The scene descended into pure, surreal chaos. Rinwoo was lost to the world, his body curled on the floor, his forehead pressed against the cold wood as his shoulders shook with silent, hysterical tremors. Incoherent, broken words spilled from his lips, a whispered litany of betrayal and pain. He was unreachable, a vessel overflowing with a anguish so potent it was warping reality itself.
"Rinwoo! Rinwoo, look at me!" Eunjae pleaded, trying to shake him, but Rinwoo was insensate, trapped in his own private hell. Eunjae's eyes darted around the room in terror as the levitating knives, scissors, and shards of glass vibrated with a high-pitched, deadly hum. They were no longer just hovering; they were taking aim.
"Eunjae, move! Get away from him!" Daon yelled, his own fear evident as he tried to pull his husband back from the epicenter of the storm. But Eunjae, in his panic for Rinwoo, refused to let go.
Taekyun, clutching his searing chest, saw what the others did not. The sharp objects weren't aiming randomly. Their trembling points were focused, zeroing in on the source of the emotional cataclysm: Rinwoo. And on himself, the cause of it.
There was no time to think. Instinct, raw and primal, overrode a lifetime of cold calculation. He lunged forward, throwing his body over Rinwoo's curled form, shielding him completely with his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of a dozen piercing wounds, a punishment he knew he deserved.
Daon, seeing Taekyun's move, used the distraction to finally yank a stunned Eunjae backward, pulling him clear.
At that exact moment, the deadly cloud of projectiles shot forward with a collective WHOOSH.
But the impact never came.
The door to the room burst open with a force that shook the walls. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the hall light, was Master Hwang. He looked ancient and impossibly powerful, his robes seeming to flutter in a wind that didn't exist. In his hand, a talisman glowed with a fierce, golden light.
With a guttural chant, he thrust the talisman forward. A wave of pure, calming energy erupted from it, washing over the room like a tide.
The lethal hail of sharp objects froze mid-air, mere inches from piercing Taekyun's back. Then, as if their strings had been cut, they all clattered harmlessly to the floor at once, the deadly hum replaced by a ringing silence.
The oppressive, malevolent energy vanished, leaving behind only the heavy scent of ozone and the sound of Rinwoo's ragged, broken sobs from beneath Taekyun's protective embrace. Master Hwang stood panting slightly in the doorway, his fierce eyes taking in the devastating scene he had just barely managed to contain.
The silence after the talisman's power was heavy, broken only by Rinwoo's ragged, muffled sobs and the frantic beating of hearts. Taekyun, still reeling from the near-death experience and the searing pain in his chest where the locket had been, slowly pushed himself up. His eyes, wide with shock and dawning horror, found Master Hwang in the doorway.
"Master Hwang... you—you saved us..." Taekyun began, his voice hoarse, a mixture of gratitude and utter confusion. He took a step toward the ancient man.
He never saw the blow coming.
SMACK.
The sound of the slap was like a gunshot in the tense room. Master Hwang's aged hand connected with Taekyun's cheek with a force that snapped his head to the side. Eunjae and Daon jolted, their eyes widening in utter disbelief.
Taekyun staggered back, his hand flying to his stinging cheek. He looked at Master Hwang, not with anger, but with pure, uncomprehending shock. The revered shrine keeper, a man of endless patience, had never shown even a flicker of violence.
Master Hwang was trembling, but not from weakness. It was a rage so profound it seemed to vibrate through his entire being. His wise eyes, usually so calm, blazed with a fury that made Taekyun feel small and foolish.
"YOU FOOLISH, SELFISH BOY!" Master Hwang's voice wasn't a yell; it was a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. "Look what you have done! Look at him!" He thrust a bony finger toward where Rinwoo was still curled on the floor, lost in his agony.
"You broke him! You broke him so completely that you broke the curse itself! You think it was trying to kill you?!" He laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "It was trying to kill him! Your pain, your defiance, your betrayal—it became a weapon aimed at your own shield! The curse sought to eliminate the source of its own rage—Rinwoo's heartbreak—so it could then come for you unimpeded! You almost got him killed today! You almost got your only protection murdered because of your blind arrogance!"
The revelation was a physical blow. Taekyun's knees almost buckled. The floating objects, the deadly aim... it wasn't punishment for him. It was the curse trying to destroy the very thing that was suffering because of him, to clear the path to its true target.
