Meanwhile, at the Lee estate, Daon had been calling Eunjae for hours. Each time, the call rang and went unanswered. His patience was thinning with every minute that passed. Eunjae was reckless, but tonight something felt different it was too quiet, too long.
Finally, his guard called.
"Sir, we tracked master Eunjae's phone location. He's at The Velvet club"
Daon's jaw tightened, his fingers curling around the phone until his knuckles turned white. Of course it had to be there the one place he despised the most. The pounding music, the flashing lights, the chaos… it was everything Eunjae adored and everything Daon hated.
Without wasting a second, Daon grabbed his keys. His sleek black car roared to life as he sped through the city streets, frustration burning hotter with each turn of the wheel.
The thought of Eunjae carelessly swaying on the dance floor, surrounded by strangers, letting himself go without a care—made Daon's chest twist painfully.
The neon lights of the club finally came into view, and Daon's eyes narrowed as he pulled up outside. The bass of the music was loud enough to rattle the windows of his car. He stepped out, straightening his coat, his expression dark and unreadable.
The club was suffocating with the mix of perfume, smoke, and laughter. Lights flashed against sweaty faces, phones raised high as if everyone was desperate to capture a piece of scandal. Daon pushed his way through the crowd, his jaw set tight, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed him. He had no patience left not tonight.
And then he saw him.
Eunjae.
Standing in the center of attention, flushed and reckless, his drink sloshing dangerously in his hand as he laughed too loudly. Cameras pointed at him from every angle, and Daon felt his blood boil. Without another thought, he strode forward, cutting through the sea of strangers, and grabbed Eunjae's wrist.
"Enough," Daon hissed under his breath, trying to drag him out.
But Eunjae yanked back, stubbornness flashing in his eyes. "No. Don't touch me like you own me!" His voice rose, demanding the entire club's attention.
Everyone went quiet except for the hum of phones recording.
"Look at this!" Eunjae's voice cracked as he spread his arms wide, his wrist still caught in Daon's grip. "This....this man is supposed to be my husband! My so-called fated match!" He laughed bitterly, almost drunkenly, but his words were sharp. "Because of some old curse… some family shame… now some wrinkled old monk thinks I'm tied to him." He shoved Daon's hand away and pointed directly at him, his voice dripping with mockery. "Pathetic, isn't it? The great Lee family, bound to me. Bound to a mistake."
Whispers spread like fire. People leaned closer, phones lifted higher. Eunjae's lips curved into a cruel smile he was enjoying every second of it.
Daon's chest tightened. His family name, dragged through the mud. Their curse, their shame, paraded before strangers. His eyes darkened, patience fraying.
"Stop it, Eunjae," he warned, voice low but shaking with suppressed rage.
But Eunjae only tilted his head, smirking. "Why? Embarrassed? Oh, come on, Daon… everyone should know how cursed your family really is. Everyone should know you're nothing without—"
The sound of Daon's hand striking Eunjae's cheek cracked through the club like thunder.
Gasps filled the air. The music cut. Phones stopped shaking, frozen in the hands that held them.
Eunjae's head whipped to the side, his cheek burning red, eyes wide in stunned silence.
Daon's expression was carved from stone, jaw clenched, his chest heaving as if he had been holding back far too long. Without a word, he tightened his grip on Eunjae's wrist and began to drag him toward the exit. His aura, usually cold but restrained, was now boiling with fury one that silenced even the whispers daring to rise again.
Eunjae struggled, still intoxicated, but Daon's strength was unyielding. The more Eunjae resisted, the harsher Daon's pull became, until it was clear this was no longer a husband embarrassed this was a man whose patience had shattered.
"Daon...let me go!" Eunjae shrieked, his voice cracking, but instead of jeers, the crowd now only watched with stunned eyes, no one daring to interfere.
At the door, Daon stopped, turning to the murmuring audience. His eyes, dark with rage, swept over them. "You've seen enough," he growled, his tone low and commanding, and just like that, every single phone was lowered, trembling hands fumbling to hide them. No one dared to defy the eldest son of the Lee family.
Then, without another word, he pulled Eunjae outside into the cold night air, the heavy doors shutting behind them with a thud that seemed final, like the end of something fragile breaking.
Meanwhile
Rinwoo lingered in the shrine hall, his eyes darting nervously around the stillness. The soft glow of lanterns reflected against the wooden beams, but instead of calming him, it only deepened the unease curling in his chest. He had wanted to go back to his room, yet Taekyun's sharp words from earlier still stung in his ears. His feet felt heavy, rooted with hesitation.
Finally, he lowered himself onto the cool wooden floor of the hall, knees drawn close, deciding against entering. He hugged his arms to his chest as if shielding himself from an unseen force.
