Witness

  “What?! He’s getting married?! He still has the nerve to get married and be happy?!” Kio exclaimed in disbelief. He had come to Jin’s place after his med classes and heard the news from him.

  Frustrated, he strode over to Jin’s fridge and grabbed a bottle of cold water—since Jin no longer stocked alcohol. He gulped it down, nearly emptying it in one go, as if trying to cool the sudden temper rising in him.

  “And what do you want him to be, then? Miserable?” Jin countered mildly while chopping green vegetables fresh from his hometown.

  He was preparing dinner. As usual, Kio had decided to sleep over at his place.

  “It’s not like that. I mean… It’s just…” Kio struggled to form a coherent argument. “Ugh! I honestly have no idea!” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his sharp features appearing even more defined with his irritation.

  Jin observed him quietly, understanding where he was coming from. “Don’t get too worked up.”

  Kio shook his head. “I can’t help it. Kai caused so much trouble for all of us.” He exhaled sharply, exasperation evident in his voice.

  “He was a victim, too.”

  Kio scoffed. “He brought that upon himself! He was a victim of his own selfish decisions—oh, and his own toxic emotions, too!”

  “He actually agrees with you on that.”

  “Only now, when it’s all too late.”

  “He had his own circumstances.”

  “And decided to get all of us involved.” Kio was unwavering in his stance. “Ugh! I’m bloody pissed off!” he huffed, rolling his eyes, irritation lacing the gesture.

  Jin remained silent for a moment, simply watching his friend before a lopsided smile tugged at his lips.

  “What? What’s that look for?” Kio asked suspiciously.

  “I had the same sentiment when I first heard about it,” Jin admitted with a chuckle.

  Despite his lingering annoyance, Kio smirked.

  Jin had been just as frustrated when he first learned of Kai’s marriage. At first, it felt unfair—but in the end, he understood: it was all about choices. Kai had chosen to build a future with someone who had pulled him out of his misery. Meanwhile, Jin and Xian had chosen to move forward alone, dedicating themselves to their respective careers.

  As the atmosphere eased, Kio grabbed a handful of blueberries from the fridge, dumped them into a small black bowl, and began eating them one by one. “So, what now? Are you going to his wedding?” he asked, picking up the invitation card and eyeing it like a medical anomaly.

  “No.” Jin’s answer was immediate. “But I’m relieved he’s no longer shackled to the past.”

  “What about you?” Kio asked, tossing another blueberry into his mouth.

  Jin met his gaze with a probing look. “What about me?” In response, Kio exhaled heavily, watching him. “That sigh and that look—what’s that about?”

  It was one of Kio’s more annoying habits, especially at times like this.

  “Ray-chan told me,” Kio began, glancing at Jin, whose eyes narrowed at him. “You told her she only reminds you of someone.”

  Jin sighed, his gaze shifting slightly. “I was just being honest.”

  “Yeah, you were,” Kio said dryly, leaning against the counter. “I figured she’d catch your interest since she shares similar preferences to yours.”

  “And she did. But only because she reminds me of her… even her name,” Jin admitted in a quiet voice. In seven years, this was the first time he had spoken about Lushan to someone who truly understood the weight of their past.

  Kio studied Jin for a moment. “Why not give it a chance? She seems to like you.”

  Jin shook his head. “I would never get into a relationship where I only see the girl as a reminder of Lushan. I refuse to be that kind of man,” he said, firm in his resolve. And for the first time since their separation, Lushan’s name left his lips.

  Hearing it straight from Jin, Kio regarded him with careful consideration. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say her name since you two went your separate ways.”

  Jin only offered a small, knowing smile.

  “Jin,” Kio said, drawing his full attention.

  “What now?” Jin muttered, still not looking at him.

  “If Kai can choose happiness despite everything he’s done, why can’t you? Why can’t you choose to be with the person you want, just like he did? What makes him different from you? No—what’s holding you back?” Kio’s voice was steady, almost challenging.

  Jin looked at him, as if Kio had finally voiced the question he hadn’t dared ask himself.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  For a long moment, Jin had no answer.

  Kio sighed.

  It wasn’t easy for Jin. Nothing about Lushan had ever been easy for him.

  In truth, Kio had initially disapproved of Jin’s relationship with Lushan. It wasn’t just because she was unapologetically cold—it was because she had never cared about how her actions affected others. Her choices had caused disruptions at their academy, stirring tensions not only among the students but even among powerful parents.

  It had all led to that fateful night.

  “Would any of it have happened if Lushan had never come to Emerald High?” Kio wondered aloud, his expression brooding as he regarded Jin.

  Jin’s grip tightened slightly on the knife handle as he paused mid-chop, staring at nothing in particular. “Shouldn’t the real question be: would things have turned out differently if Lushan hadn’t done what she did?” His voice was steady, but there was a weight to it. “She didn’t cause the explosion—she just made all of us aware of the ticking bomb that had been waiting to go off.”

  ——

  The following day, Jin visited one of Edan’s leading state universities, where he was set to attend his tertiary education. He made his way to the campus’ expansive open stadium, where a handful of athletes and students were hanging around. Taking a seat on one of the benches, he waited for several minutes.

  After a while, a woman caught his attention—a petite figure, standing at 164 cm, with long, straight black hair cut in a hime style and a silky, light complexion. She had an anime-like beauty and a slim frame. Jin would be lying if he said he didn’t find her attractive, even with her unembellished face.

  “Jin!” she called out cheerfully, waving at him before jogging over with a bright smile.

  Jin recalled what Kai had shared with him before they parted ways:

  "To be honest, when I found out about your condition seven years ago, I volunteered to be your kidney donor. I really wanted to make it up to you, even if that was the only way I could. But we weren’t compatible. And when I heard you had already found a suitable donor, I was so relieved that I asked Mom to find out who it was. That’s when I learned it was Yu Miho—your ex-girlfriend."