Eunjae, hearing this, let out a choked sob and rushed back to Rinwoo, gathering his trembling form, trying to shield him from the verbal onslaught as well.
Master Hwang wasn't finished. His voice cracked with a decades-old regret. "I should have taken him away from you! I should have taken him the day after your marriage when you struck him across the face for a simple mistake, for a rule he did not yet know! I saw the mark on his cheek, and I did nothing! I thought it was his fate to bear! I was a coward! I left my own grandson in the hands of a cold-hearted boy who would grind his spirit into dust!"
The final word hung in the air. Grandson.
But the shock of that revelation was swallowed by the sheer force of Master Hwang's condemnation. He stood before them, not just as a spiritual guide, but as a furious grandfather witnessing the devastating results of his own inaction, unleashing a lifetime of guilt and rage upon the man responsible. The room held its breath, the weight of years of neglect and pain finally crashing down.
The dinner at The Golden Pheasant was winding down. Mr. Lee was finishing a brandy, discussing final details with a satisfied Mr. Jeon. Nayeon was practically glowing, chatting animatedly with a slightly less tense Taemin. For a moment, it almost felt like a successful evening.
Taemin's phone buzzed in his pocket. He excused himself with a mumbled apology and stepped away from the table, answering it.
"Mingyu? Please tell me you have something."
Mingyu's voice was uncharacteristically grim, devoid of its usual playful flair. "I found your Jake. Or, more accurately, my guys did. He's not very talkative. Had to… persuade him a little."
A cold thrill shot through Taemin. "Where?"
"Abandoned auto workshop on the industrial east side. I'll send you the pin. Hurry up. I don't know how long I can keep this… civil."
The line went dead. A second later, a location pin appeared on Taemin's screen.
Without a second thought, Taemin made a split-second decision. His father, his fated match, the carefully orchestrated dinner—it all vanished from his mind. There was only the pin on the map and the face of the man who had hurt Rinwoo.
He turned back to the table. "Father, Mr. Jeon, Nayeon… something urgent has come up. A family emergency. I have to go immediately. My deepest apologies."
Mr. Lee's face began to darken with thunderous disapproval. "Taemin! We are not finished—"
But Taemin was already walking away, not running, but moving with a determined, swift purpose that brooked no argument. He didn't look back. He pushed through the restaurant doors, hailed the first taxi he saw, and rattled off the address Mingyu had sent.
The taxi sped through the city, moving from zones of glittering lights into areas of darkened warehouses and deserted streets. Taemin's heart hammered against his ribs, a mix of fury and fear. He didn't know what he would find.
The taxi stopped in front of a dilapidated building with broken windows. Taemin threw a wad of cash at the driver and jumped out.
He pushed open a creaking metal door. The scene inside was illuminated by the harsh glow of a single work lamp.
Jake was tied to a metal chair in the center of the grease-stained concrete floor. His face was bruised and bloody, one eye swollen shut. Mingyu stood over him, calmly wiping his knuckles with a handkerchief. A few of Mingyu's… associates… lurked in the shadows.
Mingyu looked up as Taemin entered. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"He's all yours, Taemin-ah. He's finally ready to talk."
The air in the abandoned workshop was thick with the smell of grease, dust, and the coppery tang of blood. Taemin stood over Jake, his entire body vibrating with a rage so pure it was blinding.
"Why?" Taemin's voice was a low, dangerous growl, completely unlike his usual playful tone. "Why did you take Rinwoo? What did you say to him?"
Hearing Rinwoo's name, Jake, despite his beaten state, let out a wet, choked laugh. It was a grating, mocking sound that echoed in the empty space. He couldn't stop, laughing through his split lip, the sound becoming more unhinged.
The laughter scraped against Taemin's last nerve. "ANSWER ME!" he roared.
Jake finally managed to catch his breath, his one good eye gleaming with malicious amusement. "We didn't say much," he slurred, blood trickling from his mouth. "We just... revealed the secret. The secret of his beloved, perfect husband." He let out another hacking laugh. "The poor, stupid thing looked so shocked. His whole world just... ended. Right in front of me. It was priceless." He tilted his head, a grotesque parody of concern. "So... is he okay? Tell me. Did he die from the shock?"
