The attached bedroom was a haven of soft light and quiet, a world away from the chaos Taemin had been chasing. His head was a comforting weight on Juwon's lap, his breathing finally evened out into the deep, exhausted rhythms of sleep. Juwon watched him, his fingers gently carding through Taemin's hair, his heart aching with a protective fondness. He wondered what storm was raging in Taemin's life to leave him so utterly drained.
He sighed, a small, sad smile touching his lips as he watched the worry lines finally smooth from Taemin's sleeping face. For a moment, there was just peace.
It was shattered by the jarring, insistent ringtone of Taemin's phone.
Taemin jolted awake with a gasp, disoriented. He fumbled for the phone on the bedside table, his heart immediately starting to race again. Juwon's hand stilled in his hair.
"Yeah?" Taemin answered, his voice rough with sleep and instantly defensive.
Taekyun's cold, impatient voice came through the speaker, devoid of any greeting. "Where are you? Get back to the estate. Now. We're leaving for dinner soon."
The dinner. The fated match. The prison sentence. All of it came crashing back. Taemin's jaw clenched. "What do you want?" he bit out, the peace of moments ago completely gone.
"I want you here, dressed and presentable, in thirty minutes," Taekyun stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
A reckless, defiant idea sparked in Taemin's sleep-addled mind. He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. He walked out of the bedroom into the main office for a semblance of privacy, though Juwon could still hear every word.
"I'll come," Taemin said, his voice dropping, losing its sleepiness and gaining a sharp, negotiating edge. "On one condition."
There was a dangerous pause on the other end. "You are in no position to make conditions."
"Unblock my credit cards," Taemin demanded. "All of them. And the punishment the ledgers, being grounded it's over. wiped clean. Then I'll get ready and play the perfect son for your dinner."
He could practically hear Taekyun's teeth grinding through the phone. "You think this is a game?"
"It's my only offer, Hyung," Taemin shot back, his own temper flaring. "Take it or leave me here. I'm sure Father would love to hear you couldn't even get me to the dinner."
It was a bluff, but a good one. The silence stretched, taut and furious.
"Fine," Taekyun finally spat out, the word like poison. "But only if you promise me really promise me you will start applying yourself. No more excuses. No more running away. You will work hard."
Taemin didn't even hesitate. The freedom was too close. "I promise. I'll work hard. Now unblock them."
"They'll be unblocked. You have twenty-five minutes." The line went dead.
Taemin stood there for a second, the phone still pressed to his ear, a slow grin spreading across his face. He'd done it. He turned to see Juwon standing in the bedroom doorway, watching him with a mixture of worry and awe.
"I have to go," Taemin said.
Juwon just nodded, understanding the complicated web Taemin was trapped in. "Go. Be careful."
Taemin grabbed his jacket, the weight of his new promise a shackle he'd willingly put on, but for now, all he felt was the thrill of the unlocked cards and a temporary reprieve. The battle for the night was won, but the war was far from over.
The grand foyer of the Lee estate was a pressure cooker about to explode. Mr. Lee stood like a wrathful king, his displeasure a physical force radiating through the hall. His target was Daon.
"You will change your clothes and you will come to this dinner," Mr. Lee commanded, his voice low and venomous. "This is not a request. That… person upstairs is not a valid excuse to defy me."
Daon, usually the picture of obedience, stood his ground. His face was set in a stubborn line. "I can't, Father. Rinwoo is still unconscious. Eunjae… Eunjae will need me here. He's exhausted."
"Need you?" Mr. Lee scoffed, the sound dripping with contempt. "He is not a child! His 'need' does not supersede your duty to this family!"
The lecture continued, each word designed to belittle and command. Daon took it, his jaw tight, but he didn't yield.
It was Eunjae who broke. He'd been listening from the staircase, his worry for Rinwoo morphing into white-hot anger at the man berating his husband. He marched down the remaining steps, his exhaustion forgotten.
"Why are you pushing him?!" Eunjae's voice rang out, sharp and clear, cutting through his father-in-law's tirade. "If he doesn't want to go, then let him be! What is with all this pressure? It's just a dinner!"
Mr. Lee froze. The sheer audacity of being challenged, especially by him, left him momentarily speechless. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively quiet, which was infinitely more frightening. "You. You would do well to remember the punishment for disobeying me. For standing against me."
The memory of Daon's whipped back flashed in Eunjae's mind, and he flinched. But he didn't step back. He held his ground, his own anger shielding him.
