Daon groaned, wincing sharply as Eunjae dabbed the ointment across one of the deeper welts. The sound made Eunjae jump, his smirk disappearing in an instant.
"D..does it hurt? Are you okay?!" Eunjae's words tumbled out faster than he intended, panic breaking through his usual mask. His hand hovered uselessly in the air, not knowing whether to pull back or keep going.
Daon turned his head slightly, catching him with a sidelong glance despite the pain. His voice came out low and strained. "Didn't you just say… you don't care?"
The question hit Eunjae square in the chest. His face burned, ears going red as he stammered for a retort. Instead, he did what Eunjae did best he acted out. Pressing the cloth a little too firmly against Daon's back, he muttered, "Tch, don't get cocky.."
Daon let out a sharp cry, his body jerking. The sound pierced Eunjae like a knife. His eyes widened, his own hand trembling as he quickly pulled back. "Shit...I'm sorry! I didn't mean..."
The words spilled out before he could stop them. For once, Eunjae's tone wasn't mocking, wasn't arrogant..it was desperate, almost breaking. "I'm sorry, Daon. For being… a stupid brat. Because of me, you..." He cut himself off, throat tightening as the image of Daon kneeling and getting whipped because of him replayed in his mind.
Daon, silent, pressed his face into the pillow. His chest rose and fell heavily before he let out a deep, quiet sigh. He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Eunjae sat there frozen, the weight in his chest something more than guilt, something unfamiliar and terrifying. He never thought Daon was anything but cold, controlling, and suffocating. But now… the man lying bruised and silent before him didn't feel like an enemy. For the first time, Eunjae's heart twisted not with hate, but with something dangerously close to care.
Flustered, Eunjae looked away, his voice dropping. "…I'll stay here. In your room. Until you get better."
Daon's body stiffened. He turned his head slightly, his eyes sharp despite the exhaustion. "No. I'm not comfortable sleeping with anyone."
But Eunjae only leaned back against the bedpost, crossing his arms stubbornly. His voice came out firm, almost defiant. "Too bad. You can't tell me what to do."
Daon froze, his eyes narrowing as if to scold him. But instead, silence fell. After a long pause, he sighed again, this time softer, resigned. "…Fine. Do what you want."
Eunjae smirked faintly, trying to mask the heat still rising in his face. But deep down, his chest felt lighter than it had in years.
At the shrine, Rinwoo was about to step outside to get some fresh air, the weight of Master Hwang's words still clinging to him. He slid the wooden door open carefully and stepped into the quiet hall, only to bump into someone.
A young man in his mid-20s stumbled back a step, holding a suitcase in one hand and a shoulder bag in the other. He looked like he had just walked out of the city polished shoes, crisp shirt, hair neatly styled. Everything about him screamed city boy, but not the spoiled or arrogant kind Rinwoo had met before. This one seemed polite.
When his eyes landed on Rinwoo, though, his composure shattered. He froze in place, staring as though he had been struck by lightning. His breath caught in his throat. How… how can someone be this beautiful?
Rinwoo blinked, tilting his head slightly in confusion at the prolonged stare. "…Um, who are you?" he asked softly, his voice uncertain.
The man didn't answer at first. His mind was fogged, everything moving in slow motion as he tried to comprehend the delicate figure in front of him.
Just then, Taekyun, who had been passing by in the hall, noticed the scene. His steps halted when his eyes landed on the stranger, who was openly staring at Rinwoo as if the world around them had disappeared. Something in Taekyun's chest tightened, his jaw clenching as unease spread through him.
His frown deepened, and he strode forward with quiet authority, placing himself slightly between Rinwoo and the stranger. His voice was calm, but laced with edge. "Who are you?"
The man snapped out of his daze, blinking rapidly before bowing politely. "Ah sorry! My name is Beom Seok. I… just finished my studies at Seoul University, so.. I came back home."
Both Rinwoo and Taekyun exchanged a glance, startled by his words. Back home?
Rinwoo blinked again, confused. "…Home? What do you mean?"