That was it. The image of Rinwoo's pale, unconscious form, the doctor's words about shock and neglect, the sheer cruelty in Jake's voice—it all snapped inside Taemin.
With a raw yell of fury, Taemin's eyes landed on a heavy, rusted metal pipe leaning against a workbench. He lunged for it, his movements fueled by pure instinct.
"TAEMIN, DON'T—!" Mingyu started, but it was too late.
Taemin swung the pipe with all his strength. It connected with the side of Jake's head with a sickening, definitive THWACK.
Jake's laughter cut off instantly. His head snapped to the side, and his body went completely limp in the chair, unconscious before he could even register the impact.
Silence descended, broken only by Taemin's ragged panting. He dropped the pipe, the clatter loud in the sudden quiet. He stared at Jake's motionless form, his own hands trembling, not with fear, but with the aftershock of his own violence.
Mingyu stared for a moment, his eyes wide. Then, a slow, impressed smirk spread across his face. He let out a low whistle.
"Well, damn, Taemin-ah," Mingyu purred, his voice dripping with a new, dark appreciation. He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over Taemin's heaving chest and furious expression. "I've never seen you like this. So wild. So... vicious." He reached out, tracing a finger down Taemin's arm, making him flinch. "It's making me hot. Forget this trash. Let's get out of here. I think you and I need to have a very, very long night to work all this... aggression out."
Mingyu's offer hung in the air, a dangerous temptation amidst the violence. But Taemin's mind was already elsewhere, back at the estate, with a broken Rinwoo and a secret that had nearly killed him. The thrill of the violence was already fading, replaced by a cold, sinking dread. He had his answer, but it had only led to more darkness.
At Lee estate..
The word hung in the air, sucking all the oxygen from the room. Grandson.
Eunjae's head snapped up from where he was cradling Rinwoo, his eyes wide with utter shock. Daon stood frozen, his analytical mind trying and failing to process the monumental revelation. Taekyun, still reeling from the slap and the searing truth of Master Hwang's words, could only stare at the ancient man, his mouth agape. Rinwoo? The quiet, overlooked husband he'd dismissed for two years… was Master Hwang's grandson? The spiritual guardian' own flesh and blood?
The implications were staggering, rewriting the entire history of their marriage in a single, devastating sentence.
But the moment for questions was brutally stolen.
A weak, shuddering gasp came from the floor. All eyes flew to Rinwoo. The last of his strength, the adrenaline that had fueled his heartbroken outburst and the curse's violent manifestation, was utterly spent. His eyes, which had been wide with a pain too deep for tears, fluttered closed. His body, which had been trembling with unbearable tension, went completely limp in Eunjae's arms.
"Rinwoo?!" Eunjae cried out, his voice shrill with panic. He shook him gently, but there was no response. Rinwoo was a dead weight, unconscious, his face as pale as the moon against Eunjae's jacket.
The shock of the revelation was instantly eclipsed by a more immediate, terrifying crisis.
Master Hwang moved with a speed that belied his years, rushing to his grandson's side. All his anger was gone, replaced by a grandfather's sheer terror. He pressed his fingers to Rinwoo's neck, checking for a pulse, his face a mask of grim concentration.
The room, which had been filled with yelling, magic, and the clatter of falling metal, was now dead silent, heavy with a dread far worse than before. The truth was out, but it had come at the worst possible moment. The secret was revealed, but the person at the heart of it was lost to them, his life hanging in the balance. The battle was no longer about past mistakes; it was a desperate fight for Rinwoo's very survival.
Taemin slumped onto a rickety wooden chair, the adrenaline that had fueled his violent outburst draining away, leaving him cold and hollow. He dropped his head into his hands, the image of the metal pipe connecting with Jake's skull replaying on a loop behind his eyelids. He'd been so sure. So enraged. He thought he was avenging Rinwoo, protecting him from some external monster.
But the monster was in their house.
"It was Taekyun," he mumbled into his palms, the realization a sickening punch to the gut. "All this time… it was my own brother." The betrayal was a layered thing—betrayal of Rinwoo, yes, but also a betrayal of the family unit Taemin, despite his rebellions, somehow still believed in.
Mingyu, leaning against a grimy workbench, lit a cigarette, the flame illuminating his smirk. "Yeah," he exhaled a plume of smoke. "That's what Yuna, that bitch, finally coughed up after a little… persuasion. Said Jake was just the driver, the messenger boy. The whole 'revealing the secret' show was her idea. Jake had nothing to do with the content. Just the delivery."
