The first light of dawn was just a pale hint behind the mountains when a firm, insistent knock echoed through the silent shrine. Beom Seok, who had been awake for a while, unable to sleep after the horrors of the previous night, was the first to hear it. His heart, already heavy with worry for Rinwoo, sank further. Who could it be at this hour?
Cautiously, he slid the heavy wooden door open just a crack. And froze.
Standing on the worn stone step, looking haggard and utterly out of place in his expensive but rumpled city clothes, was Lee Taekyun.
A wave of pure, protective fury washed over Beom Seok. This man. This source of all of Rinwoo's pain, standing at their doorstep as if he had any right to be there.
Without a word, Beom Seok moved to slam the door shut.
"Wait!" Taekyun's hand shot out, stopping the door with surprising strength. His voice was rough from lack of sleep, but it held a new, unfamiliar note—not a command, but a plea. "Please. I need to see Rinwoo."
Beom Seok shoved against the door, his anger giving him force. "Get lost!" he hissed, not wanting to wake the others. "Haven't you done enough? You're not welcome here! He doesn't want to see you!"
"I know I'm not welcome," Taekyun said, his voice low and urgent. He didn't try to push back aggressively, just held the door firm. "I know what I've done. That's why I'm here. Just let me see him for five minutes. I just need to talk to him."
"Talk?" Beom Seok scoffed, his voice trembling with rage. "What could you possibly have to say to him? More lies? More empty promises? He's finally starting to find some peace away from you, and you come here to destroy it again? Leave him alone!"
"I'm not here to destroy anything!" Taekyun insisted, his composure cracking. The desperation was raw in his eyes. "I'm here to… to apologize. Please. Beom Seok-ssi. Just let me in."
Hearing his name from Taekyun's mouth startled Beom Seok. The great Lee Taekyun was actually pleading with him. But the memory of Rinwoo's broken state, the shattered glass, the shadow of suicide, was too fresh, too terrifying.
"An apology?" Beom Seok shot back, his voice rising despite his efforts to keep it down. "You think an apology can fix what you did? You think words can heal him? He's not some business deal you can negotiate! Get out of here before I call Master Hwang!"
The two men were locked in a tense, silent struggle at the door—one fueled by a lifetime of righteous anger, the other by a desperate, last-chance hope. The peace of the sacred mountain was shattered by the very conflict Rinwoo had climbed it to escape.
The heated whispers at the door had grown too loud. The sound of a sliding screen echoed softly, and Master Hwang emerged from his room, his ancient face drawn with a new layer of worry. He saw Beom Seok straining against the heavy door, his body rigid with anger.
"Beom Seok-ah," Master Hwang's voice, though quiet, carried an undeniable authority. "What is the meaning of this? The doors of this shrine are meant to be open to all. Open it."
Beom Seok turned, his expression a mixture of fury and frustration. "But Master—!"
"Open it," Master Hwang repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With a final, furious glare through the crack, Beom Seok reluctantly stepped back and yanked the door fully open, revealing Lee Taekyun standing on their threshold, looking more like a lost traveler than a corporate heir.
Master Hwang's eyes widened in genuine shock. He had expected a villager, perhaps, not the source of his grandson's deepest pain. His expression hardened. "Lee Taekyun-ssi," he said, his voice cool and formal. "Why are you here?"
Taekyun, seeing the ancient, discerning eyes upon him, dropped any pretense of pride. He bowed deeply, his voice thick with emotion. "Master Hwang. I… I have come to apologize to Rinwoo. I know it is too late. I know it may be impossible. But I must try."
Master Hwang studied him for a long, silent moment. He saw the shadows under his eyes, the tremor in his hands, the absence of the arrogant posture he remembered. This was not the same man who had treated his grandson as an inconvenience.
"You have done something that cannot be easily forgiven," Master Hwang stated, his words not cruel, but heavy with truth. "An apology is just a beginning. To even have the right to speak it, you would have to earn it."
Taekyun straightened up, meeting the old monk's gaze with a startling determination. "I am ready to do anything. Anything you ask. I have nowhere else to go."
Master Hwang's mind raced. He thought of Rinwoo, finally sleeping after a night of terror. He thought of the fragile, fractured state of his grandson's spirit. An unexpected visitor, especially this one, could shatter him completely. But… he also saw a potential catalyst. A dangerous one, but perhaps a necessary one. The poison and the antidote arriving at the same time.