The sliding door creaked open. Taemin stepped out, carrying an empty water jug, his expression absent until his gaze fell on Rinwoo. He blinked, startled, and tilted his head.
"Hyung, do you need something?" Taemin asked gently, his voice breaking the silence.
Rinwoo startled and shot up too quickly, fumbling with his fingers. "Ah ..no, no. I was just… just out for some air," he muttered, his eyes fixed anywhere but on Taemin's face.
But Taemin's sharp instincts caught the uneasiness. He set the jug aside and approached slowly, studying Rinwoo. "Did Taekyun hyung said something to you?" he pressed, his tone laced with suspicion.
Rinwoo's eyes widened. He shook his head rapidly, almost desperately. "No, no, nothing. He didn't… he didn't say anything."
Taemin didn't buy it. Crossing his arms, he leaned slightly forward, his brows furrowing. "You're lying. I can tell."
Panic flickered across Rinwoo's face. He forced a weak smile and waved his hands. "Seriously. Look...I'm going back to the room. Nothing happened."
And with that, he turned away, his steps brisk but unsteady. Taemin remained where he stood, watching Rinwoo retreat toward the shared guest room. His jaw tightened. Something was wrong...very wrong....but Rinwoo was hiding it.
Inside the guest room, Taekyun sat slouched against the wooden wall, his laptop balanced on his lap. His brows were deeply furrowed, one hand clutching his temple, his eyes shut tight. He looked worn, weighed down, as if every thought in his head was pressing down too heavily.
Rinwoo stood by the door, hesitant. His heart ached at the sight, but doubt gnawed at him should I step closer? Should I leave him be? Still, his concern outweighed his fear. Slowly, he padded across the tatami floor until he was beside Taekyun's futon.
With trembling fingers, Rinwoo reached out and pressed his palm softly against Taekyun's forehead.
Taekyun flinched instantly, his eyes snapping open to meet Rinwoo's. That familiar coldness was there, sharp and cutting, making Rinwoo's chest tighten.
"I… I just wanted to help," Rinwoo whispered, his gaze falling to the floor. His throat felt tight as he added, "If you'd let me… I could massage your head."
For a long moment, Taekyun only stared at him, expression unreadable. Rinwoo braced himself for rejection but instead, Taekyun dropped his gaze and gave the smallest nod.
Rinwoo blinked in surprise, his breath catching. Carefully, he sat beside him and began massaging his temples with delicate, practiced motions. His fingertips moved gently, yet firmly enough to ease the tension.
To Taekyun's surprise, the sharp pounding in his head began to dull. The knots in his body slowly loosened. And then there was that scent a soft, clean fragrance that wasn't perfume, wasn't cologne, but something warm and natural that seemed to calm his restless mind.
"What scent… do you use?" Taekyun muttered, almost without thinking.
"H-huh?" Rinwoo blinked, startled. He quickly sniffed at his sleeve, then his shirt, panic flaring. "Do I smell? I don't… I don't use anything."
Taekyun studied him for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching as if he almost wanted to scoff. He shook his head instead. "Strange. A man don't smell this… relaxing." His voice was low, half to himself.
Rinwoo felt a faint flutter in his chest, his ears burning. Still, he kept moving his hands gently, watching Taekyun's furrowed brows soften bit by bit.
After a few minutes of silence, Rinwoo's voice broke through, soft and tentative. "I'm… sorry. For earlier. For always...."
Before he could finish, Taekyun opened his eyes, though he didn't look at Rinwoo. "You did nothing wrong." His tone was quieter than before, almost tired. "It's just… sometimes, because of stress… and the lack of sleep… I get irritated over the smallest things."
Rinwoo's hands stilled for a second. His chest tightened at Taekyun's confession, at the rare glimpse of vulnerability he rarely showed anyone. Gently, he resumed massaging, softer now, as if afraid he might hurt him otherwise.
And for the first time in a long while, sitting there together in silence, Rinwoo felt like Taekyun wasn't pushing him away.
Rinwoo didn't know Taekyun was having trouble sleeping. A faint guilt stirred in him, wishing he had noticed earlier. "You should… try to lie down and rest," Rinwoo suggested softly, expecting another scolding or, at the very least, a sharp glare.
But instead, Taekyun simply shifted closer, lowering himself without hesitation. Before Rinwoo could process what was happening, Taekyun's head came to rest lightly on his lap.
Rinwoo froze. His heart thumped so violently he was sure Taekyun could hear it. He had meant for Taekyun to use the pillow on the futon not his lap. But here he was, stretched out comfortably, eyes closing as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn't that Rinwoo disliked it. But the weight of Taekyun's trust, this rare glimpse of vulnerability, made his chest feel tight. He had never seen Taekyun this way before, and for once, Taekyun himself seemed completely unaware of what he had just done.
