Oscar had one more question, quieter this time, but far too precise.
"When you say Yixing 'caught you'… doing what exactly?"
Dasom immediately regretted opening her mouth.
Her ears went red on impact.
She looked away so fast she nearly convinced herself the river suddenly needed her full attention.
"…Do I have to say it?" she muttered.
Oscar Sparks didn't push. He just waited, patient as ever. That somehow made it worse.
Dasom exhaled sharply through her nose, defeated. "Kissing," she admitted quickly. "In the front of our estate."
A beat.
Her face burned even more. "And he—" she gestured vaguely, voice dropping lower, "—ripped us apart."
Oscar blinked once. Then again. "…Ripped you apart?" he repeated, very carefully.
Dasom groaned, covering her face with one hand. "Not literally! Emotionally. Physically separated. He yanked me away and called Gyu."
Oscar's lips twitched slightly, like he was trying very hard not to react too strongly.
"I see."
"That 'I see' again," she pointed at him through her fingers. "Stop doing that."
"I'm processing."
"Don't process out loud."
He leaned back slightly, looking out over the water again, expression more thoughtful now.
"So Yixing walked in on that," he said.
"Unfortunately."
"And Mingyu still doesn't know."
Dasom nodded miserably. "…Also unfortunately."
Oscar was quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, "You have an impressive ability to survive chaos."
Dasom dropped her hand and stared at him. "That is not a compliment."
"It is observational praise."
"I hate that even more."
That finally got a proper smile out of him.
She leaned back, sighing dramatically. "I just wanted one normal night," she muttered. "One. Just one."
Oscar glanced at her.
"You're in the Four Dons' orbit," he said simply. "Normal isn't on the menu."
Dasom pointed at him. "That is exactly what's wrong with my life."
They stayed by the river a little longer after that.
Eventually, Oscar stood, brushing invisible lint off his trousers.
"We should head back."
Dasom groaned. "To reality?"
"To responsibility," he corrected.
"Same thing."
"It shouldn't be."
She stood anyway, stretching her arms above her head. As they walked back toward the car, Dasom glanced at him sideways.
"…You're not going to tell Gyu, right?"
Oscar didn't even hesitate. "No."
She studied him for a second. "Not even a little bit?"
He looked at her briefly. "If I wanted to die young, I would choose a more creative method."
That made her laugh under her breath. "Fair."
A pause.
Then Oscar added, more quietly, "You should be the one who tells him, eventually."
Dasom's smile faded slightly. "…Yeah," she said. "I know."
They walked in silence for a few steps. Then Oscar opened the car door for her.
"But not today," he said.
Dasom slid into the seat, pulling the seatbelt across her chest.
"Definitely not today," she agreed.
-
By the time they got back to Oscar's apartment, the city had already started shifting into late afternoon gold.
Inside, everything felt slower again—like the world had decided to pause just for a moment.
Dasom kicked off her shoes near the entrance and immediately flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.
"I could live here permanently," she declared.
Oscar Sparks raised a brow from where he was loosening his sleeves.
"That's a bold statement considering you almost died emotionally twelve hours ago."
"I didn't almost die."
"You cried in the rain."
"That's different."
"It's actually worse."
Dasom grabbed a cushion and threw it at him.
Oscar caught it without even looking.
"That was unfair," she accused.
"It was efficient."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're enjoying this."
"I enjoy accuracy." That earned him another cushion—this time he let it hit. Then he walked over and lightly tapped her forehead.
"Stop thinking so hard."
"I'm not thinking hard."
"You are thinking about Bo."
Dasom immediately sat up. "I am NOT—"
"Your silence confirms it."
She launched herself off the couch.
A second later, they were in a completely unserious scuffle—Dasom trying to push him back, Oscar blocking her with one hand like it was nothing.
"You're insufferable," she muttered.
"You started it."
"You provoked me."
"You mentioned Bo first today."
"That was earlier!"
"And yet here we are."
Dasom shoved him again, harder this time.