After a long, thoughtful pause, Master Hwang turned to Beom Seok, who was still fuming. "Beom Seok. Show him to the guest room. The one at the very end of the hall. Away from Rinwoo's."
Beom Seok looked like he'd been ordered to swallow a live frog, but he gave a stiff, reluctant nod.
Master Hwang then turned his full attention back to Taekyun. "You will stay in that room. You will not come out. You will not seek him. You will not make a sound. Rinwoo has just found a few moments of peace. If he sees you now, in his state, the consequences could be… severe." The old man's eyes held a grave warning. "We will see how he is when he wakes. If he is calm, if he is stable… then, and only then, will I consider allowing you to approach him. Do you understand?"
It was a test of patience and humility. Taekyun bowed again, deeper this time. "I understand. I will wait. However long it takes. Thank you."
With a final, wary glance, Master Hwang turned and retreated into the depths of the shrine. Beom Seok gestured for Taekyun to follow, leading him down the hallway in the opposite direction of Rinwoo's room, shutting him in the small, sparse guest chamber like a prisoner awaiting a verdict. The man who had once commanded boardrooms was now confined to a silent room, his fate entirely dependent on the fragile peace of the man he had broken.
Beom Seok led Taekyun down the quiet hallway, his steps heavy with resentment. He pointed to a small, simple room at the very end, as far from Rinwoo's as possible.
"This is it," Beom Seok said, his voice a low, unfriendly mutter. "Don't get comfortable. And don't you dare wander around. You've caused enough trouble." He didn't wait for a response, turning on his heel to leave.
But as he passed Rinwoo's door, his feet slowed to a stop. He stood there for a long moment, his hand hovering over the sliding screen. A confusing, tight knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach. He was angry, yes. Furious at Taekyun for daring to show his face here.
But beneath the anger was a colder, sharper fear.
He was afraid Taekyun's presence would be a shock that would send Rinwoo spiraling even deeper. The progress they'd made last night, as fragile as it was, could be obliterated in an instant by the sight of the man who haunted his dreams. That was a fear he understood. It was a fear for Rinwoo's well-being.
But as he stood there, another, more selfish fear whispered in the back of his mind, one that made his chest ache with a sudden, surprising pang.
What if he forgives him?
The thought was like a physical blow. What if Rinwoo, with his kind, forgiving heart, saw Taekyun's apology and his grand gesture of leaving everything behind… and took him back? What if all the pain, all the suffering, just… melted away? What if Taekyun, having finally realized what he lost, swept Rinwoo up and took him away from the mountain, back to a life Beom Seok could never offer?
He was afraid Taekyun would make Rinwoo worse. But a secret, shameful part of him was also terrified that Taekyun might, somehow, make him better. And in doing so, take him away forever.
The two fears warred within him as he finally, quietly, slid Rinwoo's door open just a crack to peek inside. Rinwoo was still asleep, his breathing even. Beom Seok's heart clenched. He was protecting him from a monster, but he was also, he realized, guarding a hope he hadn't even known he'd been nurturing. He closed the door softly, the conflict now raging not just outside Rinwoo's room, but deep within Beom Seok's own heart.
The Lee estate dining room, usually a place of tense silence, was now a stage being set for a desperate performance. Mr. Lee paced at the head of the table, his impatience a palpable force.
"I don't care how you feel," he snapped at Taemin, who was slumped in a chair, looking pale and tired. "The Jeons and Nayeon are coming for dinner tonight. You will be presentable. You will be charming. You will apologize for your foolishness and you will convince that girl to reconsider this wedding. Do you understand me? The future of this family depends on it!"
Taemin stared blankly at the polished wood of the table, his father's words washing over him. His mind was miles away, in a sterile penthouse with Juwon. The idea of sitting through a formal dinner, of pretending to woo Nayeon, felt like a grotesque parody.
Daon had already escaped, citing an early meeting at the company. Eunjae, however, was trapped. He sat at the table, slowly sipping a cup of tea, his expression a mask of pure, unadulterated annoyance. Every word out of Mr. Lee's mouth was another brick in the wall of nonsense Eunjae was forced to endure.
