Shan Wolf paused his thrusts on Ingrid Mikage as he caught his breath, his forehead resting against hers. In the brief stillness between them, she looked up at him and asked softly,
"Did you just call me… honey?"
The word lingered in the air longer than either of them expected.
Something inside him snapped.
"Damn it…" Shan muttered, his jaw tightening. After hearing her call him that, his control shattered. He began to move again, harder this time, pouring everything he felt into her.
Ingrid clung to him, her breath breaking as he drove her into overwhelming ecstasy, the night stretching on until midnight inside his penthouse.
"I'm coming!" Shan shouted, his pace increasing as he finally lost himself completely. Ingrid cried out with him, their bodies trembling together as they collapsed in the aftermath, spent and breathless.
Now I know what I really like…
The thought drifted through Ingrid's mind as she lay there, her body still shaking from the aftershocks. Her limbs felt heavy, her senses dulled, yet her heart was strangely full.
"Shan… ♡"
She murmured his name while trying to steady her breathing. As they settled beneath the sheets, the heat between them slowly fading, Shan Wolf broke the silence.
"How is your daughter?" he asked quietly. "Is she alright?"
Ingrid turned her face away slightly.
"Not yet," she answered.
Talking about it still hurt. Explaining the trauma—how close her daughter had come to being raped—only made the wound deeper. Her fingers curled into the sheets as she spoke again, her voice strained.
"Even though I hate you, Shan… I'm indebted to you for saving my Kim Yeon."
She gazed toward the window, where the stars shone brightly against the night sky.
"But I know she'll be fine. She's a tough child," Ingrid said, swallowing hard. "Even though she's only sixteen."
She lifted her hand, cradling it as if holding a baby, her expression soft yet pained.
"A child… is like your heart outside your body," she whispered. "So precious. So fragile. And yet there's nothing you can do to control what happens to them."
Her hand tightened on the blanket, clutching it as if she wanted to tear it apart.
"How dare they do that to my daughter…" Her voice cracked. Tears welled in her eyes, and a single tear slipped down her cheek.
"I'll do whatever it takes to take down Gin Chu Won and that Vice President, Jen Heo Won," she said, her anger flaring. "I'll make them pay a millionfold. I'll fucking kill—"
Shan Wolf pulled her into his chest before she could finish. His arms wrapped around her tightly, firm and protective. Ingrid froze for a moment, then slowly relaxed as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"You don't need to do that," he whispered, gently wiping away her tears with his index finger. "I won't let them make you suffer anymore, Ingrid."
"Bastard…" she muttered, her voice muffled against his chest.
"I know," Shan replied softly, brushing her hair back with careful fingers. "I'm your bastard."
Her body finally gave in to exhaustion. Ingrid settled against him, her breathing evening out as she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. Shan Wolf continued to stare out the window, the stars reflecting faintly in his eyes.
He remembered the moment Ingrid had hung herself during her daughter's funeral—the despair, the silence, the horror. He remembered using his ability, rewinding time through death itself, just to save them both.
No matter what happens, I will be there to protect you.
The promise echoed in his mind as he tightened his hold around her. With Ingrid safely in his arms, Shan Wolf finally allowed himself to rest, the night swallowing them in quiet peace.
At the same time, at the Won Family main household, Eh San Won—the chairman of Won Group, now eighty-three years old—was seated comfortably as a young, fresh-skinned woman massaged his back. Her hands moved slowly and skillfully, pressing into his aging muscles as warm lamplight filled the room.
From afar, behind tightly closed curtains, a figure stood in silent attendance.
"So," Eh San Won said lazily, his eyes half-closed, "how's the food in America?"
"It's okay," the man behind the curtains replied calmly. "I'd rather have street food because of the portions. American food tastes better on the fourth try, though. Besides, I prefer cafeteria food. It costs less."
Eh San Won scoffed. "I beg you to stop fooling around with those peasants. The time you spent pretending to be an ordinary citizen will have a positive impact on your public image."
"Ah, but that same media is causing a little fuss, no?" the man said. His voice carried faint amusement. "They're like rats digging for clues—whatever they can find on you."
Eh San Won turned slightly. The woman shifted positions, moving from his back to his chest, her hands gliding over him before she climbed up and straddled his lap, resuming her work without hesitation.
"It seems somebody leaked information from the other side," Eh San Won said thoughtfully.
After a brief silence, he waved it off.
"If a slave isn't scheming to overthrow his master," he continued, "what joy would there be for me?"
The man behind the curtains chuckled softly. "True. A master always finds joy in disciplining lowly slaves. Just like in the 1800s and 1900s, when blacks were enslaved. Or how white British scum tried to steal land from the true natives of America, claiming some bullshit god promised it to them."
Eh San Won burst into wicked laughter, the sound echoing throughout the room.
"If you really think that way, then go ahead," he said, his grin widening. "Do whatever you wish. In return, I want you to take care of it—quickly and slowly."
The man behind the curtains bowed deeply. "Yes, Father. I'll be sure to remove the 'pests.'"
"Good. Now leave," Eh San Won replied dismissively. "Your father needs to enjoy his fresh meat."
He rose from his seat as the woman followed him eagerly.
Meanwhile, the man behind the curtains turned away, exiting the room and walking out through the Won family entrance. The night air greeted him as he stepped outside.
"Really, sir. You're a healthy man," he muttered with a faint smirk. "Though it'll be difficult to kill them all without making noise, Father. Especially with him there."
He pulled out a photograph and studied it under the dim light. It showed a group of children dressed as soldiers. Their faces were blank—no smiles, no emotion.
His gaze lingered on one figure at the corner. A little blonde girl clung closely to the boy beside her, as if he were her older brother.
His expression hardened.
He crumpled the photo in his fist, then set it ablaze with a lighter. The fire consumed it quickly, ash falling to the ground as he looked up at the night sky, where the stars cut through the darkness of Seoul.
"Just to make sure it's you, my dear old friend," he murmured, "I'll send you a gift tomorrow."
He smirked to himself, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
"Kukukukuku…" he laughed softly. "It really makes me so fucking disgusted when filthy peasants don't even realize their own place."
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Chapter 68 — End.