The air in the grand study was cold, smelling of old paper and the bitter scent of the tea his grandfather favored. With his pride a shattered ruin, KK stood in the center of the room, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life. He looked at Grandfather Suwannarat, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had turned bone-white. He took a long, shaky breath, making sure every ounce of his ego had left his body before he finally spoke.
"Please," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "Help me."
Grandfather Suwannarat didn't look up from his desk immediately. When he did, his eyes were like flint. "Give me a good reason why I should. If your reason is not good enough, please do not waste my time."
"I stand before you as your grandson," KK said, the words feeling like ash in his mouth. "Is that not reason enough to help me just once?"
The old man scoffed, a jagged, ugly sound. "Grandson? You only remember you have a grandfather when you are in trouble. When life is easy, you treat me like an obstacle. You talk back." He began to pant with rage, his face reddening. "Are you even sure you are my grandson? My grandson is a full man—not half-male and half-female."
KK flinched as if he had been struck. He knew he was trapped; without the Suwannarat influence, he could never recover what Ohm had stolen. "If you help me this time," KK whispered, "I will never ask for your help again."
"I have already told you the terms," Grandfather said, standing up and leaning heavily on his cane. He moved toward KK like an approaching storm. "Get married. Give me a great-grandchild. Only then will I put you back in the will and support you."
"You know I cannot change who I am," KK argued, his voice breaking.
"You know that one day, this 'disease' in your body will lead you to a life of addiction!" the old man shouted, his cane thumping against the floor. "If I let you live as you please, I won't have the courage to face Jiro-san in the afterlife." He sighed, the anger turning into a cold, hard disappointment. "If you had just married your fiancée, you would never have fallen into this delusional abyss."
"She was the one who broke the engagement, not me," KK reminded him.
"And have you ever wondered why she broke it?" Grandfather asked, his voice dropping to a deadly, quiet hiss. "She saw the rot inside you before I did."
Grandfather Suwannarat's face twisted with a mad, righteous fury. "Nonsense! The real reason she broke the engagement is because you are not a complete man. Just because you are an adult standing before me doesn't mean you are exempt from our blood. In this family, parents choose partners. Parents know what is best. These are the rules every Suwannarat must follow, or they are no Suwannarat at all."
KK looked at the old man, his heart feeling like a lead weight in his chest. "What about the happiness of the children?" he asked, his voice low but steady. "Is that not important at all?"
The old man's reaction was instantaneous. He closed the distance between them, his face inches from KK's. "You dare talk back now? You come to me for help, and you use your tongue to defy me? You are a poisonous child. Has no one taught you to seal your mouth when your elders speak?"
Without warning, the grandfather raised his heavy wooden cane. The first blow caught KK across his shoulder, followed by a rain of strikes across his back and buttocks. KK didn't move; he took the pain in silence as the old man vented decades of rigid expectation.
"I am ashamed!" the grandfather roared, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I am ashamed to stand beside you. I put all my hopes in you for Jiro-san's sake! And now you think you can walk freely? I don't even know who you are anymore. When I look at you, I don't see my grandson—all I see is a weirdo looking back at me!"
The beating stopped only when the old man ran out of breath. He limped back to his chair and sat down, his hands trembling with adrenaline. He picked up a thick yellow envelope and threw it. It struck KK in the chest before fluttering to the floor like a dead bird.
"What is this?" KK asked, staring at the yellow paper.
"Since you are no longer in my will, this is a contract," his grandfather spat. "Let us deal with your failures as I deal with any other business transaction. I will pay off your debts, but you will marry your fiancée. If you sign, I will call the Bho family. Whether the daughter wants it or not, the wedding will happen before the month ends."
KK clenched the envelope. He thought of Ohm, who had used him for money, and now his grandfather was asking him to use a woman for status. "And if I don't?"
"Then you deal with your own ruin."
KK looked at the desk, then at the man who shared his blood but none of his heart. He realized that to sign that paper was to betray the very essence of himself. He still believed, perhaps foolishly, that a marriage should be built on love, not a bailout.
He took three steps back, distancing himself from the Suwannarat legacy. "I came to you today as a grandson," KK said, his voice cold and clear. "But I turned out to be a weirdo in your eyes. From this moment on, I will never ask you for help again. Even if I become a beggar on the street, I will never knock on your door."
"Good!" the old man barked.