Beom Seok's polite smile returned as he adjusted the strap of his bag. "I'm the son of Master Hwang."
The words dropped like a stone in the air. Rinwoo's lips parted slightly, disbelief flashing in his eyes. Taekyun's frown only deepened, his unease now sharpened into something heavier.
Son of Master Hwang?
That wasn't possible.
They let him in. Taekyun's brows furrowed, a strange uneasiness washing over him the moment the man stepped inside. He couldn't place it, but something about Beom Seok made his instincts tighten.
Master Hwang, however, seemed completely at ease more than that, he smiled, his wrinkled face softening as he embraced Beom Seok warmly.
Rinwoo tilted his head, still unable to believe what he was seeing. Master Hwang… has a son? The thought sounded unreal in his head, yet the sight before his eyes told him otherwise. Strangely, watching them like this filled his chest with warmth. The bond between the old master and Beom Seok looked so genuine, so endearing, that Rinwoo couldn't help but smile sweetly.
Taekyun, arms crossed, stood stiff at the side, his expression sharp and expectant. He wasn't one to be swayed by emotions he wanted answers.
Before Master Hwang could speak, Taemin appeared, walking in from the yard with the faint smell of smoke still clinging to his clothes. His brows shot up at the unfamiliar face.
"Who's this?" he asked, curiosity dripping from his voice before a sly grin tugged at his lips. "Wait don't tell me… the great Master Hwang, one hundred and eight years old, actually has a son? Who'd you sleep with at that age, old man?"
Rinwoo let out a small chuckle at Taemin's audacity, but it was short-lived. Whack! Taekyun smacked the back of Taemin's head with a scowl.
"Watch your mouth, idiot," Taekyun muttered, his tone cold.
Taemin rubbed his head, glaring at Taekyun. "Ow, what was that for? I was just joking..."
But Master Hwang didn't answer him. He didn't even flinch at the teasing. His arms remained around Beom Seok for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally pulled back, his gaze swept over the others in the room, lingering on Taekyun's suspicious stare, Rinwoo's softened smile, and Taemin's curious smirk.
Master Hwang placed a hand gently on Beom Seok's shoulder.
"You must be tired, child. Go freshen up before we eat," he said softly.
Beom Seok bowed respectfully. "Yes, Master."
There was no hesitation in his steps as he walked away, disappearing into the inner corridors of the shrine. The way he moved made it clear he knew every corner, every turn, as though the shrine was etched into his very soul.
Rinwoo's eyes lingered on him until he was gone. Then, lowering his voice, he turned to Master Hwang. "Master… who actually is he?"
For a long moment, the old man did not answer. His gaze dropped to the wooden floor, and his fingers brushed the beads of his rosary as if searching for the right words. A faint sigh escaped his lips before he finally spoke.
"Twenty years ago," Master Hwang began, his voice heavy with memory, "I found him in the forest at the foot of this mountain. There's a small village there… or at least, there was. I had gone to offer prayers and blessings for the people, but instead, I saw him just a little boy, no older than five, wandering alone."
Rinwoo's brows furrowed. "Alone? No parents?"
The master shook his head slowly. "None. No family, no one to call his own. He was thin, his clothes torn, his eyes hollow with hunger. A child abandoned to the world."
The silence of the shrine deepened around them, broken only by the soft rustle of the wind against the paper doors.
"I had spent much of my own life in solitude," Master Hwang continued, his gaze distant. "And when I saw him… I could not bear to leave him there. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I took him in. Raised him here, under this very roof. For the first time, I was no longer alone."
Rinwoo swallowed, his chest tightening at the thought of little Beom Seok struggling through such loneliness.
Master Hwang's lips curved into a faint smile touched with both pride and sadness. "When he grew older, I sent him to the city. He studied, built a life for himself. I only wished for him to have a future brighter than mine. Yet no matter where he went, this shrine remained his home. And so… he returns."
Taekyun and Taemin exchanged glances as Master Hwang's voice trailed off.
