leave.”

Jinny’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re throwing me out?”

Jion crossed his arms. “I’ll drop by the condo later. But you need to go. Now.”

She hesitated for a moment, but Jion’s unwavering gaze made it clear that there was no room for negotiation. With a frustrated huff, she snatched her clothes and stomped toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Jion exhaled, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. His thoughts were no longer on Jinny.

He needed to find Sandra.

He sat down heavily on the couch, mind racing. If Sandra was truly hiding from her family, where would she go? His fingers itched to call Cherry back, to demand more answers, but something held him back. He needed to think.

Memories of their time together flashed through his mind. The way she always hesitated before telling him about her past, the way she avoided certain places, the subtle tension in her shoulders when strangers asked too many questions. It all made sense now.

The moment Jinny left his studio, he immediately grabbed his phone again, this time scrolling through his contacts. Shawn. If anyone could help him track Sandra down, it was him.

After a few rings, Shawn answered with a groggy voice. “You better have a damn good reason for calling this early.”

“I need your help,” Jion said urgently. “It’s Sandra. She’s gone.”

Shawn was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. Tell me everything.”

Jion ran a hand through his hair, frustration boiling under his skin. “Cherry just told me everything. Sandra comes from some influential family and has been hiding from them. I need to find her.”

Shawn let out a low whistle. “s**t. You sure about this, Ji? You’re messing with something big.”

“I don’t care,” Jion snapped. “I owe her. I can’t just let her disappear.”

Shawn sighed again. “Fine. I’ll make some calls. But you need to be careful. If she really came from that PAIK clan, they really are that powerful, you don’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

Jion nodded, determination settling in his chest. He would find her. No matter what it took.

Jion sat in the dimly lit studio, the air thick with the scent of clay and paint. His fingers traced the rim of a now-empty glass, remnants of soju still lingering on his tongue. The silence stretched around him, but his mind was anything but quiet. Instead, it played a cruel trick—filling the void with memories of Sandra.

For the past few months, she had been his source of sanity. A presence so steady, so unwavering, that it felt unnatural to exist without it. He let his head rest against the back of the couch, exhaling heavily as he let the memories consume him.

Sandra had tried to teach him sign language once. She had insisted that if they were going to communicate properly, he had to at least learn the basics. He had scoffed at first, claiming he didn’t need it, but the way she had narrowed her eyes at him—half-playful, half-serious—had made him relent.

He had tried, truly. But his fingers never quite moved the way hers did, his attempts clumsy and often incoherent. She would shake her head, laughing soundlessly, and take his hands in hers, guiding him through each movement. He remembered how her fingers felt against his—soft, warm, patient.

"I’m a fucktard at this," he had muttered one night after butchering yet another phrase.

She had only smiled, typing something on her phone before showing it to him: "You’re better than you think."

Jion closed his eyes now, almost as if he could will himself back to that moment, to the warmth of her laughter, the lightness of their shared frustrations.

Then there were the nights they spent drinking together. Jion had always been good at drinking himself into oblivion, but with Sandra, it was different. She never stopped him, never told him to quit—she simply stayed. When the weight of everything became unbearable, when the pain clawed at his throat and the memories of Jinny’s betrayal surfaced like open wounds, Sandra was there. She would let him crumble, let him yell, let him cry.

And when he inevitably did, when he broke apart into something unrecognizable, she would simply hold him. No words, no forced reassurances. Just quiet comfort in the form of steady arms wrapped around him, in the way she pressed her forehead against his, as if absorbing every ounce of his pain.

"Why are you doing this?" he had asked one particularly bad night, his voice slurred, his breath heavy with alcohol.

She had only shaken her head and typed: "Because you need someone to remind you that you’re still here."

Jion ran a hand over his face, the weight of those words settling deep inside him.

The memories shifted, flickering to something lighter—something innocent. Sandra dragging him out of the studio to buy art supplies. She had insisted they go together, claiming she needed help carrying things, but he knew better. She just wanted to get him out, to force him to breathe fresh air and exist outside of his own misery.

They had wandered through the aisles of the store like children, playfully bickering over which paints were better, laughing when he knocked over an entire display of sketchbooks. Sandra had given him a look—part amused, part exasperated—before helping him pick them up, her eyes glimmering with something unspoken.

She always played along with his antics. She never made him feel like a burden. If anything, she made him feel like he was someone worth being around.