Seeing the confrontation escalate to intolerable levels, Taekyun moved. He was the enforcer, the keeper of order. He stepped forward and grabbed Eunjae's arm, his grip like iron. "That is enough," he hissed, his voice cold. "You will behave in front of Father, or you will deeply regret it."
Before Eunjae could even retort, Daon moved.
In a flash, he was between them. He didn't shove Taekyun, but his hand came up, firmly pushing Taekyun's arm away from Eunjae, breaking his grip. Daon's movement was swift, protective, and utterly final.
Everyone stared. Daon, who had spent a lifetime yielding to Taekyun, who feared his eldest brother's disapproval more than anything, was standing against him.
His eyes were locked on Taekyun, his voice low but vibrating with a possessiveness no one had ever heard from him before. "Don't," he said, the word a clear warning. "Don't touch my husband."
The foyer fell into a stunned, electric silence. The lines had been drawn. The hierarchy had been challenged. Daon had chosen his side, publicly and irrevocably, and the foundation of the Lee family trembled with the impact.
The tense standoff in the foyer froze, all anger and defiance momentarily forgotten as the heavy main door swung open.
Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the evening sky, was Master Hwang. He looked ancient and impossibly weary, his journey etched into the deep lines of his face. He leaned heavily on his walking staff, his presence an anomaly that shocked the entire household into silence.
Mr. Lee's eyes widened in genuine astonishment. In all his years, the revered shrine keeper had never once visited the Lee estate. A visit from him was unprecedented, a portent of something monumental.
"Master Hwang!" Mr. Lee recovered quickly, bowing deeply, his voice filled with a respect that was entirely absent moments before. "This is a profound honor. Welcome. To what do we owe—"
Master Hwang ignored him completely. His sharp, old eyes scanned the room, bypassing the patriarch as if he were furniture. They landed on Taekyun.
He moved with a speed that belied his age, closing the distance between them. "Where is Rinwoo?" he demanded, his voice a gravelly whisper that carried the weight of the mountains.
Taekyun, caught off guard by the directness and the clear fury in the old man' eyes, bowed automatically. "Master. He is… he is unwell. He's resting upstairs."
Master Hwang's hand, gnarled and strong, clenched into a fist at his side. For a heart-stopping second, it looked like he would backhand Taekyun right there in the foyer for his failure. The air crackled with his suppressed rage.
Before he could move, a new voice cut through the tension.
"Master."
Eunjae stepped forward. He'd never met the legendary Master Hwang, but he saw neither a deity nor a threat; he saw an exhausted old man vibrating with worry. "You must be tired from your journey," Eunjae said, his tone respectful but firm. "Please, let a servant show you to a room to rest. We will tell you everything that has happened. I promise."
Daon, seeing Eunjae's bravery, immediately added his support, bowing slightly. "He's right, Master. Please, allow us to get you settled. We will explain."
Master Hwang's furious gaze swept from Taekyun to Eunjae and then to Daon. The fight seemed to drain out of him, replaced by a deep, weary acceptance. He gave a short, sharp nod, his jaw still clenched tight.
A servant, sensing the shift, hurried forward. "Right this way, Master Hwang," she said softly, gesturing toward the guest wing.
Without another word, Master Hwang turned and followed her, his staff tapping softly on the marble floor. His arrival had broken the fight and left a new, deeper kind of tension in its wake: the terrifying certainty that whatever was happening with Rinwoo was far more serious than any of them had imagined.
There was tension now but then the front door opened again. Taemin hurried inside, his arrival cutting through the electric silence like a knife. He barely glanced at the frozen tableau of his father, his seething eldest brother, and his defiant second brother standing protectively in front of a furious Eunjae.
"I'm here, I'm here," Taemin announced, his voice slightly breathless as he brushed past them all and took the stairs two at a time. "Just give me five minutes to change!"
His abrupt entrance acted as a circuit breaker. The moment was broken. Mr. Lee, his face still dark with thunderous rage, turned his glare from Daon and Eunjae. With a final, contemptuous sniff, he turned and strode toward the living room to wait. The message in his eyes was clear for Daon and Eunjae: This isn't over.
Taekyun, after a long, cold look at Daon a look that promised a later reckoning. followed his father without a word.
The foyer was left to Daon and Eunjae. Daon finally let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, his shoulders slumping slightly. He looked at Eunjae, whose chest was still heaving with adrenaline and anger.
