𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃)

Epilogue 3: A Blank Canvas

The city lights of Seoul twinkled like a sea of diamonds below, but Taeyang could hardly take his eyes off the woman sitting across from him.

After months of sterile hospital walls, beeping monitors, and agonizing worry, Hanbyeol was finally discharged, so here they were, celebrating.

She looked radiant, her strength fully recovered and her spirit renewed. The classic, elegant black dress she wore hugged her figure perfectly, exuding a timeless sophistication.

Taeyang complemented her effortlessly, opting for a sharp, monochromatic look in a crisp black button-up shirt and tailored black trousers.

Together, they looked striking—a picture of resilience and understated luxury.

The high-end restaurant Taeyang had chosen lived up to its reputation. Perched high above the city, its floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the glittering skyline and the winding Han River. Soft jazz played in the background, blending with the quiet clink of crystal and silver.

"You look absolutely beautiful," Taeyang said, his voice soft but filled with emotion as he reached across the white tablecloth to take her hand. His fingers wrapped warmly around hers, a silent reassurance that the nightmare was truly behind them.

Hanbyeol smiled, a genuine, lively expression that hadn't been seen in months. "And you look incredibly handsome. Thank you for this, Taeyang. For everything."

As the waiter served their exquisite multi-course meal, the heavy atmosphere of the past few months completely melted away.

They shared a wonderful, laughter-filled dinner in the bustling, elegant space.

As the evening drew to a close, Taeyang suddenly grew uncharacteristically nervous. He fidgeted with his collar, took a deep breath, and slid out of his chair.

All of a sudden, he dropped gracefully onto one knee right beside their table, then pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

She didn't even seem surprised at seeing this scene. After all, it was already his eighth time proposing to her.

In the years before her accident, her prideful, deeply defensive nature had always held her back.

For a long time, she had been paralyzed by a quiet, subconscious fear—an echo of a past—of losing her parents—her loved ones.

She had been terrified that if she finally lowered her guard and accepted him, she would somehow lose him to the cruel whims of fate.

Her stubborn mind had rationalized that you couldn't truly lose something you never fully had. That logic had been her shield, the sole reason she kept pushing him away and rejecting his declarations.

But sitting here tonight, having died a peaceful death in his arms in one world and woken up to his unyielding vigil in this one, she wasn't afraid anymore. The walls of her defensive pride had completely crumbled.

Taeyang looked up at her, his brilliant dark eyes completely serious, devoid of his usual playful teasing. His hands trembled slightly as he opened the box.

"Hanbyeol," he began, his voice dropping to a low, raw whisper that carried a staggering amount of weight. "I know I've asked you this seven times before, and I know you always thought I was being impulsive. But these past two years... staring at you in that hospital room, it made me realize something. I don't care how many times it takes, or how long I have to wait. My universe doesn't make sense without you in it. I feel like my soul has been looking for you forever, and I'm never going to stop running to you." He took a shallow, shaky breath, locking his eyes onto hers. "So please... let me spend the rest of my life, and every single one after it, loving you. Will you marry me?"