The night refused to end.
After leaving the bathroom, Kang Daehyun didn't return to bed.
Sleep had become something distant to him long ago—something other people did. For him, nights were simply long stretches of time where he moved quietly through the house, ensuring everything held together until morning arrived.
He stepped into the living room.
The lights were off except for a small lamp near the far corner, casting a faint golden glow over the wide marble floor. The enormous glass windows overlooked the sleeping city, thousands of lights scattered across the darkness like fallen stars.
On the couch, Han Sooah slept.
Her breathing was soft.
Peaceful.
Her hair had fallen across her cheek, slightly tangled from the earlier struggle, and one of her hands was curled loosely against the pillow. To anyone else she looked like a woman simply resting after a long day.
Beautiful.
Calm.
Unaware of the storm she had unleashed just hours earlier.
Daehyun stood there for a long time, watching her.
This woman had once been the center of his world.
She still was.
That was the problem.
His ribs ached as he slowly lowered himself into a chair across the room.
The pain barely registered anymore.
He leaned back and let his head fall against the cushion.
For a moment he closed his eyes.
Two years.
The number repeated in his mind again.
Two years since everything changed.
Two years since the doctors explained her condition in quiet voices inside a sterile hospital office.
Two years since the woman who had once commanded boardrooms and global negotiations had begun losing pieces of herself.
Two years of hiding it from the world.
Two years of pretending their life was normal.
Two years of building a body strong enough to survive her episodes.
Two years of raising Minjun while also running companies he never wanted to touch.
And yet the world believed he had everything.
Because technically, he did.
He was the son of the richest man alive.
The heir to KGI Group, a private empire so vast that even other billionaires treated it like a nation rather than a corporation.
News outlets constantly speculated about the company's influence across finance, energy, technology, and global infrastructure.
Some analysts claimed its true value was impossible to calculate.
Others simply called it the most powerful corporate entity in the world.
And one day it would all belong to him.
Not just that.
Through Sooah, he was also tied to Hanseong Holdings, another giant in international markets.
Together, the two families controlled an economic force that shaped entire industries.
If power could be measured, the Kang–Han marriage had created something almost unmatched.
People envied them.
Students studied their business strategies.
Media called them the golden couple of modern corporate Korea.
People believed Kang Daehyun was the luckiest man alive.
He laughed quietly at the thought.
It wasn't a bitter laugh.
Just tired.
Because none of that mattered.
None of it meant anything.
His gaze drifted back toward the couch.
Toward Sooah.
Because the truth was painfully simple.
He had everything in the world.
Everything except the one thing he actually wanted.
His voice came out quietly in the empty room.
"…What's the point of all this?"
The words disappeared into the silence.
Money.
Power.
Influence.
Entire corporations moved at his decisions now.
Executives twice his age stood when he entered boardrooms.
Markets shifted when he signed contracts.
Governments negotiated with him carefully.
Yet none of that could fix the one thing that mattered.
None of it could restore Sooah's mind.
None of it could give his son a normal childhood.
None of it could bring back the woman who used to laugh when she beat him at strategy games.
None of it could erase the look of terror in her eyes when she woke up during an episode and thought he was a stranger.
His jaw tightened slightly.
For the first time in months he allowed himself to think about something he normally pushed away.
His father.
The man who built KGI Group from a national powerhouse into something that dominated global markets.
The man the media called the richest person in the world.
Growing up, Daehyun had always believed that kind of power meant control.
Control over life.
Control over outcomes.
Control over the future.
That belief had died two years ago.
Because even his father's money couldn't solve this.
The best neurologists in the world had examined Sooah.
The most advanced research teams had studied her condition.
Entire private laboratories were funded quietly through shell companies.
Millions—no, billions—had already been poured into experimental treatments.
Still her memory continued breaking apart piece by piece.
His hands rested loosely against his knees.
He stared at the floor.
"I'm the richest man's son."
The words sounded almost absurd when he said them aloud.
"And I can't even protect my own wife."
A sharp pain twisted in his chest.
He leaned forward slightly, pressing his palm against his ribs.
Not the wound.
Something deeper.
Something heavier.
For a moment he imagined a different life.
One where he had never met Sooah.
One where he remained the useless heir everyone expected him to be.
Fat.
Lazy.
Carefree.
Playing games until sunrise.
Complaining about meaningless inconveniences.
That version of him would probably be happier.
The thought almost made him smile.
But it vanished instantly.
Because that life would have meant never meeting her.
Never hearing her laugh.
Never holding Minjun when he was born.
Never experiencing the strange, overwhelming love that had changed his entire world.
No.
Even now, he would choose this life again.
Every painful moment of it.
If it meant those memories were real.
His eyes drifted back to Sooah sleeping on the couch.
Her breathing was still soft and steady.
For now, at least, she was peaceful.
That was enough.
Slowly he stood.
His ribs protested immediately.
He ignored it.
Walking quietly across the room, he adjusted the blanket that had slipped slightly from her shoulder.
The gesture was careful.
Gentle.
She didn't wake.
For a moment he simply stood there looking down at her.
Then he whispered something so quietly the words barely existed.
"I don't care about anything else."
His voice held no bitterness.
Only quiet exhaustion.
"You're the only thing I ever wanted."
The room stayed silent.
The city lights flickered far beyond the glass windows.
And Kang Daehyun—son of the richest man in the world—stood alone in the quiet darkness beside the one thing his power could not fix.