"Thank you," Eunjae whispered, the fight draining out of him, leaving behind a shaky awe.
Daon just gave a tight, almost imperceptible nod. Words were beyond him. The act of defiance had left him feeling strangely hollow and exhilarated all at once.
Upstairs, Taemin changed at a record speed. Within minutes, he was descending the stairs, looking every bit the polished Lee heir in a sharp, dark suit. He didn't look at Daon or Eunjae as he passed them and joined Mr. Lee and Taekyun in the living room.
Without another word, the three of them Mr. Lee, Taekyun, and Taemin left the estate, the closing of the front door echoing like a verdict in the sudden quiet.
Inside the now-silent house, Daon and Eunjae were left standing alone in the grand foyer. The battle for the night was over, but the war within the Lee family had just declared itself openly. And Mr. Lee, sitting in the back of the limousine, was already meticulously planning how to make Eunjae and by extension, the son who dared to defend him profoundly regret their defiance.
The heavy front door clicked shut, sealing Daon and Eunjae in the vast, silent foyer. The moment the others were gone, the brave, defiant mask Daon had worn crumbled completely. The color drained from his face, and a palpable fear took hold of him. He had publicly defied his father. He had physically intervened against Taekyun. He had drawn a line in the sand, and there was no stepping back.
"He's not going to let this go," Daon whispered, his voice barely audible, trembling with a dread he couldn't suppress. "He's going to… I don't know what he's going to do." His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last financial cuts, social exile, perhaps even forcing a separation. The structured world he had always known felt like it was collapsing around him.
Eunjae saw the terror in his eyes. All his own anger melted away, replaced by a fierce, protective warmth. He reached out, placing his hands on Daon's arms, his touch firm and steadying.
"Hey," Eunjae said softly, his voice a calm anchor in Daon's storm. "Look at me." He waited until Daon's terrified eyes met his. "It's going to be alright. Whatever he does, whatever happens, we'll face it. As long as we're together, it's going to be okay."
He meant it. For the first time, he wasn't just the bratty, rebellious spouse; he was a partner, a shield.
Daon searched his eyes, looking for any hint of doubt, but found only unwavering certainty. The tight coil of anxiety in his chest loosened just a fraction. He gave a slow, shaky nod, absorbing Eunjae's strength.
Then, to Eunjae's complete and utter shock, Daon's shoulders slumped. He leaned forward, letting his full weight rest against Eunjae, and buried his face in the curve of Eunjae's neck and shoulder. It was a gesture of utter exhaustion and vulnerability Eunjae had never seen from him.
"I'm just… so tired, Eunjae-ah," Daon murmured, his voice muffled against Eunjae's skin. The admission was raw, stripped bare of all pride. "I'm so tired of this life."
Eunjae's breath hitched. His arms came up automatically, wrapping around Daon, holding him close. The mighty, stoic Daon Lee, the unshakeable Vice President, was admitting defeat not to a person, but to the immense weight of his own existence. And he was doing it in Eunjae's arms.
Eunjae held him tighter, resting his cheek against Daon's hair. "I know," he whispered into the quiet foyer. "I know. Just rest. I've got you." In the silence of the empty mansion, they stood together not a Lee heir and his troublesome husband, but two exhausted men finding an unexpected sanctuary in each other, bracing for the storm they knew was coming.
The atmosphere in the exclusive VIP dining room was one of polished, high-stakes formality. Mr. Lee led the way, his earlier fury masked behind a facade of genial authority. Taekyun followed, a silent, imposing shadow. Taemin trailed behind them, his expression one of profound boredom and resentment, his mind a million miles away with Juwon.
They were greeted by Mr. Jeon, a powerful, silver-haired businessman with a firm handshake and a sharp eye. "Lee-ssi! A pleasure. And these must be your sons."
"Indeed," Mr. Lee said with a practiced smile. "Taekyun, my eldest. And this is Taemin."
Taemin offered a stiff, minimal bow. "An honour to meet you, Sir," he mumbled, his tone making it clear the honour was entirely fabricated. He didn't even glance around for his so-called fated match; the whole affair was a torture he was enduring under duress.
The pleasantries were interrupted by the sound of quick, light footsteps. A young woman, dressed in an elegant but stylishly modern dress, came rushing into the room from a side door, her face lit up with excitement.
"Taemin-ah!" she exclaimed, her voice bright and familiar in a way that made Taemin's head snap up.