He watched Taemin's defeated posture and felt a surge of protective anger. This wasn't about family or legacy; it was about one man's tyrannical control.
"Sir," Eunjae said, his voice deliberately calm, cutting through Mr. Lee's tirade. "Perhaps pressuring him like this isn't the best approach. If Nayeon refused, maybe we should respect her decision."
Mr. Lee stopped his pacing and turned a glacial glare on Eunjae. "Respect? This has nothing to do with respect. This is about correcting a mistake. Taemin's mistake. And you," he added, his voice dripping with disdain, "will stay silent and remember your place. Your role tonight is to be seen and not heard."
Eunjae's jaw tightened, but he held his tongue. Arguing was pointless. He met Taemin's eyes across the table, offering a small, sympathetic glance. It was a silent promise that he saw the absurdity, that he was on his side.
Taemin gave a barely perceptible nod, a flicker of gratitude in his exhausted eyes.
Taemin had heard enough. Every word from his father was a fresh weight on his already aching body. With a sharp, pained wince, he pushed himself up from the table. "I need to lie down," he muttered, not looking at either of them, and shuffled out of the dining room, leaving a void of tense silence in his wake.
Mr. Lee watched him go, his expression unreadable. He, too, made to leave, but as he passed Eunjae's chair, he stopped. He didn't turn around. He simply stood behind him, his presence looming like a dark cloud.
His voice, when he spoke, was a low, venomous whisper meant for Eunjae's ears alone.
"Last time," Mr. Lee began, his tone chillingly conversational, "it was a simple act. A fall. It was enough to turn Daon against you, if only for a moment." He paused, letting the memory of that betrayal sink in. "But that was a gentle warning."
Eunjae sat perfectly still, his knuckles white around his teacup, his blood running cold.
"This time," Mr. Lee continued, the whisper dropping even lower, becoming almost intimate in its menace, "if you so much as breathe a word of dissent tonight, if you try to 'help' Taemin in any way, I will not pretend. I will do something far, far worse. And I will make sure that it is Daon himself who throws you out of this house for good. He will be the one to end it. Do you understand me?"
Eunjae remained silent, his heart hammering.
"This is not a game of winning or losing, Eunjae," Mr. Lee said, his voice shifting to a tone of false, paternal concern that was more terrifying than the threat. "This is about Taemin's wellbeing. That curse is real. If he does not marry his fated match, it will kill him. I am trying to save my son's life. You would do well not to interfere with that."
With that final, hypocritical justification, Mr. Lee turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the vast room.
Eunjae was left alone at the grand table, the cold tea forgotten in front of him. The threat was clear and brutal. It wasn't just about exile; it was about being exiled by the man he loved, turned into a villain by the master manipulator.
Eunjae sat frozen long after Mr. Lee had left, the chilling threat and the cold logic behind it settling in his bones like a frost. He hated the man with every fiber of his being. He was a tyrant, a liar, and a master of emotional manipulation.
But buried beneath all that hatred was a single, terrifying grain of truth.
The curse.
If the curse was real—and every instinct told him it was—then Mr. Lee was right about one thing: Taemin's life could genuinely be in danger if he didn't marry Nayeon.
The thought made Eunjae's stomach clench. He loved Taemin like a brother. The idea of him suffering, or worse, because of this ancient family blight was unbearable.
But he won't marry her, Eunjae thought, despair washing over him. Not as long as Juwon is here.
That was the impossible equation. Taemin's safety was on one side, and his happiness—his very heart—was on the other. To save Taemin from the curse, Juwon would have to be removed from the picture. But to remove Juwon would be to destroy Taemin in a different way, crushing his spirit and breaking the beautiful, reckless love that made him who he was.
Eunjae dropped his head into his hands. He was trapped. Supporting Taemin and Juwon meant potentially condemning Taemin to the curse's wrath. But supporting the marriage to Nayeon meant betraying Taemin's trust and becoming an agent of the very oppression he hated.
For the first time, he understood Daon's paralysis completely. This wasn't a simple choice between right and wrong. It was a choice between two different kinds of devastation. And no matter which path he chose, someone he cared about would get hurt. The weight of the decision was crushing, and for a moment, Eunjae felt utterly, hopelessly alone.
The morning after the shattered glass and the whispered shadows should have been quiet. But for Rinwoo, it was suffocating.