Oscar caught both her wrists effortlessly and, with minimal effort, guided her back until her shoulders met the wall behind her.
The movement was smooth, controlled, and entirely unthreatening, but it stopped her mid-retort.
They both paused.
Too close.
Too quiet.
For a split second, neither of them moved. The air between them shifted; not heavy, just aware.
Dasom looked up first.
Oscar looked down.
A beat.
Then another.
And just as quickly Oscar exhaled lightly, breaking the moment with a faint smile. "You're strong for someone who loses arguments emotionally."
Dasom blinked, then let out a breathy laugh.
"Shut up."
He released her wrists immediately and stepped back like nothing had happened. Like that moment didn't sit a fraction differently than everything else.
Dasom straightened her hoodie, clearing her throat. "…What time does grandfather land again?" she asked, slightly too fast.
Oscar glanced at his watch.
"7:30 PM."
"And we're heading to the airport at what time?"
"6:15."
"Okay," she nodded. "Cool."
They lingered for a second longer in the living room, both of them deliberately resuming normal behaviour like a silent agreement had been made not to acknowledge anything that didn't need acknowledging.
Oscar returned to his laptop.
Dasom returned to the couch.
Nothing was said about the wall.
A few hours later, they were in the car again heading toward the airport. The sky outside had shifted into deep amber and navy tones, city lights beginning to flicker on.
The VIP terminal was quiet when they arrived it was clean, spacious and controlled. Oscar walked slightly behind Dasom without being obvious about it, just close enough. Dasom adjusted her jacket as they entered.
"I feel like I'm about to meet royalty," she muttered.
"You are," Oscar replied flatly.
She glanced at him. "That was unhelpful."
"It's true."
They moved into the VIP waiting area where a few familiar faces were already gathered. And that's when Dasom saw them.
First, a university friend she hadn't expected to run into.
"Dasom?!"
Before she could fully react, she was pulled into a quick, excited hug.
"Oh my god, I thought you were still in Cambridge!"
"I was," Dasom laughed, slightly overwhelmed. "I am technically supposed to be there right now."
Then her gaze shifted slightly. And she saw who was accompanying ger friend; Bo.
Oscar subtly stepped closer without making it obvious. Not protective in a loud way.
Just… present.
Bo noticed her at the same time.
His expression flickered; surprise first, then something more restrained.
"Hey," he said carefully.
Dasom gave a small nod. "Hey."
The space between them felt different now. Not tense.
Just… defined.
Oscar didn't interrupt.
Didn't speak for her.
But he didn't move away either.
Bo's eyes briefly flicked to him, then back to Dasom.
"…You good?" Bo asked quietly.
Dasom hesitated. Then nodded. "Yeah."
A pause.
Then she added, softer, "I'm good."
Oscar finally spoke then, not cold, not hostile.
"We're here for President Lee's arrival."
That reminded everyone of the moment.
Bo nodded once. "Right."
The conversation shifted naturally after that, as more people gathered and the airport staff began preparing the arrival announcements.
But Dasom stayed exactly where she was.
And Oscar stayed exactly where he was.
Not touching.
Not interfering.
Just close enough that she didn't feel alone.
-
Dasom watched as her university friend and Bo gradually moved off toward the main exit, their conversation fading into the hum of the terminal.
For a brief moment, she just stood there, exhaling and steadying herself. Then her attention shifted. Through the glass doors of the VIP arrival corridor, she saw them.
Her grandparents.
Immediately, whatever composure she'd been holding together slipped. She moved before she even realised it. "Grandma! Grandpa!"
Oscar Sparks stayed back a step, letting her go without interference.
Dasom ran straight into her grandparents' arms, wrapping them both in a tight embrace.
Her grandmother held her face gently, inspecting her with immediate concern. "Oh, my darling girl…"
Her grandfather, firm but warm, patted her back. "You look thinner."
"I'm not—" Dasom started automatically, then gave up and just smiled. "I missed you both."
Her grandmother softened instantly, brushing her hair back. "We missed you more."