Before he could process who she was or how she knew his name, she threw her arms around him in a enthusiastic hug.
Mr. Lee and Taekyun froze mid-sentence, their eyes wide with shock at the breach of formal protocol.
Mr. Jeon, however, just chuckled, shaking his head with fond exasperation. "Nayeon-ah, must you always make an entrance?"
The woman—Nayeon—pulled back from the hug, looking up at Taemin's completely stunned, bewildered face. She pouted, a very pretty, deliberate pout. "Yah! Lee Taemin! How could you not recognize me? It's me! Your Reo!"
Reo.
The name was a key turning in a lock deep in Taemin's memory. His eyes widened in utter, unadulterated shock. His jaw went slack.
"R-Reo?!" he stammered, the word coming out as a disbelieving gasp. He took a step back, looking her up and down. The short, spiky hair, the baggy basketball jerseys, the scraped knees and loud, boisterous laugh of his high school best friend… it all crashed into the vision of the beautiful, sophisticated woman in front of him. "Bro?! Is that you?!"
The entire table, including waitstaff, was now staring.
Nayeon's pout deepened, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Yes, you idiot!"
Still reeling, Taemin blurted out the only thing his shocked brain could formulate, "Bro... why did you change your gender?!"
The question hung in the air for a split second before Mr. Jeon burst into loud, unrestrained laughter, slapping his knee. "She didn't change her gender, you foolish boy!" he managed between laughs. "She was just a tomboy back in high school! A very, very convincing one, apparently!"
Nayeon was laughing now too, swatting Taemin's arm. "I grew my hair out! And I stopped stealing my brother's clothes! Is it really that hard to believe?"
Taemin could only stare, his world tilting on its axis. His fated match… was his old best friend? The one he'd built tree forts with and skipped class with? The one he'd told all his secrets to? The chaos of the day, the hunt for Jake, the fear for Rinwoo—it all momentarily receded, replaced by pure, unfiltered astonishment. This was not the enemy he had been expecting. This was Reo.
Mr. Lee's smile remained firmly plastered on his face, a masterpiece of diplomatic politeness, but his eyes were frosty. Nayeon's impulsive hug and casual demeanor were not what he considered appropriate for a first meeting between fated matches from prestigious families. He preferred a more subdued, controllable dynamic. Nevertheless, he gestured for everyone to take their seats at the lavishly set table.
As they settled into their chairs, the atmosphere was a study in contrasts. Mr. Jeon looked amused and fondly at his daughter. Taekyun observed everything with his usual analytical detachment, filing away the unexpected development. Mr. Lee sipped his water, his mind already recalculating the advantages and disadvantages of this match.
Nayeon, for her part, could barely contain her joy. Throughout high school, she'd been 'Reo,' Taemin's loud, tomboyish best friend and his unofficial wingman. And she'd carried a secret, aching crush on him the entire time. Her transformation after graduation—growing out her hair, embracing a more feminine style—hadn't been just about growing up; it had been a silent, hopeful prayer that he might one day see her as more than just a friend. When her father had told her her fated match was Lee Taemin, she felt like the universe had finally answered her.
She kept glancing at him from under her lashes, a soft, hopeful smile playing on her lips. He looked so handsome in his suit, so different yet so familiar. Her heart fluttered every time she looked his way.
Taemin, however, was miles away. He picked at the intricate table setting, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The initial shock of seeing Reo had given way to a tidal wave of complication. This was Reo. His friend. The one person from his past who knew about his dreams of freedom, his rebellious streak.
He'd told Reo everything.
And now she was his fated match.
His mind wasn't on her hopeful glances; it was racing through a nightmare scenario. How could he sit through this dinner knowing his future was being decided with someone who knew his deepest secret? How could he pretend to consider a future with her when his heart belonged entirely to someone else? Each glance she sent his way felt like an accusation, a reminder of the impossible situation he was trapped in. The dinner wasn't a celebration; it was the setting of a beautifully decorated trap, and the person he'd once trusted had unknowingly become the bait.
The only light in Rinwoo's room came from a single bedside lamp, casting long, dancing shadows. Eunjae was dozing fitfully in the chair beside the bed when a sharp, distressed sound jolted him awake.
Rinwoo was thrashing again, his head moving fitfully on the pillow. A fine sheen of sweat coated his pale skin, and his breathing was a ragged, painful sound. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists, gripping the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.