He woke to find Master Hwang already in his room, silently placing a tray of tea and simple breakfast by his futon. The old man's eyes were heavy with a grief that made Rinwoo's stomach twist with guilt.
"You should eat, my boy," Master Hwang said, his voice unbearably gentle.
Before Rinwoo could even sit up properly, Beom Seok appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of forced cheerfulness that was more alarming than his previous worry. "Good morning! I've drawn a warm bath for you. And I'll be right outside if you need anything. Anything at all."
Every move Rinwoo made was watched. When he stood, Beom Seok was there, a hand hovering near his elbow as if he might collapse. When he walked to the bath, Master Hwang followed a few steps behind, his gaze fixed on him. When he tried to pick up a broom to sweep the courtyard—a simple, normal task that always grounded him—Beom Seok practically snatched it from his hands.
"No, no, you shouldn't strain yourself! I'll do it. You just rest."
They weren't just being kind. They were treating him like a priceless, cracked vase that might shatter at the slightest touch. Their constant, silent vigilance was a screaming reminder of the broken thing they had witnessed last night. It was a wall of love and fear that felt more like a prison.
At lunch, when Rinwoo reached for the water pitcher, both Master Hwang and Beom Seok's hands twitched, ready to jump in. Rinwoo's own hand froze mid-air. He slowly pulled it back and placed it in his lap.
The silence at the low table became heavy, laden with everything unsaid.
"You don't have to do this," Rinwoo whispered, his eyes fixed on his untouched bowl of rice.
Master Hwang and Beom Seok exchanged a quick, worried glance. "Do what, my child?" Master Hwang asked.
"This," Rinwoo said, his voice trembling slightly. He gestured weakly between them. "Watching my every breath. Treating me like I'm made of glass. It… it makes me feel worse."
He finally looked up, and the pain in his eyes wasn't from shadows or memories; it was from the present moment. "I already feel like a burden. Your kindness… it just reminds me how broken I am. Please… just let me be normal. Even if I'm not."
The plea hung in the air. Master Hwang's face fell, realizing their protectiveness was having the opposite effect. They were so focused on keeping him safe from himself that they were smothering the last fragments of his dignity. Their love, in its desperation, was making him feel even more like a patient, an invalid, a problem to be managed. And that feeling, for Rinwoo, was its own special kind of torment.
The knock on the penthouse door was soft, almost hesitant. Juwon, who had been pacing for what felt like hours, opened it to find Eunjae standing there. He looked tired, but composed.
"Eunjae-hyung," Juwon said, a wave of relief and anxiety washing over him. He stepped aside to let him in. "Is everything okay? Where's Taemin? Is he alright? Did he eat properly? He's not overdoing it, is he?" The questions tumbled out in a frantic rush.
Eunjae managed a small, patient smile. "He's resting. He's... as okay as he can be. He ate a little." He answered each question calmly, seeing the raw worry on Juwon's face.
Once they were seated in the living room, Eunjae's expression grew serious. "Juwon-ah, there's something I need to talk to you about."
Juwon's blood ran cold. The formal tone, the gravity in Eunjae's eyes—it could only mean bad news. "W-what is it?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Eunjae took a deep breath. "It's about the Lee family curse. You've heard of it, right?"
Juwon nodded slowly, confusion joining his fear. "Yeah... I've heard rumors. That the Lee family is cursed to only have sons."
Eunjae let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "That's just a story people tell. The real curse... is much worse." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "The curse is that the Lees, especially the sons, must marry the person fate has chosen for them. Their 'fated match'. If they don't... the curse will try to kill them."
Juwon froze, his mind reeling. "What? That's... that's not possible. How?"
"It is possible," Eunjae said, his voice soft but firm. He looked down at his hands. "Juwon-ah, look at me. Look at Daon. Do you think, in a normal world, someone like me—loud, messy, emotional—would ever marry someone as cold, disciplined, and perfect as Lee Daon?"
Juwon shook his head slowly. The two seemed like polar opposites.
"I was Daon's fated match," Eunjae revealed. "Before we married, the curse was destroying him. He was... fading. He almost died. Marrying me was the only thing that saved him."
He let that staggering truth hang in the air for a moment, allowing Juwon to process it. Then, he met Juwon's eyes, his own filled with a profound sadness.