Taekyun, usually calm and composed, felt a pang in his chest. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to picture little Beom Seok, only five years old, starving and wandering alone in the forest. So he was abandoned …? he thought, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Meanwhile, Taemin's reaction was more visible. His eyes softened immediately, shimmering with sympathy. "He must've been so scared…" he whispered under his breath, almost like he was talking to himself. His naturally sensitive heart ached at the idea of a child being left with nothing but hunger and the wilderness.
He turned to Master Hwang, curiosity and worry flickering in his gaze. "Then… he grew up all this time under your care? No wonder he treats this place like his own home…" His voice carried admiration, but also a hint of sadness for Beom Seok's past.
Taemin hugged Taekyun tightly from the side, his voice playful yet tinged with a hint of sincerity.
"Look, he must be so lonely," Taemin said dramatically, earning a glare from Taekyun. "And think about me! I have a father and two brothers, but do they ever spend time with me? Nope!" He pouted, resting his chin on Taekyun's shoulder.
Taekyun's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. Without a word, he pushed Taemin off, brushing his hands free as if Taemin's touch was an annoyance. His cold steps echoed as he turned to leave, refusing to look back.
Taemin's arms dropped to his sides as he pouted deeper, stomping his foot lightly. "Yah! Why are you always so cold to me?" he muttered, his cheeks puffing out in frustration. Rinwoo, still standing nearby, tilted his head with an amused grin.
"You should stop clinging to him. He's not the type to melt just because you pout," Rinwoo teased, his voice carrying a playful edge.
Taemin shot him a glare, his lips curving into a mischievous smile instead. "He's just a ungrateful and Cold outside, soft inside." He tapped his temple knowingly. "One day he'll realize how much he needs me."
From down the hall, Taekyun's footsteps echoed, heavy and sharp. He didn't look back, but his jaw tightened at Taemin's words. Something flickered in his chest annoyance, maybe, but also something he didn't want to admit.
At the Lee estate, the long dining table looked emptier than ever. Mr. Lee sat at the head of the table, silver cutlery neatly placed before him, but no one else was there except the silent row of servants standing by the walls. He clenched his jaw, the silence pressing heavier than any noise.
Finally, he asked one of the servants in a clipped tone, "Where's Daon? Why isn't he here yet for dinner?"
The servant fumbled nervously, about to answer, but before he could, Eunjae strolled in. His hair was a little messy, his eyes sharp with irritation. "Prepare two trays," he told the servants flatly, "Daon and I will eat in the room."
Mr. Lee's jaw tightened further. "Why isn't my son here for dinner?" he demanded, voice like thunder.
Eunjae froze for a moment before turning to him, annoyance flashing across his face. "How should I know?" he snapped. "Do you expect him to come down and sit here all smiles with you when his back is covered in bruises from the punishment you gave him?"
The hall fell silent. Even the servants dared not move.
Mr. Lee's fists tightened against the table. "No matter what Daon never misses dinner with me!" His voice rose, filled with both authority and fury.
Eunjae gave a short, bitter laugh, crossing his arms as he tilted his head mockingly. "Oh really? Then you'd better get used to disappointment. From now on, he'll eat only in his room until he's healed. That's final."
Mr. Lee shot up from his seat, eyes blazing, his voice booming across the hall. "Don't you dare get between me and my son, boy. You don't know your place."
But Eunjae only smirked, stepping closer with defiance written all over his face. He slowly raised his middle finger in Mr. Lee's direction, his voice low but sharp enough to cut.
"I'm already between you two. And you can't do a damn thing about it."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel. "Servants! Bring the food to Daon's bedroom," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Mr. Lee's face turned red with fury, veins pulsing in his temple as Eunjae left the hall, the sound of his footsteps fading. The servants exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether to obey Mr. Lee's authority or Eunjae's reckless command.
Mr. Lee stood frozen, fuming, his pride and control crumbling like sand in his hands.
When Eunjae walked into Daon's room, the servant following behind him with two trays of food, the first thing he saw was Daon. Sitting stiffly on the bed, his back straight despite the obvious pain, a laptop rested on his lap. His fingers typed furiously across the keyboard, his jaw clenched with determination.
