The house had finally gone quiet again.
Staff had cleared the shattered glass from the living room floor. The wooden tray Sooah had thrown earlier had been removed, the faint dent it left in the wall already scheduled for repair.
From the outside, the mansion looked normal again.
Untouched.
Perfect.
But inside the walls of the house, something irreversible had happened.
Han Mira had seen the truth with her own eyes.
And no amount of polite explanations could erase what she had witnessed.
Sooah Resting
Upstairs, Sooah slept.
The episode had drained her completely, as they always did. By the time the medication began to settle into her system, exhaustion followed almost immediately.
She had fallen asleep within minutes.
Peaceful.
Quiet.
As if nothing violent had happened at all.
Daehyun had stayed beside her until her breathing steadied.
Until the tension finally left her body.
Only then did he leave the room.
Only then did he step into the hallway where Mira waited.
The Private Conversation
They moved into the study.
It was one of the few rooms in the house that remained dim even during the day. Heavy wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with business texts and strategy books Sooah had once devoured late into the night.
Mira remembered those nights clearly.
Her daughter had always loved working.
Loved thinking.
Loved solving impossible problems.
Now she slept upstairs like someone recovering from a long illness.
Daehyun closed the door quietly behind them.
For a moment neither spoke.
Because the images from earlier still lingered too vividly.
The vase shattering.
Sooah's terrified voice.
The way she had swung the tray at him without hesitation.
Mira finally looked at him.
And now that she was seeing him without the chaos of the episode surrounding them—
The damage was impossible to ignore.
The long sleeves he always wore.
The stiffness in the way he held his ribs.
The faint discoloration along his jaw where an older bruise had faded but not completely vanished.
Her chest tightened slowly.
"How long?" she asked quietly.
Daehyun understood the question immediately.
His answer came calmly.
"…It's manageable."
That wasn't an answer.
Mira's voice grew firmer.
"How long, Daehyun?"
He hesitated.
Just briefly.
"About two years."
The words settled into the room like something heavy falling onto the floor.
Two years.
Two years of this.
Two years of episodes.
Two years of physical struggle.
Two years of hiding it from everyone.
Mira looked down at her hands.
"…You never told us."
Daehyun gave a small, almost apologetic smile.
"She wouldn't want you to worry."
The response made Mira feel something close to heartbreak.
Even now.
Even after everything he had endured.
He was still protecting Sooah's pride.
His Calm Explanation
Daehyun leaned slightly against the desk behind him.
His posture looked relaxed.
But Mira noticed the careful way he shifted his weight.
As if protecting an injury.
"It's not usually this bad," he said quietly.
"She only gets violent when she's frightened."
His tone carried no bitterness.
No resentment.
Just the calm explanation of someone describing a difficult but manageable routine.
"Most days she's fine."
"She forgets things sometimes."
"Sometimes she thinks she's somewhere else."
"But when the medicine works, she's still herself."
Mira listened carefully.
Every word he spoke carried the quiet determination of someone who had already decided his role in this situation.
"I can handle it," he added.
The sentence was simple.
Confident.
Certain.
He had convinced himself of it long ago.
Mira studied him silently.
Because she had just watched her daughter try to attack him with a tray.
She had watched him get bitten.
Hit.
Struck.
And yet he still stood here speaking as if the situation was under control.
"Daehyun," she said gently.
"You're injured."
He shrugged lightly.
"It looks worse than it is."
The dismissal came too quickly.
Too easily.
It was the kind of lie someone told when they had repeated it to themselves hundreds of times.
The Man Who Won't Complain
Mira suddenly understood something clearly.
Daehyun wasn't pretending for their sake.
He truly believed what he was saying.
Somewhere in the past two years, he had accepted this life completely.
Accepted the pain.
Accepted the exhaustion.
Accepted the violence.
Because in his mind, there was only one rule.
Sooah was sick.
And sick people were not responsible for what they did during episodes.
So he absorbed everything quietly.
Without complaint.
Without asking anyone for help.
Because that was what he believed love required.
The Question
Mira stepped closer.
Her voice softened.
"And Minjun?"
For the first time since the conversation began—
Daehyun hesitated.
Only slightly.
But she saw it.
He answered carefully.
"I make sure he's not around during the episodes."
"You bring him to us every night."
"Yes."
The admission was calm.
Matter-of-fact.
"I wait until she's asleep before leaving."
"And bring him back in the morning."
Mira's heart tightened again.
So that was why the boy stayed with them so often.
Not convenience.
Protection.
She took a slow breath.
"And when he's here?"
Daehyun didn't answer immediately.
Because both of them knew the truth.
Episodes didn't follow schedules.
They happened suddenly.
Without warning.
Mira's voice grew quieter.
"He has seen it."
Daehyun's eyes lowered slightly.
"He's young."
"That doesn't mean he doesn't understand."
The silence between them stretched.
Heavy.
Painful.
Then Mira said the words that had been sitting inside her chest since the breakfast conversation with Minjun.
"He thinks it's a game."
Daehyun looked up.
His expression changed slightly.
Just a flicker.
But it was enough.
"He said Mommy throws things," Mira continued softly.
"And that Daddy says you're playing."
Daehyun exhaled slowly.
For the first time since they started speaking, the exhaustion in his face became visible.
"I didn't want him to be afraid of her."
His voice sounded quieter now.
"He loves her."
"And she loves him."
"I didn't want that to change."
Mira felt her throat tighten.
Because that explanation made perfect sense.
And it made the situation even more heartbreaking.
The Question He Cannot Answer
She stepped closer to him.
Her voice gentle but firm.
"What happens when he's older?"
Daehyun didn't respond.
"When he realizes it isn't a game."
Still nothing.
"What happens when he understands that his mother is hurting you?"
The room felt very still.
Because this question had no simple answer.
Daehyun looked down at the floor.
For two years he had solved every problem alone.
Found solutions for every crisis.
Managed corporations.
Protected Sooah's dignity.
Protected Minjun's innocence.
But this question—
Had no solution he could offer.
Finally he spoke.
Quietly.
"…I'll figure it out."
But even as the words left his mouth, Mira knew something he hadn't admitted yet.
He didn't know how.
And for the first time since the conversation began, Kang Daehyun looked like a man carrying a weight even he might not be able to hold forever.