"Rinwoo? Rinwoo, shhh, it's okay," Eunjae murmured, his own sleepiness vanishing. He grabbed a cool cloth and gently dabbed at Rinwoo's forehead, his worry spiking. This was worse than before.
"Daon!" Eunjae called out, his voice sharp with alarm. "Daon, come quick!"
From down the hall, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed, and Daon appeared in the doorway moments later, his hair disheveled, his face etched with concern. "What is it? What's happened?"
Before Eunjae could explain, Rinwoo's eyes flew open.
He didn't wake slowly. He shot upright in bed with a gasping, ragged inhale, as if breaking through the surface of deep water. His chest heaved, his eyes were wide and wild, darting around the unfamiliar shadows of the room, still trapped in the remnants of his nightmare.
Eunjae jumped, startled by the sudden movement. "Rinwoo! You're awake! It's okay, you're safe—"
Daon moved closer to the bed, his presence a steadying force. "Rinwoo? Can you hear me?"
But Rinwoo wasn't looking at them. His panicked gaze swept the room, searching for something or someone else. His voice, when it came, was hoarse and strained, laced with a fear and urgency that chilled them both.
"Where's Taekyun?"
The question hung in the air, stark and utterly unexpected. After everything the collapse, the fever, the nightmare his first conscious thought was for the husband who treated him like a ghost.
Eunjae froze, completely thrown. He exchanged a quick, bewildered glance with Daon.
Recovering first, Eunjae reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, his hands slightly unsteady. "H-Here, drink some water first. Just… just calm down," he stammered, avoiding the question entirely. He held the glass out, a flimsy barrier against the unsettling demand. Rinwoo's desperate, searching eyes remained fixed on the doorway, waiting for an answer that wouldn't come.
Eunjae kept the glass of water extended, a nervous smile plastered on his face. "Rinwoo, please, just drink this. You need to—"
"Where is he?" Rinwoo interrupted, his voice gaining a shred of strength, edged with a desperation that was painful to hear. His hands, instead of taking the glass, came up to weakly grip Eunjae's wrist. "Where's Taekyun? I need to see him. I need to talk to him."
His eyes, still glassy with fever and the remnants of his nightmare, were pleading, utterly focused on this single, frantic need.
Eunjae floundered, looking helplessly at Daon, who stood by with a deep frown. "He... he's not here right now, Rinwoo-yah. He had to go out. A business dinner. Remember? He'll be back later." It was a weak excuse, and they all knew it.
But Rinwoo shook his head, a frantic, jerky motion. "No. No, I need to see him now." The nightmare Yuna's tear-streaked face, the photographs, the accusations of blackmail was still clawing at the edges of his mind. He felt like the truth was a burning coal in his chest, and only confessing it to Taekyun, only hearing a denial from his lips, could extinguish the fire. "Please. It's important. It's about... it's about last night."
Eunjae and Daon shared another alarmed look. This wasn't just disorientation; this was a specific, driven urgency. Something had happened, something tied directly to Taekyun.
"Rinwoo, whatever it is, it can wait until he gets back," Daon said, his voice firm but gentle, trying to use logic to soothe him. "You need to rest. You're not well."
But Rinwoo wouldn't be swayed. The gentle, compliant man was gone, replaced by someone gripped by a terrified compulsion. He tried to push the covers back, his movements weak and uncoordinated. "I have to find him. I have to ask him..."
Eunjae had to gently but firmly press him back against the pillows. "You can't get up! You'll hurt yourself!" he insisted, his own heart aching with confusion and worry. The scene was heartbreaking and deeply unsettling: Rinwoo, who always accepted his lot with quiet sadness, was now fighting with his last bit of strength for the one person who showed him nothing but coldness. The imbalance of it was a tragedy playing out in real time, and Eunjae and Daon were powerless to stop it.
Daon watched the heartbreaking scene for another moment Rinwoo's weak struggles, his desperate, repeated pleas for Taekyun, Eunjae's frantic attempts to soothe him and knew there was only one thing to do. With a sigh of resignation, he pulled out his phone and dialed Taekyun's number.
At the restaurant, the dinner was progressing with stiff formality. Mr. Lee and Mr. Jeon were discussing merger possibilities, Taemin was pushing food around his plate while avoiding Nayeon's hopeful gaze, and Taekyun was silently calculating the business advantages of the union.