He took another drag, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "You shouldn't have gone that far, Taemin-ah. A little intimidation was the plan. Not attempted murder." He gestured with his cigarette toward the small pool of blood on the floor where Jake's head had lolled. "Luckily, the ambulance I called anonymously got here fast. They took him to the hospital. Let's just hope he doesn't die."
Mingyu's voice dropped to a casual, chilling tone. "Or you'll go straight to jail. And even my charm can't get you out of that."
The weight of his actions crashed down on Taemin. He wasn't a hero. He was a fool who had let his temper spiral out of control, who had almost killed a man over a crime he didn't even commit. The guilt over Rinwoo was now compounded by the terrifying reality of what he had just done. He sat in the filthy workshop, the sounds of the city a distant hum, trapped between the monstrous actions of his brother and the potentially life-ending consequence of his own. The hunt for the truth had led him not to justice, but to the edge of a prison cell.
Mr. Lee's return to the estate was met with an unnerving silence. The grand foyer was empty, but a palpable tension led him upstairs. He found a cluster of servants huddled anxiously outside Rinwoo's door, their whispers dying the moment they saw him.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Lee's voice boomed, his frown deepening. "Why is everyone gathered here? Explain yourselves!"
The servants bowed their heads, too terrified to speak. The door to the room was slightly ajar, and from within, Mr. Lee could see Master Hwang's back, his posture rigid with a fury that seemed to vibrate the air.
It was Master Hwang who answered, his voice cold and final, without even turning to face the patriarch. "Prepare a car. The moment my grandson is stable enough to be moved, I am taking him back to the mountains. Away from this cursed house."
Mr. Lee's eyes widened in shock. "What? What absurdity is this? You cannot just take him! Explain yourself at once!"
Finally, Master Hwang turned. His ancient eyes, usually pools of wisdom, were burning coals of disgust. "The explanation stands right there," he seethed, jabbing a finger toward Taekyun. "Ask your beloved son. Ask the heir you are so proud of."
All eyes, including Mr. Lee's, turned to Taekyun.
Taekyun stood frozen a few feet from the bed, his face ashen. He was staring at Rinwoo's unconscious form as if seeing him for the first time. The slap from Master Hwang, the shattered locket, the near-fatal magical backlash—it had all shattered the icy fortress around his heart. His head throbbed with a physical and emotional pain so acute it was nauseating. His chest ached with a raw, unfamiliar empathy, seeing the devastating result of his own neglect and secrecy laid bare. And beneath it all, a cold, clarifying fury began to crystallize. Yuna. This was all her plan. Her manipulation.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The words were trapped, choked by a lifetime of enforced control and the staggering weight of his guilt.
Seeing his hesitation, Eunjae could no longer contain his own rage and contempt. He stepped forward, his voice dripping with a mocking scorn that cut through the tense silence.
"How can he speak, Father-in-law?" Eunjae spat, his gaze fixed on Taekyun. "He's the reason behind all of this. The great, honorable Taekyun. While married to Rinwoo, he was secretly dating his ex-girlfriend from the past. Behind all our backs."
The accusation landed in the room with the force of a bomb.
Mr. Lee's face went from confused to utterly horrified. His eyes snapped from Eunjae's furious face to his eldest son's frozen, guilty one. The pieces—Rinwoo's collapse, Master Hwang's fury, the word 'grandson'—all clicked into a horrifying picture of scandal, betrayal, and profound shame.
The mighty Lee patriarch was left speechless, staring at the son who had just unraveled the family's reputation and very stability with his hidden affair. The silence that followed was heavier than any shouting, filled with the ruins of trust and the bitter taste of a disgrace that no amount of money or power could erase.
Mr. Lee's shock morphed into a cold, incandescent rage. He didn't rush to Rinwoo's side. He didn't ask about his well-being. He took two sharp strides toward his eldest son, his focus laser-sharp on the source of the potential scandal.
"How could you be so reckless?!" Mr. Lee's voice was a low, furious hiss, meant for Taekyun's ears alone, but it echoed in the dead silent room. "Dating that woman? Behind our backs? What if you had been caught by the media? Photographs? A scandal like that would ruin us! Have you given a single thought to this family's reputation? To the company's image?"