Eunjae stopped in the doorway, frown deepening. Seriously? With all those wounds, he's still working?
He strode across the room without a second thought, snatching the laptop from Daon's lap in one swift motion.
"Yah!" Daon immediately reached forward, his face tightening as a bolt of pain shot through his back. He winced, his hand halfway raised. "Give it back!"
"No," Eunjae snapped, holding the laptop out of reach. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're barely able to sit without flinching and here you are....typing like a machine!"
Daon's eyes blazed, though his voice was strained. "I didn't go to the company today. I can't just sit here doing nothing. Someone has to handle the work. Taekyun isn't here who else will take care of everything if not me?"
Eunjae's jaw tightened, anger and something else flickering in his chest. "You…" He threw the laptop onto the chair nearby and glared at him. "You're unbelievable. Work, work, work like it's more important than your damn life!"
Daon pressed his lips together, his silence sharp enough to sting.
The servant behind them stood frozen, trembling with the tray still in his hands. Eunjae noticed, snatched the tray from him, and snapped, "Leave."
The servant bowed low and hurried out, shutting the door behind him.
Eunjae placed the tray on the bedside table and sat across from Daon. Without warning, he scooped up a spoonful of rice, leaned forward, and shoved it into Daon's mouth.
Daon's eyes widened, choking on surprise. He tried to chew, glaring at Eunjae with puffed cheeks.
"There," Eunjae said smugly, folding his arms. "Shut up and eat. That's an order."
Daon slowly swallowed, his glare sharp as knives. "You. "
"Don't even start," Eunjae cut him off, grabbing another spoonful. "From now on, I'm in charge. You're not touching that laptop until you're healed. And if you argue. ." he leaned closer, his smirk playful yet dangerous, "I'll shove the whole tray down your throat."
Daon wanted to argue, wanted to snap back.. but the sting of pain in his back and the oddly genuine worry in Eunjae's eyes made his chest tighten in a way he didn't understand.
For once, he stayed quiet, letting Eunjae feed him.
Eunjae held the spoon steadily, his eyes never leaving Doan's face as he raised it to his lips. Doan leaned forward, his jaw tight, refusing to look away, as if even taking the bite meant losing ground. Their glares locked, fire against fire.
"Eat properly," Eunjae muttered, almost like an order, his tone clipped.
Doan smirked faintly, though his eyes burned with challenge. "I can feed myself. I'm not a child." He opened his mouth anyway, slow and deliberate, as if mocking Eunjae's persistence. His lips brushed the spoon, lingering a second too long before pulling back.
Eunjae's hand tensed on the handle of the spoon. "Then why are you sitting here, letting me do it?" His voice was low, sharp, carrying the edge of unspoken frustration.
Doan swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, then leaned closer just slightly, his smirk widening. "Maybe I just wanted to see how long you'll play caretaker. Or… how long before you snap."
The air thickened between them, tension practically crackling. Neither backed down, neither softened two wills colliding silently while the rest of the room seemed to fade away.
In the Park estate, after dinner, Juwon went straight to his room. The door clicked shut behind him, and without bothering to turn on the lights, he threw himself face-first onto the bed. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, muffled by the pillow he immediately pulled into his arms.
He was missing Taemin so badly it ached in his chest. Every little thing his laugh, his scent, the warmth of his touch felt like it had been snatched away, leaving Juwon restless. What made it worse was the silence. Taemin hadn't called him. His replies came hours late, short, almost distant.
The thought dug deeper into him, sharp and cruel What if Taemin had found someone else?
Juwon bit down on his lip hard enough to sting, burying his face into the pillow as if squeezing it tighter could make Taemin appear. The fabric smelled faintly like him from when he stayed over, and that only made Juwon's chest burn more. He curled around it desperately, as though if he let go, Taemin would slip away completely.
His phone lay on the nightstand, screen black and silent. Juwon glanced at it every few seconds, hoping praying for a message. But nothing lit it up. Nothing.
Loneliness sat heavy in the room.