"Juwon... Taemin... he also has a fated match."
The words landed like a death sentence. Juwon felt the air leave his lungs. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He had been fighting against a powerful family, a cruel father. But now, he was being told he was fighting against fate itself. And the price for losing that fight wasn't just a broken heart; it was Taemin's life.
Eunjae continued, his voice low and heavy with the weight of his message. He didn't sugarcoat it. He explained the generations of misery, the way the curse twisted lives, the very real danger that wasn't just a superstition but a palpable force that had nearly claimed Daon.
"And Taemin..." Eunjae's voice caught. "He knows all of this. He's known since he was a child. But when he looks at you, he doesn't see the curse. He only sees you."
He looked directly at Juwon, his eyes pleading for understanding. "He told Daon, point blank, that if the price of survival is betraying you, he'd rather die. He said those exact words, Juwon. He's not just being stubborn; he's made a choice. A choice to choose you over his own life."
Eunjae leaned forward, his expression grim. "As long as you are here, as long as he knows you're waiting for him, he will never marry Nayeon. He will defy his father, he will defy fate, and he will let the curse take him. Because his love for you is stronger than his instinct to survive."
The truth, laid out so starkly, was a devastating blow. Juwon felt the room spin. This wasn't just about their families' rivalry anymore. It wasn't even just about their love. It was about a fundamental, impossible choice.
Eunjae wasn't accusing him. He was presenting him with a horrific reality. "I'm not telling you this to make you leave," Eunjae said softly, though the implication hung in the air like a guillotine. "I'm telling you because you have a right to know what you're both really up against. It's not just my father-in-law you're fighting. It's something... ancient. And the stakes... they're final."
Juwon sat in stunned silence. The image of Taemin, bruised and broken but still joking, flashed in his mind. He thought of his defiance, his bravery. And now he understood the true cost of that bravery. Taemin was willing to die for him. The question now, burning in Juwon's soul, was whether he could live with being the reason for it.
Eunjae gave a final, somber nod and turned to leave. As he opened the penthouse door, he nearly collided with Mingyu, who was balancing two takeout bags of food.
"Oh! Eunjae Hyung!" Mingyu stammered, bowing quickly in surprise.
Eunjae offered a tight, weary smile. "Mingyu-ah. Take care of him," he said softly, with a glance back into the apartment before slipping out.
Mingyu stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His cheerful "Lunch is here!" died in his throat. Juwon was sitting perfectly still on the couch, his face ashen, his eyes wide and unblinking, staring at nothing. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
"Yah, Juwon? What's wrong?" Mingyu dropped the food on the kitchen counter and rushed over, kneeling in front of him. He shook Juwon's shoulder gently. "Hey! Talk to me. What did Eunjae say?"
Juwon's eyes slowly focused on Mingyu. His voice, when it came, was hollow. "The Lee family curse... Mingyu, do you know about it?"
Mingyu froze. The casual question felt like a bucket of ice water. This was the conversation he'd been dreading. He'd known about the curse for years, a dark secret he and Taemin had mostly joked about to mask its terrifying reality. He'd never seriously considered telling Juwon, hoping somehow it wouldn't become relevant.
He swallowed hard and nodded, his usual bravado gone. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I know about it."
Juwon's gaze intensified, desperate for confirmation. "Has Taemin... has he ever been in accidents? Before? Because of it?"
Mingyu looked away, the memory making him grimace. "Yeah," he said, his voice low. "When we were younger... it was weird. He'd be fine, then he'd just... have a streak of bad luck. A car would almost hit him when he was crossing the street. A heavy sign would fall right where he'd been standing seconds before. It wasn't constant, but it happened enough that we... we knew it wasn't a coincidence."
He looked back at Juwon, his expression deadly serious. "But then he met you. And it stopped. Completely. He became this carefree, happy idiot, and the 'bad luck' just vanished. I almost forgot about it." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "But the curse is real. It's been quiet because Taemin's been happy I guess .....But....."
Mingyu didn't need to finish the sentence. The implication was clear: the curse would return, and it would be more vengeful than ever. The terrifying truth Eunjae had delivered was now confirmed by Taemin's closest friend. Juwon wasn't just in a fight for love; he was in a battle against a supernatural force for Taemin's very life, and his presence in the equation was the catalyst for potential disaster. The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating and absolute.