His concerns were not for a broken heart or a shattered spirit. They were for stock prices and social standing.
Eunjae, who was still holding Rinwoo's limp hand, felt the words like a physical blow. His head snapped up, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated disbelief. The last shred of respect he might have held for his father-in-law evaporated.
"He's asking about reputation?" Eunjae whispered, his voice trembling not with fear, but with a furious, disgusted awe. He looked from Mr. Lee's enraged face to Rinwoo's pale, unconscious one. "Rinwoo is lying here because of him," he said, his voice rising as he pointed a shaking finger at Taekyun, "and you're worried about what people will say?"
The blatant prioritization of image over human life, over basic decency, was so grotesque it stole the air from the room. Even Daon, who was well-versed in his father's ways, looked away, a muscle ticking in his jaw, shamed by the callousness.
Master Hwang let out a sound of pure disgust, turning his back on Mr. Lee entirely, his attention solely on his grandson, the only person in the room who seemed to matter. The divide in the room was now absolute: on one side, the Lee family and its toxic obsession with perception; on the other, the devastating human cost of that obsession, represented by the man dying from it.
The raw, furious sound of Eunjae's voice, shouting about reputation and betrayal, pierced through the fog of Rinwoo's unconsciousness. A low, pained groan escaped his lips. His eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened, squinting against the light. The first thing he saw was Master Hwang's worried, ancient face hovering over him.
"Everyone. Out. Now," Master Hwang commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. His eyes swept over the room, a clear dismissal aimed at everyone except his grandson.
Eunjae hesitated, wanting to stay by Rinwoo's side, but Daon, understanding the gravity, firmly took his arm and pulled him from the room. Mr. Lee, his fury momentarily banked by the shock of Rinwoo waking, took a step closer to the bed.
"Rinwoo," Mr. Lee said, his voice attempting a semblance of concern that rang utterly hollow. "How are you feeling?"
The question, coming from him, was the final straw. Rinwoo's eyes, still glassy with fever and exhaustion, welled with tears. He didn't answer. Instead, a broken sob wrenched from his throat. He began to cry in earnest, his body shaking, his breaths coming in choked, hiccupping gasps.
"I… I don't… I don't wanna stay here," he pleaded between sobs, his voice a raw, desperate whisper. He looked past Mr. Lee, his eyes locking onto Master Hwang's. "Please… please, Master hwang… take me away from here. Please. I can't… I can't stay."
Master Hwang's heart shattered. He reached out, gently brushing the tears from Rinwoo's cheeks. "Shhh, my boy. Shhh. I'm here. I'm not going to let you stay here. I promise. No matter what."
"I'm sorry," Rinwoo choked out, the apology nonsensical but born from a lifetime of feeling like a burden. "I'm so sorry…"
"No," Master Hwang said, his own voice thick with emotion. "No, I am sorry. I am so sorry I did not take you away sooner. I am sorry I ever let you stay."
Rinwoo shook his head weakly against the pillow. "It's… it's not your fault. It had nothing to do with you." His breath hitched. "Just… please. Take me away."
Master Hwang nodded, his decision absolute. He looked toward the doorway where Daon was lingering, having just pushed a reluctant Eunjae out.
"Daon," Master Hwang's voice was firm, brooking no argument. "Pack Rinwoo's things. Only the essentials. Prepare the car. We are leaving for the mountains tonight."
The command was given. The Lee family's longest-kept secret was being taken away, and the man who had caused it all could only stand by and watch, his own world crumbling into irredeemable ash.
The sleek black car Mingyu had dropped Taemin off in idled at the curb for a moment before purring away. Taemin trudged toward the estate gates, the weight of the night—Jake's bloody face, Mingyu's dangerous offer, the sickening truth about his brother—heavy on his shoulders. He pushed the main door open, expecting more silence, more tension.
Instead, he was met with a heart-wrenching scene.
In the grand foyer, Master Hwang stood like a steadfast oak, his arm a supportive brace around a visibly trembling Rinwoo. Eunjae was on Rinwoo's other side, his face pale and etched with worry, helping to steady him. A small, simple bag sat at Master Hwang's feet. They were leaving.
Taemin's eyes widened in panic. "Rinwoo hyung?" he called out, his voice laced with confusion and dread. He rushed forward, his own troubles forgotten. "Where… where are you going?"