His phone vibrated in his inner suit pocket. Annoyed at the interruption, he excused himself with a curt nod and stepped away from the table, moving towards the restrooms for privacy.
"This had better be important," he answered, his voice a low growl.
"Hyung, it's Rinwoo," Daon's voice came through, strained and urgent. "He's awake. But he's… he's not right. He's hysterical. He's begging for you. He won't calm down. He says he needs to talk to you about last night. It's… it's bad."
Taekyun's annoyance vanished, replaced by a cold jolt. The image of Rinwoo's pale, unconscious form flashed in his mind, followed by the memory of his own locket glowing a warning of a severe emotional violation. Last night. The words echoed ominously.
"I'm on my way," Taekyun said, his voice clipped and decisive. He didn't ask for details. He didn't hesitate.
He ended the call and didn't bother returning to the table. He simply turned and strode straight through the main dining room, ignoring the curious looks, and pushed through the doors into the cool night air, leaving the important dinner and his bewildered family behind without a second glance.
Back in the bedroom, the situation was deteriorating. Rinwoo's strength was fading, but his desperation wasn't. Tears of frustration welled in his eyes.
"Please, Eunjae-ah," he begged, his voice a broken whisper. "Just let me see him. I have to ask him… I have to know if it's true…" The photographs felt like they were burning a hole through his soul.
Eunjae's own eyes were wet. "He's coming, Rinwoo-yah, he's coming. Just breathe, please. Daon called him. He's on his way." He held Rinwoo's trembling hands, trying to anchor him, his heart breaking for his friend's profound, inexplicable distress. All they could do was wait for the man who was the source of both his pain and his desperate salvation.
Back at the restaurant, the absence of Taekyun created a subtle but noticeable void at the table. Mr. Lee's jaw was tight, his displeasure at his eldest son's abrupt departure barely contained beneath a veneer of civility. Mr. Jeon, perceptive, wisely steered the conversation back to neutral business topics.
But at the other end of the table, a different, quieter drama was unfolding.
Nayeon, having spent years dreaming of this moment, was determined to pull Taemin out of whatever dark cloud he was under. She'd changed her entire life, her very appearance, for a chance to be seen by him not as a buddy, but as a woman. And he was ignoring her.
"So, Taemin-ah," she began, leaning forward slightly, making sure the soft light caught the delicate necklace at her throat. "Do you still hate math as much as you did in high school? I remember you used to try to copy my homework right before class."
She offered a light, tinkling laugh, hoping to spark a shared memory.
Taemin grunted, not looking up from where he was meticulously dissecting a piece of asparagus with his fork. "Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Still hate it."
The response was a dead end. Nayeon's smile didn't falter, but a flicker of frustration crossed her eyes.
She tried again. "I heard you're into motorcycles now. That's so cool. You used to be scared of anything with two wheels."
This got a slightly bigger reaction. Taemin's head lifted a fraction. "People change," he said, his tone flat. Then his eyes went distant again, undoubtedly thinking of Juwon, and the life he couldn't have.
Nayeon followed his gaze, her own smile finally beginning to strain. She reached for her wine glass, taking a slow sip to hide her disappointment. She was putting on her best performance, using every trick she knew, and he was looking straight through her as if she were still just Reo in a baggy hoodie. The grand dinner she had fantasized about was turning into a special kind of torture, each of her attempts to connect met with a wall of indifference. The hope in her heart began to curdle into a quiet, simmering hurt.
Mr. Jeon, ever the observant host, watched the painful dynamic between his daughter and the disinterested Lee heir. With a genial smile that masked his slight concern, he clapped his hands together softly. "You know, these business talks are so dry for the young ones. Taemin, why don't you take Nayeon out to the terrace? Get some fresh air. Chat amongst yourselves."
It was a clear dismissal and an order wrapped in politeness. Taemin, seeing an escape from the stifling table, nodded curtly and stood up. Nayeon followed, a renewed flicker of hope in her eyes.
They stepped out onto the spacious, elegantly lit terrace overlooking the city lights. The moment they were alone, the formal air evaporated. Taemin immediately reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes with a relieved sigh. He tapped one out and put it to his lips, lighting it with a quick flick of his lighter. He took a long, deep drag, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he exhaled a plume of smoke into the cool night air.
Nayeon watched him, the familiar gesture so like the boy she remembered. She saw her opening. This was their language.