The Lee estate's formal dining hall was a portrait of opulent tension. The long, polished table gleamed under the crystal chandelier. On one side sat Mr. Lee, with Eunjae and a visibly uncomfortable Taemin to his right. Across from them, Mr. Jeon and Nayeon made polite, strained conversation.
Mr. Lee, mastering the role of the concerned patriarch, steered the conversation with a smooth, practiced ease. "Mr. Jeon, Nayeon-ssi, we were all so delighted by the prospect of uniting our families. It's so important for the future. Might I ask… what caused this sudden change of heart? We were all taken by surprise."
Nayeon kept a polite smile on her face, but her eyes flickered with a hint of unease. Mr. Jeon chuckled, a bit awkwardly. "Ah, well, you know young people! She just changed her mind! Said she wants to go back abroad, continue her piano studies. She never really liked it here anyway, isn't that funny?" He said it as if it were a whimsical fancy, not a life-altering decision.
Mr. Lee's smile was tight. He turned his full attention to Nayeon, his voice dropping into a tone of grave sincerity. "Nayeon-ssi, please. Reconsider. This isn't just about a marriage. It's about Taemin's life. His wellbeing depends on it."
Throughout this, Taemin sat with his head bowed, pushing food around his plate. He looked pale and withdrawn, a stark contrast to the vibrant boy Nayeon remembered from their childhood. Eunjae watched him, his heart aching. He saw the pressure crushing Taemin, and he saw the genuine concern in Nayeon's eyes when she looked at him.
Nayeon's gaze softened as she looked at Taemin's defeated posture. She knew the real reason for her refusal, the secret he had entrusted her with. But seeing him like this, trapped and suffering, stirred her protective instincts.
She took a delicate sip of water, then met Mr. Lee's intense stare. "Well," she said, her voice sweet but firm, "if the matter is that urgent… and if Taemin-ssi is ready to proceed with the marriage…" She paused, letting her words hang in the air, a subtle challenge. "Then I am ready, too."
The effect was instantaneous. Mr. Lee's face lit up with triumphant relief. Mr. Jeon beamed, clapping his hands together. "Wonderful! See? It was just a little cold feet! Wonderful!"
But the statement was a carefully placed landmine. She hadn't agreed unconditionally. She had made her agreement contingent on Taemin's readiness. She had deftly passed the burden, and the power to refuse, directly back to him, all while appearing to acquiesce. She looked at Taemin, her eyes holding a silent message of solidarity. She had just given him a way out, if he was brave enough to take it. The ball was now, unmistakably, in his court, and the pressure on him had just multiplied tenfold.
The moment the words left Nayeon's mouth, placing the weight of the decision squarely on his shoulders, Taemin felt the walls of the dining room close in. The rich food threatened to come back up. The polite chatter became a deafening roar in his ears.
"Excuse me," he mumbled, his voice strained. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. He stood up, a sharp wince crossing his face as the movement tugged at his injuries.
Eunjae was on his feet instantly. "I'll help you," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He slipped an arm around Taemin, supporting him as they hurriedly left the oppressive atmosphere of the dining hall.
A moment later, Nayeon excused herself as well, offering a polite smile to the two fathers before following them out.
The three of them ended up in the hallway just outside Taemin's bedroom. Taemin was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, while Eunjae watched him with deep concern.
Nayeon approached slowly, her elegant dress swishing softly. "Taemin-ah," she said, her voice gentle. She waited until he looked at her. "I'm… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that in there. And I'm sorry for being stuck in the middle of… you and Juwon." Her cheeks flushed with genuine embarrassment. "It's not a place I ever wanted to be."
Taemin managed a weak, tired shake of his head. He saw the sincerity in her eyes—the eyes of his old friend, not a scheming rival. "It's not your fault, Nayeon," he said, his voice hoarse. "None of this is your fault. You were just… born into the wrong family, like me." He offered her a faint, sad smile. "You were always a good friend. Thank you for… for what you said in there."
He knew what she had done. By making her agreement conditional on his readiness, she had given him a semblance of control. It was a small act of rebellion, and he was grateful for it.
