The next day at the shrine of Master Hwang, Taekyun woke up feeling… different. For the first time in days, his body wasn't weighed down by nightmares or the gnawing exhaustion that came after them. Instead, his chest felt light, as though he had borrowed peace from somewhere unfamiliar.
But when his eyes fluttered open and he shifted, he froze. He wasn't lying on the floor. His head was resting on Rinwoo's lap.
Rinwoo sat against the cold stone wall, back slightly bent, arms crossed, his breathing even. He must have stayed awake until sleep claimed him like this.
Taekyun swallowed. His gaze fell onto Rinwoo's face. He had never really looked at him this closely before never noticed how soft his features were when he wasn't scowling or teasing. His lashes curved long enough to brush against his cheeks, a faint shadow beneath his eyes speaking of sleepless nights. And there just beneath his lip, a tiny mole he had never noticed before. Another one, faint but visible, near his eye.
Why… why had he never realized Rinwoo looked like this? Angelic. Almost untouchable.
Before he even noticed, Taekyun was staring. The longer he stared, the harder it became to look away, like some spell was pinning him in place.
Rinwoo stirred. His lashes fluttered, his lips parting slightly as his eyes blinked open. The realization hit Taekyun like a shock. He jerked upright, clearing his throat and turning his head away so quickly it almost hurt his neck.
Rinwoo blinked at him, dazed, until it clicked Taekyun had been staring. A faint blush crept up Rinwoo's cheeksm
Before either of them could speak, Taekyun's phone buzzed loudly in the silence. He seized it like a lifeline, standing abruptly. "I need to take this," he muttered, and slipped out of the room without looking back.
Left behind, Rinwoo sat frozen for a moment before his hand unconsciously brushed his cheek. His heart drummed far too fast for such a small thing. "...Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though the corner of his lips betrayed him with a tiny smile.
He tried to stand, but the sharp ache in his knees forced a wince out of him. Hours of sitting in the same position supporting Taekyun's weight all night had left his legs stiff and trembling.
Still, Rinwoo couldn't help but think it had been worth it.
Meanwhile, outside the guest room, Taekyun pressed his phone to his ear, trying to calm the strange fluttering in his chest. The screen had flashed Yuna, and the moment he answered, her sweet voice poured through.
"Taekyun-ah," she cooed softly, "why aren't you picking up my calls quickly these days? Are you busy?"
He leaned against one of the shrine's wooden pillars, tilting his head back with a quiet sigh. "…I've been occupied," he replied, voice low, trying to steady himself.
Yuna giggled lightly. "Busy with what? Don't tell me you're spending too much time with that Rinwoo. I told you...."
"Yuna," Taekyun cut in, sharper than he intended. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. "What do you need?"
There was a pause on the other end before she said, in a deliberately soft, almost childlike tone, "I… need to buy something. I need money."
Taekyun's jaw tightened. "You've been spending like water already," he muttered. "It's not..." He stopped himself, biting down on his irritation. "…It's not good, Yuna."
Her voice instantly shifted, growing defensive. "So what? Are you suddenly low on money now? Is that why you're talking to me like this?"
Taekyun exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "It's not about being low on money. It's about responsibility. You can't just..." He stopped again, then sighed, defeated. "...Forget it. I'll send it."
On the other end, Yuna's tone brightened instantly. "I knew you'd understand! You're the best, Taekyun."
But as he hung up, Taekyun didn't feel like the best. He felt… drained. The warmth he'd carried after waking up was gone, replaced by a strange hollowness. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and stared out into the shrine's quiet courtyard, the image of Rinwoo's sleeping face flashing unbidden in his mind.
He shook his head harshly. Why the hell am I even thinking about that right now?
Back at the Lee estate, the air was tense and suffocating. Mr. Lee paced back and forth across the polished floor of the living room, his cane tapping sharply against the tiles with each step. His face was red with anger, and his eyes burned like wildfire when the servant returned with Daon and Eunjae in tow.