  For years, Jin had wished to meet the person who had saved his life. And now, knowing it was Miho, he didn’t hesitate to call her, setting up a meeting at her convenience. She was currently studying law.

  Settled in one of the cafés around the campus, Jin took a seat across from Miho.

  “How long have you been discharged from the military?” she asked.

  “It’s been a year.”

  “I was surprised when I found out you enlisted. Are you still an active soldier?”

  “No. I’m a reservist now.”

  “I see. But the military never seemed like your thing.”

  “I needed to come to grips with certain things, and that was the most effective way I found.”

  Miho nodded in understanding. It had been a difficult time for him, and she knew he needed something to ground himself.

  “I never imagined it would be you,” Jin admitted, bringing the conversation back to his main reason for reaching out.

  Miho smiled. “I never imagined my kidney would match yours either,” she said with a hint of amusement. “Who told you?”

  “Kai.”

  “Kai? That bastard?!”

  Jin chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “How is he? Still the same as ever?”

  “He’s better now.”

  “Well… that’s good to hear.”

  “It is.”

  “Better late than never, I guess.” Miho sighed and took a sip of her drink.

  Jin looked at her seriously. “You have no idea how grateful I am to you every single day of my life since the operation.”

  Miho’s eyes sparkled as she met his gaze. “What would you do for me in return, then?” She playfully wiggled her brows.

  “Anything,” he said.

  “Anything? Even a second chance?”

  “Anything… but that.”

  Miho scoffed but eventually smiled.

  “Regardless, Miho, I am truly grateful for what you did for me. I know it couldn’t have been easy. I can’t even imagine what you went through after the operation.”

  Another soft smile touched Miho’s lips. “I was lucky there were no complications, and I recovered smoothly. I’m tough. Besides, it was my pleasure to help save your life, even though, honestly, I was this close to backing out.” She laughed lightly at the memory.

  However, as her laughter faded, a more solemn expression crossed her face. “But… someone went down on their knees and begged me not to back out. She even told me she’d give me anything in return.”

  Jin’s expression darkened. “Was it my mother?”

  “No. None of your family knew about me being your donor. I went through the tests in secret. But despite that, someone still managed to find me—other than Kai.”

  “Who?”

  “Lushan.”

  Jin’s eyes immediately reflected something deep—longing, pain, and realization all at once. Miho had expected that reaction. Even after all these years, she could tell Jin’s heart had remained unchanged when it came to Lushan.

  If someone had asked Miho if she regretted letting Jin go, she would have easily said no. At one point, she did. But despite that, she had chosen her dream, and there was no turning back.

  “Isn’t it funny? I walked away from you because I saw you as my competition. Yet, the moment she came into the picture, we were both conquered effortlessly.” Miho chuckled, a glint of amusement in her dark brown eyes.

  Jin, however, only stared blankly, lost in memories.

  “Speaking of which,” Miho continued, “I was assigned to study previous cases, and I chose hers. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No. But why?”

  “I was puzzled when I first learned about what happened. Even though I didn’t know her well, she always gave off the impression of being in control of herself. She wasn’t someone easily swayed or manipulated. So it seemed unlikely that she would end up in that situation. I wanted to understand what really led her there that night.”

  Jin tensed. “Led her there?”

  Miho nodded. “Lushan was sentenced for voluntary manslaughter. For that to happen, there must have been a heated confrontation. But she never disclosed the details.”

  A sharp sensation pulsed through Jin’s veins. That night had left an unhealed wound in him.

  “And since she never denied your testimony, and with her family’s influence, there was no proper trial. The media was kept at bay, and she was sentenced after just one hearing.”

  Jin inhaled deeply, his chest tightening as the memories resurfaced.

  “Did she never tell you why she was there that night?” Miho asked.

  Jin shook his head. “We barely spoke after that.” And that truth had haunted him ever since. “Lushan has always been reserved. She never says more than necessary. Why are you asking?”

  “I visited her former peers while researching her case. Only Kaori Cheng provided anything significant.”

  Jin narrowed his eyes. “What did she say?”

  Miho’s tone turned grim. “She told me that Hana revealed a certain truth to Lushan’s brother, which made him flee from home. And we all know what happened after that.”

  A sharp pain shot through Jin with what Miho said. “Ian died barely a month after their mother’s passing. And Lushan was still recovering from the accident at the time,” he continued.

  It had been tragedy after tragedy for her.

  “I read in the reports that she left you a note that night.”

  “She did.” Jin’s voice was heavy as he recalled her exact words: I’m going to meet Hana. I’ll return before the night gets deeper.

  “I called her right away, but she assured me she’d be back in time for Ian’s wake.”

  “Did she sound urgent?”

  “No. She was composed as always. But something felt… off. That’s why I went after her.”

  And that was how he had come to witness the scene he could never erase from his mind.

  Miho watched him carefully. “It must have been devastating for you too.”

  Jin didn’t respond. The memories flashed before him—the moment he saw Lushan pulling out the bloodied weapon, the scene where he stood by the witness stand to state what he had witnessed and the day where he was sitting by the spectator’s seat while the judge was passing sentence on her.

  He had promised to always be on her side. And yet, fate had twisted his promise into betrayal.

  “Do you regret what you did?” Miho asked softly.

  Jin was quiet for a moment before shaking his head. “It was painful. It always will be. But I don’t regret it.”

  Miho looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because… it was what she needed most at that time.”

  Miho studied him, then nodded in respect of his decision. She couldn't fully understand his point of view but she could perceived that it was the hardest choice that Jin made in his entire life.

  And yet, despite everything, his heart still belonged to Lushan.