The rice wine was doing its work, blurring the sharp edges of Rinwoo's pain and weaving a soft, hazy fog through his mind. He took another swig, the liquid warmth spreading through his chest, a poor substitute for the peace he craved. He barely noticed the figure watching him from the deep shadows at the far end of the yard.
Taekyun stood transfixed, his own suffering eclipsed by the poignant beauty of the scene. Overwhelmed, he leaned back to steady himself against the shrine wall, but his coordination failed him. His foot slipped on a loose stone, and he stumbled forward with a sharp, involuntary grunt and the scuff of a shoe on gravel.
The sound was small, but in the utter silence of the mountain night, it was as loud as a gunshot to Rinwoo's alcohol-heightened senses.
His head snapped toward the noise. His heart, which had been beating a slow, drunken rhythm, suddenly hammered against his ribs. There, in the shadows, was a tall, broad-shouldered figure. The moonlight caught just enough—the height, the posture—to sear a familiar, painful image onto Rinwoo's vulnerable mind.
"T-Taekyun...?" The name escaped his lips in a low, trembling whisper. His whole body began to shake, the bottle almost slipping from his numb fingers. He squinted, trying to force the blurry vision to clear, to confirm if the ghost that haunted his dreams was now standing in front of him.
Panic seized Taekyun. This was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to be seen, not like this, not when Rinwoo was in this state. Before Rinwoo's vision could focus, Taekyun turned and hid himself behind the wall.
But the damage was done.
Seeing the figure disappear, Rinwoo let out a soft, broken sound. At that moment, Beom Seok, who had been watching the entire exchange with a sinking heart, rushed forward.
"Rinwoo!" Beom Seok called, reaching him just as Rinwoo's legs seemed to give way.
Rinwoo stumbled into Beom Seok's arms, his body limp and pliant from the alcohol and the shock. He buried his face in Beom Seok's chest, his trembling hands clutching at the fabric of his robe.
"Taekyun..." Rinwoo murmured, his voice a soft, slurred plea, thick with tears and wine. He looked up, his glassy, unfocused eyes seeing not Beom Seok, but the phantom he longed for. "You came back... I knew you'd come back..."
He nuzzled against Beom Seok's chest, completely mistaking him for the husband who had caused him so much pain. "Don't go... please don't go away again..."
Beom Seok held him tightly, his own heart breaking into a thousand pieces. He looked over Rinwoo's shoulder toward the empty darkness where Taekyun had vanished, a wave of pure, unadulterated hatred washing over him. The man had caused this devastation, and even in his absence, his ghost continued to torture the one person Beom Seok loved most.
At lee estate
The door to their bedroom opened with a soft, weary sigh. Daon stepped inside, looking more drained than Eunjae had ever seen him. His shoulders were slumped, his usually sharp eyes shadowed and dull. The weight of the company, now missing its primary heir, was visibly crushing him.
Eunjae, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed waiting, immediately stood up. Wordlessly, he went to Daon and began to help him. He gently slid the expensive suit jacket from his shoulders, his fingers then moving to loosen the constricting tie, pulling it free from his collar.
Freed from the formal constraints, Daon seemed to deflate. He didn't speak. Instead, he leaned forward, his body heavy with exhaustion, and buried his face in the crook of Eunjae's neck. He nuzzled deeper, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his husband as if it were the only oxygen in the room.
Eunjae's arms came around him, one hand stroking his back in slow, soothing circles. They stood like that for a long moment, two pillars holding each other up in a house that was constantly trying to collapse.
"Today was..." Eunjae began softly, his voice a quiet murmur against Daon's ear. He started to recount the events—the tense dinner with the Jeons, Nayeon's conditional agreement, Taemin's subsequent breakdown, the ever-present threat from Mr. Lee.
But as he spoke, listing each new crisis, the dam holding back his own composure finally broke. His voice hitched, then cracked.
"...and I'm just so tired, Daon," Eunjae confessed, a sob tearing from his throat. He clung to his husband, his own exhaustion pouring out. "I'm tired of seeing Taemin in so much pain. I'm tired of worrying about Rinwoo all alone on that mountain. I'm tired of your father looking at me like I'm dirt he can't wait to scrape off his shoe. And now this... this awful wedding hanging over everything like a death sentence."