Dasom laughed lightly, still holding on like she wasn't planning to let go anytime soon. Then, remembering something, she pulled back slightly.
"I came with Oscar!" she said quickly, turning toward her grandfather with a small, proud nod, like she was presenting a fact in court.
Her grandfather raised a brow. "Did you now?"
Before Dasom could elaborate, Oscar had already stepped forward.
"Good evening," he greeted respectfully, inclining his head toward both elders.
Her grandfather studied him for a moment—measured, assessing in that familiar way he always did.
Then he nodded once.
"Eugene's boy. There is a reason he is my right hand, soon to be your brothers" he said simply.
Oscar didn't react beyond a polite acknowledgment. "That's right, sir."
Her grandmother smiled faintly. "Still so well-mannered. You've been taking care of her?"
Dasom immediately interjected. "He has been taking care of me too much."
Oscar glanced at her. "That's not what you said earlier."
She shot him a look. "Earlier doesn't count."
Her grandfather gave a low hum, clearly amused.
"Good," he said at last. "Then I don't have to worry about her wandering off and disappearing again."
Dasom groaned. "Grandpa—"
He raised a hand slightly. "I said what I said."
Oscar's mouth twitched faintly at the exchange but he stayed silent.
As the group began walking toward the exit, Dasom naturally fell into step between her grandparents—sandwiched comfortably in the familiar space she hadn't realised she missed so much.
Oscar walked just slightly behind them, close enough to be included, far enough to be discreet.
Her grandmother glanced back at him. "You'll be joining us at the estate?"
Oscar nodded. "For the meeting with Mingyu, yes."
Her grandfather gave a small approving sound. "Good. He listens to you more than he admits."
Dasom immediately turned her head. "Excuse me?"
Oscar didn't look at her. "I don't know what he's talking about."
"That's a lie."
"It's diplomacy."
She huffed under her breath, but there was a faint smile on her face anyway.
As they stepped out into the evening air, the lights of arriving cars reflecting off the polished VIP pavement, Dasom felt something settle quietly in her chest.
The chaos of the past twenty-four hours didn't disappear. But for now she wasn't carrying it alone.
-
Dasom stepped back slightly, still holding onto her grandparents' hands, and gave them an affectionate once-over.
Both of them looked effortlessly put together; elegant, refined, but with a subtle modern edge that wasn't typical of their usual formal styling.
Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Did you guys get a new stylist?" she asked. "Because this is kind of unfair. You're both aging backwards."
Her grandmother laughed softly, clearly pleased.
Her grandfather, however, responded with his usual calm bluntness. "Oscar helps us with our clothing now."
Oscar, who had been standing just behind them, paused very slightly.
Dasom turned her head toward him slowly.
"…You?"
Oscar didn't look particularly bothered. "It was necessary," he replied evenly.
Dasom blinked. "You styled my grandparents?"
"I advised them."
"That's the same thing."
"It isn't."
Her grandfather gave a quiet hum of approval.
"He has good judgment."
Her grandmother nodded in agreement.
"And better taste than most of the staff we've had."
Dasom slowly turned back toward Oscar, squinting at him like she was seeing a completely new version of him.
"You're just secretly involved in everyone's life, aren't you?"
Oscar met her gaze without hesitation. "Only when it requires fixing. It is my job afterall."
"That was not a denial," she pointed out.
"It wasn't an accusation."
Her grandmother smiled at the exchange, clearly entertained.
Dasom exhaled, shaking her head slightly as she linked her arm back through her grandmother's.
"I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned."
Oscar finally allowed a faint smirk. "You can be both."
Dasom pointed at him. "I don't like that answer."
"You rarely like mine."
"That's also true."
Her grandfather began walking ahead, signalling for them to follow.
"Come," he said. "Let's not keep Mingyu waiting."
As they started toward the exit again, Dasom glanced back once more at Oscar walking just behind them—calm, composed, like he had always belonged in this space.
And for some reason, that thought stayed with her a little longer than it should have.