The silence in the room was a physical weight, pressing down on him until the loneliness morphed into something else entirely a raw, frantic need that coiled hot and tight in his gut. The ache in his chest wasn't just emotional anymore; it was a throbbing, physical demand that spread through his entire body, leaving him feverish and desperate.
He felt like a dog in heat, the anxiety and longing twisting into a primal urge that was getting worse by the second. The rational part of his mind, the part that knew about patience and trust, was completely drowned out by the deafening roar of his need for Taemin.
A low, broken moan tore from his throat, muffled by the pillow he still clutched. His hips gave an involuntary, stuttering jerk against the mattress, and the friction sent a jolt of electricity straight through him. It was a pathetic imitation, but it was something. It was a sensation to focus on, to chase away the terrifying silence.
He did it again, more deliberately this time, grinding himself against the soft cotton of his sheets. The pillow in his arms became a poor substitute, a shape to hold onto as his movements became less frantic and more rhythmic. He buried his face in it, inhaling deeply, trying desperately to catch a ghost of Taemin's scent on the fabric, but all he smelled was laundry detergent and his own despair.
"Taemin..." The name was a ragged prayer, a sob, a plea. He said it again, louder, as he rutted against the bed. "Taemin... please."
His free hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, his own touch feeling alien and yet the only thing that could soothe the desperate ache. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to conjure him not the cold, distant Taemin of the text messages, but his Taemin. The one whose laugh was like sunlight, whose touch could set Juwon's skin on fire.
He pictured Taemin above him, his warm weight pinning Juwon down, his breath hot against Juwon's neck. He could almost feel the ghost of those lips on his skin, the memory of those hands on his hips.
"Please... answer me... i....need you..." he babbled, his words slurring together as his movements grew more frantic, more desperate. He was humping the pillow now, holding it between his legs, chasing a release that felt miles away, the pleasure inextricably tangled with a pain so sharp it made his eyes water.
Every thrust was a call into the void. Every gasp was Taemin's name. He was falling apart, coming undone right there in the dark, with only the silent, judging eye of his black phone screen to witness it. He was a creature of pure, unadulterated want, completely consumed by the agonizing need for the mate who wasn't there.
Meanwhile, at the shrine, Taemin sat in the yard, chain-smoking ever since he arrived. The ground around him was littered with empty cigarette butts.
Rinwoo, bored and restless, finally wandered over. Standing beside him, he asked gently, "What's bothering you?"
Taemin exhaled a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the night sky. "I'm scared… scared because I've finally fallen in love with someone so badly."
Rinwoo tilted his head, smiling softly. "Then call him. If you're missing him that much, hearing his voice might help."
But Taemin shook his head quickly. "No… if I hear his voice, I'll go insane. Just one text from him was enough to make me take two cold showers this evening."
Rinwoo blinked in confusion, his innocent eyes widening. "Cold showers? What does a text have to do with that?"
Taemin froze, caught off guard, and immediately tried to change the topic.
Taemin cleared his throat before continuing, his voice low and trembling despite his effort to sound steady.
"Ever since I arrived here," he began, eyes fixed on the ground, "I realized that when I'm around Juwon… I can't think straight. I've been reckless throwing myself into him, into us without ever thinking about the consequences. I told myself I would run away if I had to. That I could fight the whole world for him if it came down to it."
He let out a shaky laugh, though it carried no joy. His fists tightened on his knees as he went on.
"But I never once thought about him. Would he be able to do that for me? To fight for me when he doesn't even know who I really am? When he doesn't even know my real name? He's already living a successful, peaceful life… and then I barged in, dragging all this with me."
Taemin's throat tightened as he finally raised his eyes, the weight of truth pressing down on him.
"Will he be able to accept it?" he whispered, more to himself than to Rinwoo. "That I'm not Kim Taemin, the boy he thinks he loves… but Lee Taemin the son of his father's greatest rival?"
The courtyard grew painfully quiet, broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the shrine's trees.
Rinwoo, who had been listening in silence, finally exhaled softly. His gaze, gentle yet piercing, lingered on Taemin's conflicted expression.