KK turned toward the heavy oak doors. But as his hand reached for the handle, a memory flickered in his mind—a question he had asked his grandmother years ago. He had asked her why, in all their years of marriage, she never held Grandfather's hand.
The memory surfaced with painful clarity, a sharp contrast to the shouting match in the study. Years ago, the sunlight had been soft in Grandmother's room. KK had been sitting beside her, carefully feeding her, the atmosphere thick with the quiet intimacy of care.
"Grandma," KK had asked, his young voice full of innocent curiosity. "As long as I can remember, you have never held Grandpa's hand. I see other grandparents holding hands all the time. Do you just not like holding hands with people?"
Grandmother Suwannarat had smiled, but it was a tired, hollow expression. "Because they weren't too embarrassed to express their love to each other," she had sighed, her gaze drifting toward the window. "I'm tired now, Hinata. Let's talk tomorrow."
But "tomorrow" had never come with an answer—only the realization that there was no love left to express.
Back in the present, the silence in the study was deafening. KK's hand tightened on the doorknob. He turned around one last time, his eyes boring into the man who claimed to know what was "best" for his family.
"Even on her deathbed, she wouldn't hold your hand," KK said, his voice cold and steady. "Have you ever wondered why, Grandpa? Have you ever wondered why she chose to die alone rather than feel your touch?"
The reaction was explosive. Grandfather Suwannarat surged to his feet, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. He slammed his hand onto the mahogany desk with a force that rattled the inkwells.
"Get out!" he screamed, his voice cracking with a mixture of rage and a truth he couldn't face. "Go die! You poisonous child! You weirdo! Get out of my sight!"
KK didn't wait for a second command. He opened the door and stepped out, the heavy oak thudding shut behind him like the lid of a casket. He walked through the marble halls of the Suwannarat estate, feeling the weight of the yellow envelope he had left behind.
He stepped out into the night. The sky had finally broken, and the rain began to pour, washing away the last of the Suwannarat name from his skin. He had no money, no home, and no family left. He walked toward the beach, the sound of the waves calling to him, a siren song for a man who felt he no longer had a place on solid ground.
Meanwhile, across the city at the airport, the world seemed deceptively calm. Mrs. Cole stared out the window at a light, rhythmic rain, but a cold premonition was already taking root in her chest.
"It will be fine," Mr. Cole said gently, noticing her hands shaking. "It's only light rain; it won't affect the flight."
Mrs. Cole turned to him, tears finally spilling over. She kissed him briefly, a goodbye fueled by a sudden, frantic need to stay. "Call me the moment you reach Sydney. I'm so sorry... I can't leave. I have to make sure KK is okay before I go home."
She leaned into him, her voice muffled by his coat. "If I had run away with you after college, you would have been his father. I wouldn't have had to leave him as a toddler. Maybe... maybe his life wouldn't be spiraling like this."
"Everything will be fine in the future, Yumi," Mr. Cole whispered, holding her tight.
"I hate myself," she sobbed. "I'm mad that I brought him into a world where I'm not there to fight his battles. When someone yells at him, or treats him like he's a mistake, I'm not there to defend him. When he cries for me, I can't hold him. I'm a bad mother. God is punishing me for failing him."
"Yumi, you are a great mother," Mr. Cole insisted. "No one blames you, especially not KK. We will help him. We will get through this as a family."
The moment was shattered by the sharp ring of her phone. It was Mr. Suwannarat.
"KK didn't meet me at the bank this morning," the voice on the other end said, sounding more confused than worried.
"What do you mean?" Mrs. Cole's voice sharpened with maternal panic.
"We're here waiting, but he isn't answering. I thought he was with you... that you were taking him to Australia today."
"Where is he?" she muttered, her heart plummeting into a dark, hollow space. She hung up and dialed KK frantically, but each ring was a hammer blow to her hope. "I'm sorry... I can't see you off. I have to find my son. Right now, he's scared. He needs someone to hold him... what if he decides to..."
She didn't finish the sentence. They raced to KK's house, the air inside stagnant and cold. Mrs. Cole didn't wait; she pushed through the door and found the living room in a state of violent disarray—shattered glass and overturned furniture, the physical manifestation of a mental breakdown.
She sprinted to KK's bedroom, her eyes darting to the nightstand. She reached for the velvet-lined box where he kept the pistol her father had given him for protection.
The box was empty.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. Mrs. Cole fell to her knees, her scream echoing through the empty, messy house. "No! Hinata! No...!"