He pulled back slightly, his tear-filled eyes searching Daon's. "Why does it never stop? Why do we never get any time for just... us? Why do you have to work until you're a ghost? Why do you never rest?"
It was a cry from the heart, a lament for the normal life they were never allowed to have. In that moment, he wasn't just complaining about the family's drama; he was mourning the simple, quiet intimacy that was constantly stolen from them by the Lee family's curses, expectations, and endless cycles of pain. He was begging for a moment of peace, for a sign that Daon was still his, and not just a resource to be drained by the relentless demands of his name.
Eunjae looked up, his vision blurred by tears, his heart raw and exposed. "Daon," he whispered, his voice cracking with desperation. "Can't we just... run away? Just the two of us. Somewhere far from this hell. Away from the drama, the curses, the company... just a simple life. Please."
The plea hung in the air, a beautiful, impossible fantasy.
Daon froze. He pulled back, his own exhaustion momentarily eclipsed by sheer disbelief. He looked at Eunjae as if he were speaking a foreign language.
"Run away?" Daon repeated, his voice low and strained. "How can you say that? How can you be so selfish? Can't you see everything is falling apart? Taekyun is gone. Taemin is on the verge of being destroyed by this... this thing with Juwon. My father is barely holding on. And you want us to just leave? Abandon everyone?"
Eunjae shook his head frantically, more tears falling. "I don't know! I just... I can't do this anymore! I love you, Daon! I can't stand watching you be a puppet, doing everything your father wants, working yourself into the ground like a machine! Don't you ever get tired of it? Don't you want to be free?" His voice rose, fueled by a pain that had been festering for months. "Can't we just leave them to handle their own matters? Taemin isn't a kid! He knows what he's doing! Let him be!"
That was the final straw. The word "let" ignited something in Daon. All the fear for his brother, the pressure of his responsibilities, the terror of his family's collapse, exploded.
"Let him be?!" Daon's voice snapped like a whip, sharp and cold. He took a step back, his eyes blazing with a fury Eunjae had never seen directed at him. "What, should we just let him die? Let him throw his life away loving that Park Juwon, ignoring the curse, ignoring everything? Is that what you want, Eunjae?"
He stared at his husband, his chest heaving. The accusation was brutal, unfair, and born of pure panic.
"You've become selfish," Daon spat, the words meant to wound.
With that, he turned on his heel and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut with a force that shook the wall. The sound was a physical blow, echoing the chasm that had just been torn open between them. Eunjae stood alone in the middle of their bedroom, the echo of the slam ringing in his ears, the word "selfish" carving a fresh wound directly into his heart. He had begged for an escape, for a life with the man he loved, and in return, he had been accused of wanting his brother-in-law dead. The gulf between their realities had never felt wider, or more hopeless.
The scene in the moonlit shrine yard was a heartbreaking pantomime of mistaken identity and raw, unfiltered pain. Beom Seok held Rinwoo tightly, his own body rigid with a mixture of heartbreak and boiling rage. Rinwoo, lost in an alcoholic haze and emotional devastation, looked up at him. In the dim light, his glassy eyes saw only the man who haunted his every waking and sleeping moment.
A fragile, tear-streaked smile touched Rinwoo's lips. "You're here…" he slurred, his voice full of a desperate, hopeful wonder. "You're here to take me back, right? Taekyun?"
He clutched at Beom Seok's robes, his fingers trembling. "Why did you take so long?" he whimpered, the words dissolving into a sob. "I've been waiting for you… my mind is killing me. Something is wrong with my head. I keep hearing your voice… telling me to die."
He looked up, his expression pleading, begging for denial. "You didn't mean that, right? You love me, right? I know you left that woman, Yuna… right? You'll love me this time? You'll love me properly?"
The questions were a torrent, each one a shard of the broken trust and shattered self-worth Taekyun had left behind.
"I love you, Taekyun," Rinwoo cried, burying his face in Beom Seok's chest as if it were a sanctuary. "I love you. I love you so much."
Beom Seok's jaw was clenched so tight it ached. He could feel the heat of his anger rising, a white-hot fury directed at the man hiding in the shadows. He tried to speak, to shatter the illusion. "Rinwoo, I'm not—"
But Rinwoo wasn't listening. He was lost in his delusion, pouring out two years of lonely, aching love to the wrong person.
