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For years, I’ve spoken openly about 옷소매 붉은 끝동, but the truth is, I haven’t been entirely honest.

Writing this novel consumed a much larger part of my life than I ever intended. Over those years, my happiest moments and my most painful ones became inextricably tangled together.

Certain parts of the story take me right back to a loud, chaotic New Year’s Eve party, while other passages evoke the memory of wandering through the biting cold of dawn.

옷소매 붉은 끝동 was once my most beloved work, but somewhere along the way, I let it quietly slip away. For a long time, I truly believed I could never love this book the way I once did.

Yet, the unexpected happened. When I first received the offer to work on a revised edition, I honestly planned to turn it down. But somehow, I found myself saying yes, and eventually, I reopened that old Word file I’d buried so long ago.

It felt surreal to revisit a story I had spent so many years writing, only to rewrite it again after all this time.

But in doing so, I was able to confront the joy and the pain that had lingered over this book like a shadow. It became a turning point for me.

Now that even more time has passed, I find myself wanting to hold on to it all—the years of writing, and every bit of happiness and hurt woven into the pages.

Ironically, the thought of those memories fading feels more cruel than the sting of the pain they once caused.

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