Page 61 of From Paris to Seoul

I guess, maybe, all this information is easier to come by than I realized, but my family never tried.

We were too hurt by him—the way he just abandoned us without a word.

To tie up loose ends.

I’m not sure I know how.

The thought of facing him felt like stepping into a different life, one I wasn’t sure I could walk back from. What would it even be like to see him? To listen to whatever justification he mightoffer? And if I did—then what? Would it change anything? Or would it just tear open a wound I’d spent years trying to close?

I looked down, fingers still gripping the metal bar.

Maybe it was better to just leave the past where it was. Maybe I didn’t need answers from him, not if it meant reopening all the old scars. But Seo-yeon… she was waiting for me to make a decision, offering me this chance.

“Are you sure about this?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her gaze steady but soft. “He… works in a shop in Anyang. I can give you his whereabouts if you want… and… you can do whatever you’d like with this information.”

She reached out to take my hand again, her fingers brushing mine gently. “I’m sorry, Baekhyun. I didn’t mean to be nosy or intrude on your personal life, but… it just seemed like the right thing to do.”

I squeezed her hand gently, unsure of what to say. “Why are you doing this?” I finally asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

She gave me a soft, almost hesitant smile. “Because I care about you, Baekhyun. And I just thought… if you want to know, you should have the choice.”

We stayed quiet, both lost in thought. When it was time to leave, I walked her home—stopping far enough to stay out of sight from anyone inside or the guards. The silence wasn’t awkward, just full of things we weren’t ready to say yet.

***

The next few days, I found myself near the neighborhood Seo-yeon had told me about—Anyang. I had no plan. No clue what I would say when I saw him. But I waited.

Hours passed. I leaned against a wall, my gaze fixed on the entrance of a small repair shop where he supposedly worked.

And then—

A man stepped out.

Older than I remembered, but unmistakably him. The same sharp features, the same build. He was carrying a small bag, adjusting his jacket as he locked up the shop.

There’s something strange about seeing your parents grow old. Especially when it’s a parent you haven’t seen in almost twenty years. He didn’t seem as tough as I remembered him. Now, he is just an old man.

Before I could stop myself, I moved.

“Hey.”

He turned, frowning slightly as his gaze landed on me.

And for a long, suffocating moment, we just stared at each other.

Then something flickered in his eyes—recognition, maybe.

I swallowed, my fists clenched at my sides. My mind spun with all the things I wanted to say.

Should I punch him? Yell at him? Ask why he left? Why he never came back?

But in the end, the only word that came out was—

“Why?”

His gaze lingered on me, confusion and something else—guilt?—flashing across his face. He opened his mouth, then closed it, like he wasn’t sure where to start, or if he should say anything at all.

---