And just out of sight, pressed against the cold, rough wood of the shrine wall, Taekyun watched. Every word from Rinwoo's lips was a dagger twisting in his gut. He saw the devastating love, the profound confusion, the terrifying admission of auditory hallucinations—his voice, telling Rinwoo to die. The guilt was a physical force, nausea rising in his throat.
His every instinct screamed at him to run forward, to sweep Rinwoo into his arms, to kiss his tears and swear that he did love him, that he was here now, that he would never leave again.
But he was frozen. He saw the rigid line of Beom Seok's back, the protective, furious way he held Rinwoo. To reveal himself now, in Rinwoo's current state, would be cruel and potentially dangerous. He was the monster in this story, and monsters didn't get to offer comfort. So he remained in the darkness, a ghost at his own tragedy, forced to watch the consequences of his cruelty play out in the arms of another man, each whispered "I love you" feeling like a sentence to a hell of his own making.
The world narrowed to the moonlit courtyard and the man trembling in his arms. Rinwoo's tears had softened into quiet, hiccupping breaths. Then, slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes, clouded with alcohol and delusion, were fixed on Beom Seok's face with an intense, heartbreaking focus.
Confused, Beom Seok held him tighter, his hands firm on Rinwoo's slender waist to keep him steady. "Rinwoo, what are you—?"
He never finished the sentence.
Rinwoo rose unsteadily onto his tiptoes, bridging the small difference in their height. Before Beom Seok could process what was happening, Rinwoo's lips were pressed against his own.
Beom Seok froze.
Every moral fiber in his being screamed. This is wrong. He doesn't know it's me. He thinks I'm him. Push him away. Tell him. Now.
But his body betrayed him. The feel of Rinwoo's lips, soft and hesitant against his, sent a jolt of lightning through his system. This was the man he had secretly adored for so long, the one he worried over, protected, and loved with a quiet, desperate fervor. And now, he was in his arms, kissing him.
The kiss was clumsy, untutored, clearly Rinwoo's first. It was the kiss of someone who had never been shown affection, only neglect. And in that clumsiness, Beom Seok saw the depth of Rinwoo's loneliness and his desperate, misguided attempt to reconnect with the ghost of his husband.
The war inside Beom Seok was brief and brutally one-sided. Greed won. The desire to be the one Rinwoo kissed, the one he adored, even under the veil of a cruel misunderstanding, was too powerful to resist.
His hands, which had been holding Rinwoo steady, shifted. One slid up to cradle the back of Rinwoo's head, his fingers tangling in the soft hair. The other arm wrapped more possessively around his waist. He stopped being a passive recipient and began to guide the kiss, softening the clumsy pressure, tilting his head to find a better angle, settling into a slow, deep, and heartbreakingly correct rhythm.
He kissed Rinwoo with all the love and passion he had ever secretly held, knowing it was a stolen moment, a lie, and a betrayal of the trust Rinwoo would have if he were in his right mind. But for those few stolen seconds, in the silent moonlight, he let himself pretend. He was no longer just the friend in the shadows. He was the one being loved, and in his greed, he clung to the beautiful, painful illusion.
The sight was too much to bear. The moonlight, the tender way Beom Seok held Rinwoo, the kiss—a kiss that should have been his to receive, to cherish, to deserve. It shattered the last vestiges of Taekyun's control.
With a guttural roar that tore through the peaceful night, he erupted from the shadows. He crossed the yard in three long strides, his movements a blur of pure rage. He didn't see Beom Seok; he saw a thief stealing what was his.
He grabbed Beom Seok by the shoulder, yanking him backward with brutal force. The sudden movement broke the kiss and sent Rinwoo stumbling. With a soft cry of confusion, Rinwoo fell to his knees on the hard stone, dazed and disoriented.
"You bastard!" Taekyun snarled, his fist connecting with Beom Seok's jaw with a sickening crack. "How dare you touch him! How dare you lay a finger on him!"
Beom Seok staggered back, more out of shock than the force of the blow. He raised his hands, not to fight back, but to defend himself. "Taekyun, stop! It's not what you think—!"
"It's exactly what I think!" Taekyun screamed, his voice raw and broken. He lunged again, tackling Beom Seok to the ground. He landed on top of him, pinning him down, and drove his fist into his face again. "You're taking advantage of him! He's sick! He doesn't know what he's doing! You're a vile, disgusting—!"