Rinwoo's hand trembled at first, unsure if he should even touch Taekyun's hair. His heart was pounding so loudly that he worried Taekyun might somehow hear it even in his sleep. But when he brushed his fingers gently through the strands, Taekyun didn't flinch or scowl he actually seemed to ease, his features softening, shoulders sinking as if the weight he always carried had slipped away.
A tiny, almost childlike snore escaped Taekyun, and Rinwoo couldn't help but stare in awe. This… this is the same Taekyun? The one who glares like the world has wronged him, who doesn't let anyone close? He felt his chest tighten, not in fear but in something warmer, something he couldn't name yet.
His fingers moved slowly, carefully massaging Taekyun's scalp, and he was rewarded by the sight of Taekyun's lips parting slightly, his breathing steady and calm. Rinwoo had never seen him so defenseless.
He trusts me… even if he doesn't know it right now, Rinwoo thought, his cheeks heating. It's like heaven. I could stay like this forever…
He bit back a nervous smile, afraid of disturbing him, but inside, Rinwoo felt as though his whole world had shifted. The fear of scolding, the tension that always wrapped around them none of it mattered in this moment.
It was just the two of them, and Taekyun asleep on his lap like something too precious to disturb.
Back in Lee estate
Daon slammed the door shut behind them, his grip on Eunjae's wrist tight until he shoved him onto the bed. His chest heaved, anger boiling in his voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Eunjae? Do you even realize what kind of shame you're bringing on me? On this house?"
Eunjae snapped back immediately, sitting up, his hair disheveled and eyes blazing. "Shame? That's all you care about, isn't it? Your damn face in front of your father! Not me. Never me!"
Daon's jaw clenched. He pointed a finger at him, trembling in fury. "You think this is about me? This is about the Lee name, about holding the honor of a family that has stood for centuries. You don't get to drag it through the mud because you feel like throwing a tantrum!"
Eunjae laughed bitterly, his voice hoarse. "Honor? Don't make me laugh. You all married me into this cursed house like I was some sacrificial lamb. I didn't choose this life! I don't care about your stupid name, or your family, or your father glaring at me like I'm dirt under his shoe! I'M NOT RINWOO!! WHO'LL SIT AND STAY QUIET!!!"
Daon's hand twitched as if he might slap him again, but he held back, seething."You think I wanted this either? You think I wanted to be shackled to someone who knows nothing but how to spit venom at every turn? At least I'm trying to hold things together!"
Eunjae stood now, his voice rising, raw and shaking."Hold things together? By what? By controlling me? By humiliating me whenever I speak? You're not my savior, Daon. You're just another prison warden in this cursed family!"
Daon's chest rose and fell, his eyes flashing with pride wounded deeper than he'd admit."You're a disgrace, Eunjae. Every word out of your mouth reeks of selfishness. All you care about is yourself, your freedom, your hate while I have to carry the weight of both our names on my shoulders!"
Eunjae's fists tightened at his sides, his voice cutting like glass."You're right. I do only care about myself. Because if I don't, who the hell will? Certainly not you. Certainly not your cold-hearted family who only see me as a tool to lift their curse. I hate this family, Daon. I hate this curse. And I hate this life you're trying to chain me into."
For a moment, silence crackled like fire between them. Daon's nostrils flared, his face unreadable, while Eunjae's chest shook with ragged breaths.
Daon finally muttered, low and venomous "You're going to destroy us all if you keep running your mouth like this."
With that, Daon stormed out, his jaw tight, and slammed his own bedroom door so hard the sound echoed through the long, cold halls of the Lee estate. The walls seemed to shake with the weight of his fury, but Eunjae's rage was even heavier.
He sat up on the bed, fists clenched, his chest heaving as if his anger itself was choking him. The sting on his cheek burned, not just from Daon's slap but from the humiliation of being treated like some unruly child like he was the one who had to bow to the Lee family's image, like his entire life had to bend to Daon's father's precious reputation.
"Pathetic," he spat under his breath, his voice sharp and venomous. "All he cares about is that damned name, that cursed family."
He got up and paced the room, his eyes glinting with hatred. Every corner of the estate suffocated him the polished floors, the neatly painted walls, the suffocating silence of a household built on control and obedience.
Eunjae's mind raced, fueled by spite. "Slap me? I'll show him. I'll make him regret ever raising his hand on me. I'll tear down that perfect little face he wants to show the world."
He sat back down, smirking bitterly, already imagining ways to twist the knife deeper. Perhaps he'd embarrass Daon in front of his father, expose cracks in that flawless mask. Or maybe… maybe he'd remind the Lee family just how much of a curse Eunjae really was loudly, publicly, mercilessly.
"Daon thinks he can control me," he whispered darkly, his fingers digging into the bed sheets. "He thinks I'll bend, just like everyone else in this house. But I'll ruin him before I let him win."