Rinwoo slowly turned his head. His eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, met Taemin's for a brief second before flickering away, unable to hold the gaze. The pain in them was a physical thing.
It was then that Taemin saw the bag. The reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. He's leaving. They're taking him away.
"No…" The word was a breathless gasp. Then, a torrent of panic unleashed itself. "NO! Hyung, no! You can't go!" He didn't just step forward; he lunged, throwing his arms around Rinwoo in a desperate, clinging hug, burying his face in Rinwoo's shoulder.
Rinwoo stiffened for a second before his own resolve broke. A fresh wave of silent tears streamed down his face, but he remained silent, his body accepting the hug but offering no comfort in return.
"Please, hyung, don't leave," Taemin begged, his voice cracking, muffled against Rinwoo's shirt. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I promise! I promise no one will ever hurt you again! I won't let them! I'll protect you!"
The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. He was no longer the rebellious youngest son; he was a terrified little boy watching his only source of unconditional love walk away.
"After… after my mother died," Taemin sobbed, his body shaking, "you were the only one… the only one who was always there. In the ups and downs. You always smiled. You always made me food. You never got mad at me. Please… please don't leave me too. Don't go."
He clung to Rinwoo, begging like a child, his cries echoing in the vast, cold foyer. It was a display of pure, unvarnished need, a testament to the profound and overlooked role Rinwoo had played as the silent, gentle heart of their fractured family. And now that heart was being ripped out, and Taemin was desperately trying to hold on with everything he had.
The scene in the foyer was one of raw, breathtaking vulnerability. The Lee family, a dynasty built on stoicism and control, was witnessing something it had never seen before: one of its own completely shattered.
Taemin, the playful, often frustratingly rebellious youngest son, was on his knees. Not in defiance, but in utter supplication. He was clutching the fabric of Rinwoo's pants, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. His cries were not quiet; they were the ragged, choking, uncontrollable wails of a child experiencing a profound loss.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry for being loud! I'm sorry for breaking things! I'm sorry for not listening! Please, hyung, don't go! I'll be good! I promise I'll be good!" He was apologizing for a lifetime of minor transgressions, begging for forgiveness for crimes he hadn't even committed, all to make the one constant in his life stay.
Eunjae gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. He had seen Taemin angry, dramatic, and mischievous, but he had never seen him like this—stripped bare, utterly broken.
But it was Taekyun who experienced the true, gut-wrenching impact. He stood frozen, watching his little brother unravel. And as Taemin cried out about their mother, a dam broke in Taekyun's memory.
He saw it then, with painful clarity. After their mother's death, the house had become a cold, silent tomb. Mr. Lee had retreated into his work and his grief. Taekyun himself had walled himself off, building a fortress of ice. Daon had become quieter, more serious.
And Taemin… little Taemin, who had been their mother's sunshine… had been left utterly alone in the echoing silence.
But he hadn't been completely alone.
Taekyun's eyes, wide with a horrifying new understanding, shifted from his sobbing brother to the pale, crying man he was clinging to.
Rinwoo.
Rinwoo, who had entered their household as a quiet, grieving boy himself around that time. Rinwoo, who had no power, no status, nothing to offer but a gentle presence. He had been the one to find a crying Taemin hiding in closets. He had been the one to sneak him extra sweets when he'd had a bad day. He had been the one to listen to his childish woes with infinite patience. He had, without anyone ever noticing, become the substitute for the warmth and care that had died with their mother.
And Taekyun, in his cold dismissal of Rinwoo, had been systematically destroying the one person who had held his little brother together.
The realization was a physical sickness in his stomach. His own heartache, his guilt, was now magnified a thousandfold. He had hurt more than just his husband; he had broken the one pillar supporting his own sibling.
Even Daon, the stoic middle son, felt the overwhelming emotion of the moment. A hard lump formed in his throat, and he had to quickly turn his head, blinking rapidly to force back the unexpected sting of tears. The sight of Taemin's raw, childish grief was a mirror reflecting a neglect they had all been complicit in.
In that moment, the cost of their family's coldness was laid bare not in scandal or business losses, but in the heartbroken sobs of the youngest Lee, begging his makeshift mother not to abandon him.