Jion exhaled shakily, his hands curling into fists. He wasn’t sure what this feeling was. He wasn’t sure what Sandra had come to mean to him. But he knew one thing—she had become a part of him in a way that terrified him.

And then there was Jinny.

When he saw her again, the pain had surged inside him like a fresh wound torn open. He had loved her—so deeply, so completely, that he had been willing to abandon his dreams just to give her the life she wanted. The night he had caught her with another man, he had been on the verge of telling her the news—the job he had accepted at Odd Atelier, the sacrifices he had made for her.

But it hadn’t mattered.

He had walked in on a reality that shattered him beyond repair. And now, even after everything, even after Sandra, the remnants of that love still clung to him.

He was conflicted. Torn between a love that had shaped him and a presence that had saved him.

Jinny had given him five years of his life—five years filled with happiness, love, and laughter. But Sandra… she had given him air when he had been drowning, had held him together when he was nothing but broken pieces.

Jion barely flinched when the door to his studio swung open with a loud bang. Shawn stepped in, his face twisted in irritation as he took in the sight of his friend slumped over the couch, surrounded by empty bottles and the unmistakable scent of soju and turpentine hanging in the air.

"What the f**k are you doing to yourself?" Shawn cursed, storming toward him. "Drowning yourself in alcohol again? Seriously, Jion?" He grabbed one of the bottles and tossed it into the trash, making a loud clatter.

Jion let out a lazy grin, his eyes hazy from both alcohol and exhaustion. "Relax, hyung. I'm just celebrating." His words slurred slightly, but his tone was void of any real enthusiasm.

Shawn crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Celebrating what? The fact that you finally broke through in the art scene? The fact that you’re finally making a name for yourself? Because this? This looks like you’re throwing all of that away."

Jion scoffed and leaned back, his eyes staring at the ceiling. "What good is success if it all feels meaningless now?"

Shawn frowned, stepping closer. "Meaningless? Because of Sandra’s disappearance? Or because of Jinny’s betrayal?"

Jion’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. He stared blankly at Shawn, unable to form an answer. He didn’t know. He should be happy now—Cherry had even told him the entire proceeds from the exhibition had already been wired to his account. This was everything he had worked for. And yet, he felt nothing.

Shawn sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Jion, man… What the hell happened with Jinny last night?"

Jion let out a bitter chuckle. "We fucked."

Shawn’s brows shot up. "You what?"

"It just happened. Spur of the moment. And before you start your lecture, cut me some slack, alright? I haven’t gotten laid since the night I caught her with someone else."

Shawn shook his head, barely suppressing a smirk. "Well, s**t. Did you at least use protection?"

Jion rolled his eyes. "My pull-out game is strong."

Shawn burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Pulling out isn’t the problem, dumbass. It’s the diseases you should be worried about."

Jion threw a nearby cushion at him, muttering curses under his breath. "f**k off."

Shawn finally composed himself and lightly punched Jion’s arm before reaching into his coat pocket and handing him a thick folder.

"Here. Everything I could dig up about Sandra."

Jion stared at the folder for a second before hesitantly taking it from him. "And?"

Shawn’s expression grew serious. "I’m warning you now—getting involved with Sandra is going to be a lot more complicated than divorcing Jinny. Turns out, she’s still engaged."

Jion felt his entire body go still. "What?"

"She’s engaged to Suhan Kim," Shawn continued, watching Jion’s reaction carefully. "The Prime Minister’s only son."

A sudden pang of something sharp and unfamiliar twisted in Jion’s chest. Engaged. The word felt foreign, like a cruel joke he wasn’t prepared to hear. He gripped the folder tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Shawn sighed and took a step back. "Look, I didn’t come here to brief you on everything. Just read the damn folder. It has everything you need to know."

Jion exhaled sharply through his nose and nodded, though his mind was already racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite organize.

Shawn stretched and yawned. "Anyway, next time you decide to call me at an ungodly hour, make sure it’s at least noon, alright?"

Jion smirked and chucked a red cup in his direction. "Where are you going?"

Shawn caught the cup effortlessly and gave him a knowing look. "Cherry and I have a date." He winked before turning toward the door, throwing up a deuce sign over his shoulder. "Try not to be a dumbass while I’m gone."

Jion watched as the door closed behind him, leaving him alone with the folder in his hands and the storm brewing in his chest.

Engaged.

He swallowed hard and flipped open the first page.