The Sylvan family wasted no time. The moment Sof's DNA results confirmed what their hearts already knew, they began digging into his life. Every scrap of information they unearthed only deepened their fascination—and their guilt.
Sof, they discovered, had a bedtime. Eight o'clock sharp.
The detail was so small, so childlike, and yet it pierced them. They weren't supposed to know this. It felt like trespassing into the gentle rhythm of a life they had been absent from for fifteen years.
But behind that innocence was something darker. The family's investigation revealed who had taken Wohyoon, who had raised him all this time: a wanted criminal.
The Sylvans went straight to the police. But wanting more control, they hired someone else—an investigator of their own choosing.
He was known only as Detective Kim. In his circles, his skills were whispered about with respect, though he avoided fame. No articles, no photos, no name recognition. He preferred it that way; the less people knew of him, the easier it was to slip unnoticed into shadows.
On a park bench, Galen Sylvan—the eldest brother—met with him. From a distance, they looked like strangers: Galen flanked by bodyguards, Kim slouched in a hoodie, headphones dangling from his ears, eyes fixed on his phone. But their words carried weight.
"You've read the case file I sent," Galen said bluntly. "So let's cut to the chase. Find that criminal who kidnapped and raised our Wohyoon. Whatever your price is, I'll pay it."
Detective Kim didn't even glance up. "Yeah, yeah. I'll look into it."
Galen didn't care about appearances, only results. Neither of them knew the tangled mystery they were about to walk into—the confusion and secrets buried beneath the case of the missing Wohyoon.
When their talk was done, they left in opposite directions: Galen escorted away in a black car, Kim blending into the crowd, jogging off like any other passerby.
---
The very next day, Detective Kim made his move.
If he wanted to find the kidnapper, he needed to start with Sof himself. And Mother's Day gave him the perfect excuse. Flowers were the kind of thing no one questioned.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
"Welcome to Bloom Flower Shop."
The voice froze him.
For the first time, Kim laid eyes on Sof.
The man before him stood tall—around five foot eleven—with a strong, broad frame, though his presence radiated nothing but warmth. His smile was easy, his eyes bright, his movements unhurried as he tended to rows of living color. His dark, wavy curls caught the light, one side held back with a simple bear-shaped clip. Pale skin, tamed brows, a quiet gentleness—it all painted a picture that was disarmingly human.
Detective Kim forgot how to breathe.
"Uhmm… do you have a suggestion for… uh… flowers for moms?" His words stumbled clumsily from his mouth. He had interviewed hardened criminals, charmed witnesses into confessions, stared down gun barrels without blinking. But this? This man? He left him rattled.
Sof looked up from his work, a warm smile tugging at his lips.
"What do you want to tell her?" he asked simply.
"I… want her to know I'm grateful. And that I love her."
Sof nodded knowingly, his hands already moving. "Hydrangea, lily, and rose. Hydrangea means gratitude. Lily says 'thank you.' And the rose? That one says 'I love you.'"
He spoke with the casual authority of someone who truly knew his way with flowers, even as he absentmindedly watered a row of orchids nearby.
"What's your budget?" he asked, glancing back.
"Uh… around ten thousand won," Kim replied, trying to mask the fact that his gaze was drifting, searching for clues.
"Alright then," Sof said brightly, moving to the worktable. His hands began arranging stems with care, every motion natural, practiced, unhurried.
Kim took the chance to let his eyes wander. To anyone else, he looked like another customer admiring greenery. But his detective's mind was cataloguing every detail: the shop's layout, the dust along the shelves, the subtle signs of daily life.
He threw in casual questions, his tone light. "So… what about you? What would you give your mom for Mother's Day?"
The air shifted.
For the briefest second, Sof froze. His expression hardened—anger, sharp and raw, flickering across his face like lightning. Then it was gone, replaced by the same calm smile as before. A heartbeat, no more.
But Detective Kim saw it.
And he knew, instantly, that Sof hated the question.