Rinwoo stood trapped in a storm of agony. His own tears were a silent river down his cheeks, his body trembling from the effort of standing and the emotional onslaught. Taemin's desperate, childlike pleas were shredding the last of his resolve. He wanted to sink to the floor and hold him, to promise he would never leave. But the memory of Yuna's smirk, the feel of the photographs, the crushing weight of two years of neglect—it was a pain too deep to ignore. He was broken, and he knew he couldn't heal in this house that had become his prison.
He looked helplessly at Master Hwang, his eyes begging for guidance, for strength.
Master Hwang's face was a mask of profound sorrow, but his resolve was firm. He gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head. The message was clear: We must go. For your sake.
Seeing Rinwoo's torment and Taemin's utter collapse, Eunjae moved. He knelt beside the sobbing Taemin, his own heart breaking. He placed a gentle hand on Taemin's heaving back.
"Taemin-ah," Eunjae said, his voice soft but firm, cutting through the wails. "You have to let him go."
Taemin shook his head violently, his grip on Rinwoo's legs tightening. "No! No, I won't!"
"Listen to me," Eunjae insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Look at him. He's hurting. He's sick. He needs to go somewhere safe and warm where he can heal. You want him to get better, don't you?"
Taemin's sobs quieted to hiccupping cries, but he didn't let go.
"He'll come back," Eunjae promised, though he had no authority to make such a promise. He willed it to be true. "Once he's all healed and strong again, he'll come back. But you have to let him go now. Please, Taemin. For him."
But Taemin had retreated to a place of pure, stubborn instinct. The logical words couldn't penetrate his primal fear of abandonment. A deep, stubborn frown etched itself onto his tear-streaked face. He shook his head again, his jaw setting with a determination that was both heartbreaking and frustrating.
"No," he stated, his voice hoarse but clear, laced with a toddler's inflexible will. He wasn't arguing; he was simply stating a fact as he saw it. He would not release Rinwoo. He would not allow him to leave. In his shattered state, he believed that if he just held on tightly enough, he could keep his world from falling apart. The battle was no longer about reason; it was a test of pure, desperate willpower against the inevitable.
Rinwoo stood frozen, caught in the storm of Taemin's grief. His own tears fell silently, a steady stream of helpless anguish. He looked down at the young man clinging to him as if he were a lifeline, and his heart broke all over again. He looked to Master Hwang, his eyes begging for guidance, for someone to tell him what to do.
Master Hwang's face was a mask of profound sorrow. He gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head. The message was clear and heartbreaking: You cannot stay. For your own sake, you must go.
It was Eunjae who moved. He knelt down beside the sobbing Taemin, his own voice soft but firm, cutting through the raw emotion. "Taemin-ah," he said, placing a hand on his heaving back. "You have to let him go."
Taemin shook his head violently, his grip tightening. "No! No, I won't!"
"Listen to me," Eunjae insisted, his tone gentle but unwavering. "Look at him. He's hurting. He's broken. He can't heal here. Every corner of this house holds a painful memory for him now. He needs to go somewhere safe. Somewhere warm and quiet, away from all… this." He gestured around the cold, opulent foyer, a place that had been a gilded cage for Rinwoo's spirit.
"He needs to get strong again," Eunjae continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "And when he's healed, when he's ready, he'll come back. I promise. But you have to let him go now. For him."
The words, spoken with such earnest care, finally began to penetrate Taemin's panic. His sobs quieted to ragged hitches. He looked up, his face blotchy and tear-streaked, first at Eunjae's determined face, then up at Rinwoo's pale, exhausted one. He saw the truth in it. The deep, soul-weary pain that required more than just apologies; it required peace.
A stubborn frown had been etched on his face, but it slowly melted away, replaced by a dawning, heartbreaking understanding. This wasn't about what he wanted. This was about what Rinwoo needed.
With a final, shuddering breath that sounded like it tore his soul in two, Taemin's grip on Rinwoo's pants loosened. His hands fell away, landing limply in his own lap. He didn't look up again, just stared at the floor, his small nod almost imperceptible.
It was the most difficult, mature thing he had ever done. He was letting go of his anchor, trusting that it would return, even though every fiber of his being screamed to hold on tighter. The little boy was still there, begging his mother not to leave, but the young man he was becoming understood that sometimes, love means letting go. The silence that followed his surrender was heavier than his cries had been.