"AND WHAT ARE YOU?!" Beom Seok finally roared back, the dam of his own anger and resentment breaking. The sight of Rinwoo falling, combined with two years of watching him suffer, unleashed a fury he didn't know he possessed. He bucked violently, using his strength to throw Taekyun off. In an instant, their positions were reversed, Beom Seok now on top, pinning Taekyun down.
His fist slammed into Taekyun's face, once, twice. "WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!" he bellowed, each word a hammer blow. "You had him for two years! Two years to love him! Two years to see how precious he is! And all you did was break him! You shattered him into a thousand pieces!"
He hit him again, tears of rage mixing with the blood on his knuckles. "You left him! You threw him away like he was nothing! So why now?! Why come back now to ruin the little peace he's managed to find?!"
Taekyun struggled beneath him, his own face a mask of blood and agony. "He's my husband!"
"HE WAS YOUR HUSBAND!" Beom Seok screamed, his voice cracking. "You lost the right to call him that when you let that other woman touch you! When you let him cry himself to sleep every night! When you made him feel so worthless that he hears your voice in his head telling him to DIE!"
The truth, screamed into the night, was more brutal than any punch. Beom Seok leaned down, his face inches from Taekyun's, his breath coming in ragged sobs. "I have held him while he cried. I have cleaned up his blood. I have listened to him beg for a ghost to love him! Where were you?! WHERE WERE YOU THEN?!"
He drew his fist back again, his entire body trembling with a pain that had been festering for years. "You don't get to come back here and play the jealous husband. You don't get to hurt him all over again. Just leave! Why can't you just leave him alone?!"
The fight was no longer about a kiss. It was a violent, bloody catharsis for all the pain, neglect, and silent suffering that had festered within the shrine's walls, finally erupting under the cold, uncaring moon.
The sound of raw, screaming fury shattered the shrine's sacred silence. Master Hwang, jolted from his sleep, rushed outside, his heart pounding with a dread he hadn't felt in decades. The scene before him was one of pure chaos: Taekyun and Beom Seok, both bloody and bruised, rolling on the ground, their fists flying, their voices torn with venomous shouts.
"Enough!" Master Hwang's voice, though aged, carried the force of a thunderclap.
He moved with a speed that belied his years, grabbing Beom Seok by the shoulders and pulling him off a dazed Taekyun. But Beom Seok was lost in a red haze of rage and heartbreak.
"He has no right! He has NO RIGHT!" Beom Seok screamed, trying to shove past the old monk, his eyes wild and fixed on Taekyun. "After everything he did! Why is he here?!"
"Beom Seok! Control yourself!" Master Hwang commanded, but his disciple was beyond reason.
Seeing no other way to break through the hysteria, Master Hwang's hand shot out, the sharp crack of his slap echoing in the sudden silence. "I said ENOUGH!" he yelled, his own voice trembling with a mixture of anger and profound disappointment.
Beom Seok staggered back, his hand flying to his stinging cheek. He looked at Master Hwang, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal, the fight draining out of him to be replaced by a crushing hurt. He opened his mouth to protest, to explain, but the words died in his throat.
"Go back inside. Now," Master Hwang ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Beom Seok's gaze flickered over to Rinwoo, who was still crumpled on his knees, barely conscious, a bruise already forming on his arm from his fall. His heart ached to go to him, to be the one to care for him.
"I'll tend to him," Master Hwang said firmly, intercepting his look. "You. Inside."
With a jaw clenched so tight it felt like it might crack, Beom Seok turned and stalked back into the shrine, the slam of the door a punctuation to his fury and shame.
Master Hwang then turned his fiery gaze to Taekyun, who was slowly pushing himself to his feet, wiping blood from his lip. "You," the old monk said, his voice cold. "I told you to stay away. Why are you here causing trouble the moment my back is turned?"
Taekyun hung his head, too ashamed to recount the scene that had driven him to violence. "I apologize, Master Hwang. It will not happen again."
He took a hesitant step toward the slumped form of Rinwoo, his every instinct screaming to gather him into his arms.
"Stop," Master Hwang's voice was like iron. "Do not touch him. You have forfeited that right. Go back to your room. If I see you near him again without my express permission, I will throw you out of this shrine myself. Do you understand?"
Defeated, Taekyun bowed deeply. "I understand." With one last, agonized look at Rinwoo, he turned and retreated into the shrine, leaving Master Hwang alone in the courtyard with the broken pieces of the three young men he was trying, and failing, to protect.