Nayeon nodded, her own eyes glistening. "Just… be happy, Taemin-ah. However you can." With a final, supportive glance at Eunjae, she turned and walked back down the hall, leaving the two brothers-in-law alone in the quiet corridor, united by their shared protection of a love that defied all the rules.
Once the bedroom door clicked shut, sealing them off from the world of expectations and business deals, the last shred of Taemin's composure shattered. The brave face he'd worn for Nayeon, the stoic silence he'd maintained under his father's gaze—it all collapsed.
A ragged, broken sob tore from his throat. His legs gave way, and he would have crumpled to the floor if Eunjae hadn't been there. Eunjae caught him, his own heart breaking at the sheer weight of the despair shaking Taemin's frame.
"Hey, it's okay… I've got you," Eunjae murmured, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. He didn't try to shush him or offer empty platitudes. He just held him, one arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders, letting him fall apart.
Taemin buried his face in his hands, his cries muffled and raw. "I can't do it, Hyung," he choked out between sobs. "I can't. Every time they say 'marriage'… I just see his face. I hear his voice. How am I supposed to… to promise my life to someone else when my heart belongs to him? It feels like a betrayal. It feels like dying."
Eunjae tightened his grip. "I know," he said softly, the words heavy with understanding. "I know it does."
"He's willing to die for me," Taemin wept, the truth of it overwhelming him anew. "And I'm supposed to just… marry Nayeon to save myself? What kind of person does that make me?"
"It makes you a person who's trapped," Eunjae said, his voice firm but gentle. "A person who's being forced into an impossible choice by a cruel fate and an even crueler father. It doesn't make you a bad person, Taemin-ah. It makes you a victim."
He let Taemin cry until the storm of sobs subsided into shaky, hiccupping breaths. The room was quiet save for Taemin's ragged breathing. The performance was over. In the privacy of his room, with only Eunjae as a witness, Taemin didn't have to be brave. He could just be terrified, heartbroken, and utterly lost. And Eunjae would sit with him in that darkness, a silent sentinel against the pressures threatening to crush him, for as long as it took.
The quiet clatter of dishes after dinner was the only sound in the shrine's kitchen. Despite Master Hwang and Beom Seok's subtle attempts to take over, Rinwoo insisted on washing up. The simple, methodical task was one of the few things that made him feel somewhat normal. As he placed the last clean bowl on the rack, his eyes drifted to the corner.
There, on a low shelf, sat the dark earthenware bottle of rice wine.
A thought, desperate and seductive, whispered in his mind. The nightmares, the shadows, the constant, grinding anxiety… maybe this could quiet it all. Just for a little while. Maybe it could bring a few hours of numb peace.
Without a word to the others, he grabbed the bottle and walked out into the cool night air of the courtyard. The moon was full, bathing the stone path and the ancient trees in a silvery light.
Beom Seok, who had been watching Rinwoo with a hawk's vigilance since the glass incident, saw him take the bottle. His heart sank. This was what they had wanted, wasn't it? For him to open up? But now that it was happening, it felt dangerous. He followed silently, hiding in the shadows of the walkway, ready to intervene if needed.
He watched as Rinwoo sat on a large, smooth stone in the center of the yard, uncorked the bottle, and took a long, deep swallow. He winced as the liquor burned its way down, then took another.
Unbeknownst to either of them, another pair of eyes was watching. Taekyun, confined to the guest room, had been driven nearly mad by his throbbing headache and the oppressive silence. Needing air, he had slipped out the back door of the shrine that led directly into the far end of the yard.
And then he saw him.
Rinwoo, sitting on the moonlit stone, his profile etched in silver. The bottle was in his hand, his head was tilted back slightly, and his expression was one of profound sadness, but in the gentle light, he was breathtakingly beautiful. The simple robes, the delicate line of his neck, the way the moonlight caught the faint sheen of tears or sweat on his temple—it was a vision of ethereal pain.
Taekyun froze, his own headache forgotten. He had come here to apologize, to beg for forgiveness for ruining this man. But seeing him like this, so vulnerable and yet so serene in his solitude, he felt an awe that bordered on reverence. He was a sinner gazing upon a saint he had defiled. He didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe, for fear of shattering the moment. He simply watched from the shadows, his heart aching with a love and regret so powerful it was a physical pain, content for now to just be in the same universe as Rinwoo, even if he remained a secret, unseen observer.