She stepped closer, into his personal space, and looked up at him with a playful smirk that felt both new and comfortingly old. "Hey," she said, her voice dropping into a more casual, intimate tone. "Didn't your Father teach you to share?"
She pointed at the cigarette in his hand.
Taemin looked down at her, really looked at her for the first time all evening. The elegant dress, the styled hair it was all so foreign. But the bold, direct glint in her eyes, the way she asked… that was pure Reo. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. It was the first genuine expression she'd seen from him all night.
Without a word, he held the cigarette out to her.
Nayeon took it, her fingers brushing against his. She brought it to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate drag. She held the smoke for a second before exhaling, watching him through the haze. It was a test, a callback to a hundred shared secrets behind the school gym. She was trying to bridge the gap between the man he was now and the boy she'd loved then, one shared vice at a time.
The door to Rinwoo's room burst open and Taekyun stood there, slightly breathless from his rushed return. The scene before him made him freeze.
Rinwoo was upright, but he was swaying, his body trembling violently with the effort of simply standing. His face was deathly pale, beaded with a fresh sweat, his eyes wide and glazed with fever and a desperate, pleading hope. Daon stood to the side, his expression grim. Eunjae was positioned protectively near the bed, his arms crossed, a clear, defiant barrier between Taekyun and Rinwoo.
But Rinwoo didn't need protecting. Not from Taekyun. Not in this moment.
With a strength born of pure desperation, Rinwoo pushed away from the bed. His legs buckled, but he caught himself on the bedside table, his knuckles white. He took one shaky step, then another, until he was standing directly in front of a stunned Taekyun.
The room was utterly silent, the air thick with tension.
Rinwoo's voice, when it came, was a raw, broken whisper, but it echoed in the stillness.
"You're not dating Yuna… right?"
The question hung in the air, absurd and devastating. Eunjae's frown deepened in confusion. Daon's eyes widened.
Before anyone could react, Rinwoo took another unsteady step forward. His legs gave way, and he would have crumpled if he hadn't thrown his hands out, pressing them flat against Taekyun's chest for support. The physical contact was electric, shocking in its rarity and its sheer vulnerability.
Rinwoo looked up, his eyes searching Taekyun's, filled with a hope so fragile it was painful to see.
"I don't care if you love me or not," he whispered, each word a struggle. "I don't care if you treat me like a ghost. But you are not dating Yuna… right?"
Taekyun was paralyzed. He could only stare down at the man clinging to him, this husband he ignored, who was now looking at him as if he held the absolute truth of the universe in his hands. The faith, the desperate need for a denial, was utterly staggering.
Seeing Taekyun's speechlessness, a fresh wave of panic seized Rinwoo. His trembling intensified. With a fumbling, frantic motion, he reached inside the inner pocket of the jacket he still wore the same one from his fateful outing and pulled out the damning photographs.
He thrust them against Taekyun's chest, the glossy images crinkling in his shaking hand.
"They're all fake… right?" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please… tell me they're fake."
Eunjae, from his vantage point, finally saw the photos. His eyes landed on the clear image of Taekyun with another woman, on his new haircut, on the undeniable intimacy of the shots. A sharp, horrified gasp escaped him.
Daon, seeing the pictures over Taekyun's shoulder, felt his own breath catch. His mind reeled. This was the shock that had broken Rinwoo.
The evidence was there, held in a trembling hand, presented to the one man who could shatter a heart with a single word. The room waited, suspended in a moment of devastating truth, for Taekyun's answer.
Rinwoo's knees finally gave out completely. The photographs fluttered from his numb fingers, scattering across the floor like fallen leaves. Eunjae lunged forward, catching him just before he hit the ground, easing him down into a kneeling position, supporting his weight.
The room was dead silent, the only sound Rinwoo's ragged, hitching breaths. Then, a sound tore from his throat that made the hair on everyone's arms stand on end.
It was a laugh. A broken, hollow, utterly despairing sound that held no humor whatsoever. It was the sound of a heart breaking in real-time.
He looked up at Taekyun, who stood frozen like a statue, his face a mask of stunned shock. Tears streamed down Rinwoo's cheeks, but the terrible, mocking laughter continued.
"How…" Rinwoo choked out between the awful, gasping laughs. "How… whyyyy?" His voice cracked, rising in pitch, raw with a pain so deep it was physical. "Why would you do that?!"
He wasn't asking about the infidelity anymore. He was asking about the cruelty.