"Look at this!" Mr. Lee snapped, thrusting the tablet in Eunjae's direction. The screen flashed with the breaking news from last night videos of Eunjae clinging to strangers at the club, dancing like a stripper, and drunkenly shouting curses about the Lee family. And the final blow Daon's hand slapping him hard before dragging him out.
The entire city had seen it.
Instead of shame, Eunjae leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, lips curling into a smug smirk. "Wow," he drawled mockingly, "they even got my good angle. Shouldn't you be proud, old man? Your son-in-law's famous now."
"Eunjae!" Daon's voice came sharp, full of warning. He shot him a glare, desperate to shut him up before things got worse. "Behave."
But Eunjae only rolled his eyes, turning his face away like a spoiled child refusing to listen.
The vein in Mr. Lee's forehead pulsed. His cane slammed against the floor with a crack! that echoed through the room. "Enough!" he roared, his chest heaving. "Guards!"
Two men in black uniforms rushed in at once. Mr. Lee pointed directly at Eunjae, his voice cold and merciless. "Strip him. Tie him outside in the cold. Pour buckets of ice water over him until he remembers what shame feels like."
Daon's entire body jolted. "Father...!"
He stepped in front of Eunjae without thinking, his arm stretched wide, shielding him with his own body. The guards hesitated, confused, as Daon's eyes locked onto his father's. "Please," he said, his voice lower but trembling with fear, "give him one last chance. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Don't… don't punish him like this."
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Eunjae's mocking expression faltered, his smirk fading into something softer, shocked. His wide eyes flicked up at Daon, disbelieving. Why… why is he standing in front of me?
Mr. Lee's lips pressed into a thin, furious line. The sight of his "perfect" son his pride, his heir standing against him, protecting that reckless, shameful boy… it made his blood boil.
"You dare defy me for him?" Mr. Lee's voice was low, dangerous.
Daon didn't flinch, though every muscle in his body was coiled tight with terror. "I am not defying you. I am asking for clemency. This punishment… it's excessive. It will only breed more resentment."
"Resentment?" Mr. Lee took a step closer, his presence towering and oppressive. The cane in his hand wasn't just for show. "He has made this family a laughingstock! He spat on our name in a den of filth for the world to see! And you speak to me of his resentment?"
"I will take responsibility," Daon insisted, his voice gaining a sliver of steel. "He is my husband. His actions reflect on me. Therefore, his punishment is mine to bear."
A cruel, mirthless smile twisted Mr. Lee's mouth. "Is that so? The dutiful son finally finds his spine, not for the family, but for this… this creature we were forced to tie ourselves to." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper meant only for Daon. "Do not mistake my patience for weakness, Daon. Move. Now."
The air crackled with the unspoken threat. Daon knew the cost of defiance. He had seen it levied against others his entire life. But the image of Eunjae, bound and freezing, being tortured… something primal in him refused to yield.
"No," Daon said, the word barely more than a breath, but it echoed in the silent room with the force of a gunshot.
Mr. Lee's eyes widened in pure, unadulterated fury. The betrayal was a physical blow. Without another word, his arm snapped out. The cane whistled through the air and connected with Daon's raised forearm with a sickening thwack.
Daon grunted, his body shuddering from the impact, but he didn't move from his protective stance in front of Eunjae. The pain was sharp and immediate.
Eunjae's shocked gasp was audible behind him. The smug act was completely gone, replaced by wide-eyed horror.
"You will learn your place," Mr. Lee seethed, his composure shattered. He raised the cane again, this time aiming for Daon's shoulder. "If you wish to share in his disgrace, then so be it!"
The second blow landed, harder than the first. Daon's knees buckled, but he forced himself to stay upright, his arm still outstretched, a human shield accepting every strike meant for the man behind him. Each impact was a lesson, a punishment for his disobedience, but Daon wore them silently, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He had chosen his side. There was no stepping back now.
