The meeting ended without resolution.
No one raised their voice.
No one argued.
No one forced a decision.
But the silence that followed Daehyun out of that room felt heavier than any confrontation could have been.
The city outside had grown darker by the time he stepped into the cold night air. Seoul stretched endlessly beneath the skyline, glowing with life and movement. Cars rushed along the river bridges, towers of glass reflected the lights of neighboring buildings, and somewhere inside those towers people were still working late into the night — executives making decisions worth billions.
For most of his life, Daehyun had believed those were the kinds of decisions that mattered.
Mergers.
Corporate battles.
Leadership transitions within KGI Group or strategic shifts within Hanseong Holdings.
But tonight he understood something painful.
None of those decisions were truly difficult.
Because none of them required choosing between the two people who made his life worth living.
The Call
He didn't drive home.
Not immediately.
Instead he sat inside the car for several minutes, staring out at the river without seeing it.
His phone rested quietly in his hand.
The screen lit up eventually.
The caretaker.
He answered.
"Mr. Kang?"
Her voice sounded careful.
"Yes."
"Minjun asked if you were coming home tonight."
The question landed heavily.
For a moment Daehyun couldn't answer.
The image of the house filled his mind.
Sooah sleeping upstairs.
Minjun waiting downstairs.
The fragile routine he had spent two years constructing.
The illusion of stability.
Then the conversation from earlier echoed again.
What happens when Minjun grows older?
His voice finally returned.
"I won't be home tonight."
The caretaker paused.
"I understand."
"Stay with him," Daehyun said quietly.
"I'll come back in the morning."
"Of course."
The call ended.
The silence inside the car deepened.
For the first time in years, Daehyun had chosen not to return home.
The Other House
The secluded property sat far outside the center of the city.
A mansion hidden behind tall trees and long private roads.
No staff.
No lights.
No security teams.
Just a place that belonged to him alone.
He had bought it years ago without any real reason.
Back when life had still been easy.
Back when his biggest concern had been escaping the constant expectations surrounding the heir of KGI Group.
Ironically, it had become the only place he could breathe now.
The gate opened slowly.
The house inside stood completely dark.
He didn't bother turning on most of the lights when he entered.
Only the kitchen.
The refrigerator hummed softly in the silence.
He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
No glass.
Just the bottle.
The First Drink
The burn of alcohol slid down his throat quickly.
He barely tasted it.
He walked through the quiet mansion slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing faintly across marble floors.
The house felt empty.
Too large.
Too quiet.
It had never been meant for someone living alone.
He eventually settled in the living room.
Large windows overlooked the distant mountains beyond the city.
The night sky stretched endlessly above them.
Another drink.
Then another.
The warmth of alcohol spread slowly through his chest, but it did nothing to quiet the thoughts that had begun circling his mind.
The Impossible Choice
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
The bottle hung loosely in one hand.
"How am I supposed to choose…"
The words escaped him before he realized he had spoken aloud.
Because that was what the conversation with their parents had become.
Not directly.
No one had demanded it explicitly.
But the meaning was clear.
If Sooah stayed home—
Minjun would grow up inside that chaos.
If Sooah went to a care facility—
She would lose the home she loved.
Lose the life she had built.
And perhaps lose the last fragile connection to reality she still had.
Both options felt like betrayal.
Both options felt wrong.
Another drink burned down his throat.
His eyes stung suddenly.
Not from the alcohol.
From something far more painful.
His World
He leaned back against the couch slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"…You're both my world."
His voice sounded rough.
Because it was true.
Sooah was not just his wife.
She was the reason he had ever grown up at all.
Before meeting her, life had felt like a long, endless vacation.
He had treated responsibilities like temporary inconveniences.
Like free trials that could be abandoned whenever they became uncomfortable.
But Sooah had changed that.
She had believed in him when no one else did.
Had pushed him.
Challenged him.
Loved him.
Even during the years when he was nothing more than a lazy heir hiding behind his father's wealth.
And Minjun—
Minjun had given his life something even deeper.
Purpose.
The small boy who ran toward him every morning without hesitation.
Who believed his father could solve any problem.
Who laughed easily and trusted completely.
How was he supposed to choose between them?
The Breaking Point
The bottle hit the table harder than he intended.
His hands trembled slightly.
"…I can't."
The words came out quietly.
"I can't choose."
His chest tightened painfully.
For two years he had handled every crisis alone.
Found solutions.
Built routines.
Controlled situations that should have been impossible to control.
But this—
This was different.
Because it wasn't a problem he could solve.
It was a decision.
A decision that would shape both of their lives forever.
The thought made something inside him finally break.
His head lowered into his hands.
And the tears came.
The Man Who Never Complained
The crying didn't come quietly at first.
It arrived in harsh, uneven breaths.
The kind that shook his shoulders.
The kind that felt pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.
For two years he had held everything together.
Stayed calm.
Stayed patient.
Stayed strong.
But tonight there was no one watching.
No one expecting composure.
No one needing reassurance.
So the truth finally escaped.
"I don't know what to do…"
His voice cracked completely.
"I don't know…"
Another breath shuddered through him.
The stab wound at his side throbbed painfully beneath his shirt.
Bruises across his ribs ached from earlier struggles.
But none of that hurt as much as the thought circling his mind.
What if he couldn't protect both of them?
What if saving one meant losing the other?
The Question That Haunts Him
Eventually the crying slowed.
The room grew quiet again.
Daehyun sat there staring at the dark window for a long time.
The bottle rested loosely in his hand.
His voice returned eventually.
Soft.
Almost broken.
"…There has to be a way."
He repeated the thought like a fragile promise.
"There has to be."
Because the alternative was something he refused to accept.
He would endure pain.
Exhaustion.
Violence.
Isolation.
Anything.
But losing Sooah or Minjun?
That was the one thing he could never allow.
So he sat there through the night.
Drinking slowly.
Crying quietly.
And searching desperately for a solution to a problem that might not have one.
Somewhere across the city, his wife slept peacefully without knowing the storm surrounding her future.
And his son dreamed quietly under the watchful eye of a caretaker.
Unaware that his father was sitting alone in the dark, trying to figure out how to save them both.