Oneshot: The First and Last Mistake

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Translator: Soafp

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“You have the look of someone who wishes they had acted sooner.”

The main star of today’s show, who always seems to be smiling or, as I would describe it, smirking, spoke with a face that seemed to see through everything.

“But it’s too late now. She chose me.”

He stood up smoothly and looked at his reflection in the mirror. What would seem like a pretentious gesture if done by anyone else only made him seem more composed, which made it even more irritating.

As he straightened his slightly disheveled tie, he addressed me, presumably looking at me through the reflection in the mirror.

“You didn’t expect someone like me, a playboy, to steal her away, did you?”

This guy, who can’t resist hitting on any woman he lays eyes on, had more romantic entanglements than anyone could count on both hands and feet, at least from what I knew. Yet, perhaps due to a certain type of frankness in his attitude, since he made no attempt to hide it, even his male friends accepted his behavior to some extent.

Even someone like me, who is often seen as uptight and overly serious, couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of fondness for him.

That is, if he hadn’t gone after her.

“I love her.”

The first time I saw him show such a serious expression.

It was clear, even without words, how deeply this man—normally seen as flippant—felt for her.

But that didn't mean I could forgive him for it.

Because the woman he claimed to love was my first crush, and the woman I still loved.

However, I had never told anyone about this. It was a secret love.

Not because I had any specific reason to hide it.

I had just always thought it was natural and inevitable that I would spend my life with her.

We'd been together since we were kids, and even when we became university students, we were still treated as a set, always together. Of course, many people misunderstood our relationship because of the difference in our genders, but I let them think whatever they wanted because I assumed that someday, it would all fall into place.

I hadn’t been able to find the right moment to confess my feelings, partly because I couldn't break free from the comfortable, lukewarm relationship of childhood friends, and partly because she still seemed immature for her age. Though her body had steadily transformed from a child's to a young woman’s and then into that of a grown woman, her mind remained childlike. She preferred friendship, or rather, spending time with her family, including me, over romantic love. That made me feel secure.

I was the one closest to her, and I had no intention of ever giving up that position.

And then, out of nowhere, his sudden confession came.

My heart froze over instantly, but somehow, I managed to force out a rational response.

“Telling me doesn't change anything.”

“Yeah… I know. You two aren't dating, after all.”

Though I hadn't said anything to confirm or deny our relationship, the fact that he had already seen through it long ago shocked me. Before I could react, he was back to his usual self, cracking jokes.

“That's easy to tell just by watching. Who do you think I am?”

With that, he playfully labeled himself a playboy, and the topic seemed to come to an end. Of course, his confession had weighed heavily on me, but I thought to myself, “There's no way that's going to work.” I was confident.

And then, completely out of the blue, my childhood friend announced something to me with a beaming face, delivering a blow with hundreds of times more impact than his confession.

“I’m dating him.”

That one sentence was enough to destroy my entire world, and in an instant, it felt like the ground beneath me was crumbling away.

“Oh, I see. He's a good guy as a friend, but when it comes to women, he's a bit careless. Are you sure?”

I tried to casually drop some information about him, without making it sound like an insult. I was struggling just to keep my posture straight, and every part of my body, except my face, was drenched in sweat. Yet, my hands and feet felt cold, as if no blood was flowing through them.

“I've realized that he’s actually a very serious and sincere person.”

That can’t be true. He was always flirting with so many women. Before I realized it, I was biting my lower lip. The taste of blood on my tongue brought me back to my senses a little.

“I'll be fine. I like to think I've got a good eye for people.”

Her words felt like a parting shot.

She's made her choice, and from now on, we'll be walking separate paths. Her final declaration.

I couldn't say anything in response.

She quietly walked away, glancing back at me with a smile.

As if she knew exactly how I felt and everything I had been hiding from her.

That was when I turned twenty.

From that point on, I kept waiting for the day the two of them would break up.

I recovered from the initial shock of hearing it from her sooner than expected because I didn’t believe their relationship could last. How could a girl as prim and proper as her, raised in a sheltered environment like mine, possibly get along with a guy who had lovers showing up wherever he went? Even though she was drawn to someone as different as him, I told myself it was just a phase. After all, it wasn't uncommon for someone raised in a “box” to be captivated by an unusual kind of man for a while.

In fact, I heard they were always quarreling about one thing or another. I never got the details, but she'd retreat into herself after every argument, and though it was foolish, I couldn't help but feel some twisted sense of hope in those moments. But before I knew it, those glimpses of her sadness disappeared. I saw less and less of her, until eventually, if I didn't catch a glimpse of her first thing in the morning, days—sometimes weeks—would go by without us crossing paths at all.

And still, the foolish part of me held on to the belief that she'd return to me someday.

It's almost laughable how naïve I was.

Now, the reality of the situation is hitting me hard.

“I told you I was serious, didn't I?”

“I think I remember you saying something like that.”

As more friends come filing into the waiting room, the groom, still smiling, greets them one by one. People come and go, but as his supposed best friend, I sit in one of the chairs reserved for family.

“So why didn't you confess?”

“You're asking me that now…?”

I bite back the words that almost slip out. If I said everything I was feeling now, I'd ruin this supposedly joyous occasion with a disaster.

“So, it wasn't serious enough for you to say anything, huh?”