"Even if you wanted to use someone…" he cried, his voice becoming a wounded scream that echoed in the lavish room, "Why not me?! I was right here! I'm your husband! You could have used me! Why did you have to go to her?!"
The logic was shattered, born from absolute devastation. He wasn't angry about the affair; he was destroyed that Taekyun hadn't even deemed him worthy of being used. He had been so invisible, so insignificant, that Taekyun had sought out someone else to fulfill a need Rinwoo would have gladly pathetically met, just for a scrap of attention.
"WHYYYY?!" The word was a raw, primal scream of betrayal and utter worthlessness, directed at the man who had never once seen him as a person.
Eunjae held him tighter, his own tears falling now, completely helpless in the face of such profound anguish. Daon could only stare, his own worldview shaken. And Taekyun… Taekyun finally found himself unable to look away from the devastating consequences of his actions, presented in the broken form of the man he had ignored for two years. The cold, controlled fortress around his heart didn't just crack; it was blown apart by the force of Rinwoo's shattered love.
The air in the room didn't just grow cold; it became charged, thick with a malevolent energy that made it hard to breathe. Rinwoo's broken laughter echoed off the walls, a dissonant, horrifying soundtrack to the unfolding chaos.
He was kneeling on the floor, supported by Eunjae, but he seemed to look right through everyone, his eyes seeing only the depth of his own betrayal. "All this time... I was here... waiting for a single glance... and you... you gave everything to her..." The words weren't screamed anymore; they were spat out, bitter and poisonous, each one laced with a lifetime of neglected love curdling into pure, undiluted hatred.
When he spoke again, his voice was a flat, broken monotone, each word dripping with a bitterness that seemed to poison the air.
"All those times you came home late… smelling of her perfume," he murmured, not looking at anyone. "I told myself it was just business. I made excuses for you." A bitter, twisted smile touched his bloodless lips. "How stupid I was."
His head lolled back against Eunjae's shoulder, and he finally looked at Taekyun, but his gaze was miles away, seeing only the ghosts of his own delusions.
"You must have laughed, right?" he whispered, his voice gaining a manic edge. "Coming home to your stupid, loyal dog. Wagging its tail, so happy to see you, never knowing its master had just been petting another… better… dog."
Eunjae flinched, holding him tighter. "Rinwoo, stop, don't say that—"
But Rinwoo wasn't hearing him. He was lost in his own personal hell.
"The food I made… you must have thrown it all away. Of course you did. Why would you eat something made by my dirty hands when you could have a feast with her?" His voice began to rise again, becoming shrill. "The massages… you probably hated my touch. It must have made your skin crawl. You were just… tolerating it. Waiting to go back to her."
He was spiraling, each new thought more destructive than the last, building a narrative of complete and utter rejection.
"That's why you kept me hidden from the world, isn't it?" he cried, his body starting to tremble violently again. "I was your shame. Your dirty little secret. A mistake you had to keep in the basement so your real life… your life with her… wouldn't be contaminated!"
The terrible, hollow laughter suddenly hitched. Rinwoo's body convulsed once, a violent shudder that racked his entire frame.
At that exact moment, a sharp CRACK split the air.
It came from Taekyun's chest. The protective locket the one Master Hwang had given him, the one that had glowed and shielded him shattered. The pieces weren't just broken; they were vaporized into a fine, black dust that seeped through his shirt. A searing, white-hot pain exploded in Taekyun's chest, as if the curse had bypassed all defenses and plunged a white-hot blade directly into his heart. He gasped, stumbling backward, clutching at his sternum.
And then the room itself rebelled.
It started with the fine silverware on the tray Daon had brought up. The knives and forks trembled, then lifted into the air, their points aimed menacingly around the room. The framed pictures on the walls rattled violently. A decorative vase on a side table levitated, hovering precariously. Every sharp object in the vicinity scissors from a sewing kit, a letter opener on a desk rose, suspended in the air, humming with a deadly intent. They weren't just floating; they were orienting themselves, pointing like accusing fingers, vibrating with the intensity of Rinwoo's shattered heart and the curse's unfettered rage.
The curse wasn't just stirring; it was unleashed, and it was taking direct, physical aim at the source of its violation. The gentle, forgiving Rinwoo was gone. In his place was a conduit of pure, magical wrath, and his heartbreak was the weapon. The very foundations of the Lee estate seemed to groan in response, the house itself reacting to the catastrophic imbalance its heir had created.