Mr. Lee told the gaurd to take Daon instead and whip him 50 times. The guards' hands were like iron manacles on Daon's biceps. He didn't struggle, didn't plead. His face was a pale, bloodless mask, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the wall, as if by not looking at anyone, he could remove himself from the horror of the moment. He allowed himself to be turned and marched towards the grand double doors, his posture ramrod straight even in disgrace.
Eunjae's breath hitched in his throat. The smug defiance that had been his armor shattered into a thousand piercing shards. This wasn't a game anymore. This was real, brutal, and it was his fault. He watched Daon's retreating back, the dark fabric of his suit jacket where the cane had struck, and a cold, sick dread pooled in his stomach.
"Stop." The word was out of Eunjae's mouth before he could stop it, raw and stripped of its usual mocking edge.
Mr. Lee didn't even glance his way. The guards hesitated for a fraction of a second but continued at a sharp gesture from their master.
"I said stop!" Eunjae lunged forward, but two other guards materialized from the edges of the room, catching him and holding him back easily. He fought against their grip, his heart hammering against his ribs. "It was me! I did it! Punish me, you old bastard! He didn't do anything!"
Daon, at the threshold, flinched almost imperceptibly, but he didn't turn around. He kept walking, out into the crisp, cold air of the estate's front courtyard.
Mr. Lee finally turned his glacial gaze on Eunjae. "Oh, he did," he said, his voice quiet and terrifyingly calm. "He forgot his place. He chose you over this family. That requires a lesson far more… indelible… than ice water."
Outside, the guards forced Daon to his knees on the cold gravel of the driveway and took his jacket off, just inside the main gates. One guard produced a short, heavy leather whip. He looked sick, his eyes darting towards the house, hoping for a reprieve that wouldn't come.
The first crack of the lash was a sound that didn't belong in the pristine morning air. It was sharp, wet, and final.
Eunjae flinched as if struck himself. From the doorway, he could see the line of tension that snapped through Daon's body. His shoulders jerked, but he made no sound. He didn't cry out. He just knelt, back straight, head bowed, accepting it.
Why? The question screamed in Eunjae's mind, drowning out the sound of the second strike. Why are you doing this? You hate me. You slapped me. You dragged me out. Why won't you just let him break me?
The third lash. A faint, dark line began to bloom through the fine white fabric of Daon's dress shirt.
Eunjae's struggles ceased. He went limp in the guards' arms, all the fight draining out of him, replaced by a suffocating wave of guilt and a strange, aching pain he couldn't name. He watched, helpless, as the methodical punishment continued. Each impact was a condemnation of his own actions, a debt he was incurring that was being paid with Daon's flesh.
He saw the minute tremors that began to wrack Daon's frame after the tenth strike. Saw the way his knuckles were white where his hands were clenched on his thighs. Still, he was silent.
This wasn't the cold, perfect heir of the Lee family. This was something else. Something stubborn and unbreakable and… and for him.
The realization was a physical blow. Daon was enduring this, not for duty, not for the family name, but for him. He was choosing to stand or kneel between Eunjae and the consequences, absorbing the fury meant for him.
Eunjae's vision blurred. He looked away from the brutal spectacle outside and instead looked at Mr. Lee, who watched his son's flogging with a face of stone, a man more concerned with order than with the son he was destroying.
And in that moment, Eunjae understood the true cost of his rebellion. It wasn't his own pain that would be the price. It was Daon's. And for the first time since he'd been forced into this gilded cage, the thought of someone else suffering for his actions was utterly unbearable. He knelt for the first time, not out of fear for himself, but in a silent, desperate plea for the man kneeling outside. The fight was gone, leaving only a hollow, aching shame.
Eunjae's knees hit the cold marble floor, his lips parting, the words of surrender right at the tip of his tongue. His pride screamed at him to hold back, but his heart was louder if begging was what it took to stop Daon's punishment, then he would do it. But before the words escaped, Mr. Lee turned away, his robes sweeping behind him, his expression unreadable as he left the hall.
Eunjae's voice caught in his throat, useless now, and his eyes followed the retreating figure. What broke him wasn't Mr. Lee's coldness it was the sound of the whip striking flesh.