His comment makes me frown. Fortunately, his mother is busy chatting with his brothers and sisters and paying no attention to us.

“Look, I'm sure you have a lot to say. But if you stayed silent until now, just keep quiet till the end, alright?”

“Are you that insecure?”

I snap back, a little provoked by his cocky attitude.

“Not at all! I'm worried about her. She might get confused, you know?”

“I wouldn't do anything that embarrassing at this point.”

“You say that, but you put up a front and ended up letting someone like me steal her away.”

His words would usually get under my skin, but the sharp look in his eyes leaves me at a loss for a response.

“Sorry, it's a bit of frustration. People have always compared me to you. And the worst part is, you were never even aware of it.”

“That's because I've been with her for so long.”

“Yeah, but you're not siblings.”

That's true. In the end, we don't have any kind of real connection—neither by blood as family nor by love as a couple.

“She saw you as her brother, though. Being an only child and all.”

“I know that.”

I had always known that she would never see me as more than a brother figure.

“Try being compared to someone as perfect as you. Academically, athletically—I couldn't beat you at anything.”

Sure, if you looked at the obvious things like grades and physical ability, maybe you could call me “excellent.”

But his ability to make decisions, his flexibility, and, above all, his irresistible charisma—those were exceptional.

In the end, her judgment had been correct all along.

A man like me, too scared of rejection to even confess, could never be a match for her.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make her happy.”

“Of course you will, idiot.”

With those words, I lifted my heavy body and returned to the hotel lobby.

There, our mutual friends and the bride and groom's families had gathered.

It's fine. I can smile today.

I hear the vows being exchanged.

The first time I got a proper look at her face, she was so beautiful, and her white veil was dazzling.

Today, she's getting married.

For her, I'll keep smiling.

Because she's the most important, the most precious person to me.

---

Her perspective

I don't know when I realized that I had been living in such a small world.

I went from my local high school to a local university, with little change in my friendships or environment. It was comfortable, but there was always a vague sense of dissatisfaction.

I thought it was indulgent to even feel that way, but deep down, those feelings still smoldered within me.

“How can you not know that?”

One day, someone hurled those words at me, and they stung my pride deeply.

I didn't realize how competitive I was until that moment, but after that, I started taking on new challenges. Whether it was a part-time job or hanging out with friends, I began to experience things that others had long considered normal.

That's how I learned that the world was much bigger—and smaller, dirtier, and more beautiful—than I had ever imagined. I started realizing things I should have known long before turning eighteen, but even coming to that realization felt like progress.

“You need to let go of your ‘big brother’ complex; you'll never grow up if you don't.”

The person who challenged my pride said something like that, too. The ‘brother’ he was referring to wasn't my real sibling but my childhood friend, who I'd grown up with as if we were brother and sister.

It's true. I spent a lot of time with him, and I thought that would always be the case.

For someone like me, who wasn't great at making friends, my childhood friend was both a brother and my only true companion.

But that person said it wasn't enough.

It irritated me to admit that he was right, but that first friend I made back then still feels like a lifelong treasure to me.

Little by little, my world began to expand.

Like a child growing up into an adult, without even realizing it, it wasn't my childhood friend who was leading me by the hand anymore—it was him.

In the end, I had to rely on someone else, but I'm grateful to him for showing me so many different worlds.

When that feeling eventually evolved into romantic love, I realized that it was only natural.

But at the time, I was confused about the nature of my feelings. I didn't immediately understand what they were, as he was the first male friend I had ever made besides my childhood friend.

At first, I thought my lack of experience with men was the reason. The tension I felt when he touched me, the way I wanted to know how he spent his time—none of it felt like the emotions I had towards my same-gender friends. But I didn't know how to process that.

Before that, I hadn't even had many female friends, let alone male ones, so I thought I was just overwhelmed by this sudden influx of new information.

When I finally realized that my feelings for my childhood friend and for him were different, I began to understand, albeit vaguely, what those feelings really were.

That’s why I couldn't gain confidence in my feelings right away. Slowly, little by little, as I faced the emotions inside me, I finally became aware of them. It took quite a bit of time.

Once I clearly realized my feelings, I found myself at a loss, not knowing what to do.

Unlike me, he had many friends, including, of course, some charming women among them.

After becoming aware of my feelings beyond friendship, I started paying closer attention to him, and I realized just how attractive he was as a man.

Suddenly, just being beside him made me nervous.

The more I tried to deny it, the more my feelings grew, leaving me completely unsure of what to do. But he quickly saw through my confusion and, with his words, plunged me into even deeper turmoil.

“I like you. Will you go out with me?”

Even someone like me, who didn't know much about confessions of love, could clearly understand his straightforward words.

And yet, seeing him gaze directly into my eyes as he sincerely expressed his feelings, I realized that I wanted to spend my life with him.

I love him.

My world expands once again.

This is the first time I’ve felt this way, and I'm overwhelmed by how intense these emotions are, to the point where I wonder where such powerful feelings had been hidden within me.

And yet, even that overwhelming feeling was strangely comforting.

At the core of it all was my respect and trust for him, the joy of loving and being loved.

Although my childhood friend hesitantly showed some signs of disapproval, in the end, the one who had first opened my world smiled at me gently.

Through the veil, I look at his face.

He smiles warmly, a little embarrassed.

Tears stream down the faces of the people blessing us.

I take a new step forward.

Together with him.