Eunjae's chest tightened. Why… why won't you break? Why won't you scream? His hands trembled against the floor, guilt digging its claws into him. It was unbearable watching Daon's body take the punishment meant for his mistakes, watching a man kneel unbroken where Eunjae himself felt like he was crumbling inside.
Meanwhile, at the shrine hall, incense curled into the air, heavy and sharp, clinging to the wooden beams above. Taekyun sat cross-legged beside Taemin and Rinwoo, his hands resting tensely on his knees. Master Hwang, ancient yet sharp-eyed, studied him in silence for a long moment before finally asking,
"So..what's the problem?"
Taekyun's throat tightened. He glanced at his brother, then lowered his gaze to the floor, hesitating. His fingers clenched. "…It's… happening again," he muttered.
Master Hwang's brows furrowed, but he did not interrupt.
Taekyun drew in a shaky breath. "The sharp things they rise around me when I sleep. This time… they didn't just surround me. They attacked. They cut through the walls. I felt them pressing closer and closer aimed directly at me."
Taemin stiffened at his side, his hand instinctively reaching toward his brother's sleeve.
Master Hwang closed his eyes for a moment, his long exhale heavy. "…The curse grows restless. The bloodline resists its chain. What you saw is not something normal it's warning..."
The air in the shrine grew colder, and Taekyun's heart pounded.
Master Hwang's cloudy eyes softened when they fell on Taekyun, who was sitting silently across from him. The boy's face was calm, but the weight of uncertainty pressed heavily around him. Rinwoo sat beside Taekyun, his expression filled with quiet concern, waiting for the old monk's words.
Master Hwang opened his mouth as if to speak but stopped. His lips pressed into a thin line, and instead, he let out a long, weary sigh. So much needed to be said, yet the truth was too heavy to place on Rinwoo's shoulders all at once. His heart ached with the burden of knowing what the curse demanded.
Slowly, Master Hwang pulled a piece of parchment toward him and scribbled something down with careful strokes. Then, with practiced fingers, he folded it neatly, slipped it into a small metal case of a locket. His hands shook slightly as he pressed the chain into Taekyun's palm.
"Always wear this," the monk said, his voice rough with age yet steady with intent. "It will not silence the warnings of the curse… but it will shield you from its harshest blows."
Taekyun lowered his eyes to the locket. For a moment, he didn't speak, only brushed his thumb across the cold metal. Then he nodded firmly and slipped it over his neck, the chain resting against his skin like a fragile promise.
Master Hwang exhaled, a faint glimmer of relief flickering in his tired gaze. With effort, he pushed himself to stand. "That is all I can give you for now," he murmured, turning toward Rinwoo. "Help me to my room."
"Yes, Master." Rinwoo was quick to rise. He hurried to the old monk's side, steadying his frail form as they moved toward the narrow corridor.
Taekyun remained seated, fingers curled tightly around the locket as if it were the only thing anchoring him in that moment.
Taemin looked at the locket and immediately covered his mouth, trying to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst out. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he teased,
"Look who's wearing old-fashioned now… the same person who only wears brands, the one who's always perfect in his branded suits and modern style only. Oh, this is rich!"
He let out a chuckle, shaking his head as if he had just witnessed the rarest thing in the world.
Taekyun's jaw tightened. His sharp glare cut across the room like a blade. "You talk too much."
Without saying another word, he stood up. His footsteps were cold and deliberate as he walked toward the door.
Taemin leaned back against the wall behind him , laughing harder now, clutching his stomach. "Yah..don't be so serious! It's just a necklace, Taekyun-ah! You look like a prince trying on his grandma's keepsake."
But Taekyun didn't turn back. His figure disappeared through the doorway, leaving Taemin's laughter echoing in the silence.
And yet, when the laughter faded, Taemin's smile softened a little. His gaze drifted to the door where Taekyun had left. "You're always so serious… can't you ever let me tease you without storming off?" he murmured, almost to himself.