With a heavy sigh, the old monk bent down, gently wrapping Rinwoo's arm around his own shoulders. "Oh, my child," he whispered to the unconscious boy. "What has this world done to you?" He half-dragged, half-carried Rinwoo back inside, the weight of the night's events feeling heavier than the boy in his arms. The peace of the mountain had been utterly destroyed.
The first, pale hint of dawn had yet to touch the sky when Taemin's phone erupted into a violent buzz on his nightstand. He'd barely slept, his body a symphony of aches and his mind a prison of anxious thoughts. He grabbed the phone with a grunt of annoyance.
"Mingyu, what? It's the middle of the night," he slurred, his voice thick with exhaustion.
"Taemin—" Mingyu's voice was frantic, punctuated by heavy, panicked breaths. "I can't— I can't control him anymore! He's… he's trying to leave! He says he's going back to the Park estate. You need to get here, now! Before it's too late!"
Every trace of sleep vanished from Taemin's body. A cold, sharp terror pierced through the fog of his pain. Back to the Park estate? After everything? It was a suicide mission.
"I'm on my way," Taemiin said, his voice suddenly clear and sharp. He ended the call and threw the covers back, ignoring the fiery protest from his ribs as he swung his legs out of bed. He didn't bother changing out of his sleep clothes. He just grabbed his leather jacket, wincing as he shoved his arms through the sleeves, and snatched his keys.
He took the back stairs, moving as quickly as his battered body would allow, and burst out into the cold, pre-dawn air. His motorcycle was parked nearby. Ignoring the screaming pain in his muscles, he swung a leg over the bike, jammed the key into the ignition, and kicked the engine to life.
The roar of the motor shattered the quiet of the Lee estate. He didn't care who he woke. He twisted the throttle and sped out onto the empty, dark streets, the wind whipping at his hair and clothes. The city was a blur of sleeping buildings and lonely streetlights as he weaved through the roads, his only thought a desperate, repeating mantra: Juwon, you idiot. Don't you dare. Don't you dare go back there. Wait for me.
The penthouse was steeped in the tense quiet of the very early morning. Juwon sat on the edge of the couch, his posture stiff, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the floor. Mingyu stood guard near him, arms crossed, looking like a very tired but determined sentinel.
"Why did you have to wake up so early?" Juwon asked, his voice flat and drained.
Mingyu managed a tired, proud smirk. "Who said I slept? I've been on night watch duty, making sure a certain idiot doesn't do anything stupid."
Juwon sighed, finally looking at him. "You didn't have to call Taemin. Why trouble him? He needs to rest."
"Because," Mingyu said, his smirk fading into a serious frown, "you don't get to make a decision this big on your own. Not about him. You two need to talk before you go and… do whatever martyr-like thing you're planning."
Juwon opened his mouth, the words poised on his tongue—the painful, noble speech about letting Taemin go to save him from the curse, about his love being a death sentence. He was ready to break his own heart to keep Taemin safe.
But before a single syllable could escape, the sharp, insistent ring of the doorbell sliced through the apartment.
Mingyu's eyes widened. "That was fast." He hurried to the door and yanked it open.
There, leaning heavily against the doorframe, was Taemin. He was breathing in ragged, heaving gasps, his face pale and sheened with a cold sweat. He was still in his sleep pants and a thin t-shirt, with a leather jacket thrown hastily over them. His hair was a wild mess, and every line of his body screamed of pain and frantic exertion.
Seeing him like that, Juwon shot up from the couch, all thoughts of self-sacrifice vanishing in a wave of pure, unadulterated concern. "Taemin! What are you—? You shouldn't be here! You shouldn't be riding in your condition!"
The grand, tragic exit was forgotten. The only thing that mattered was the battered, breathless boy who had just raced across the city for him.
Taemin stumbled into the penthouse, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. A pained, reckless chuckle escaped him as he closed the distance between them. Ignoring his own injuries and Juwon's shocked expression, he grabbed the back of Juwon's neck and pulled him into a deep, bruising, desperate kiss. It was a kiss meant to brand, to claim, to silence the world and its terrible choices.
Juwon's hands came up, not to embrace him, but to push against his chest. "Taemin, stop—" he managed, his voice muffled against the other boy's lips.
Taemin broke the kiss, his eyes blazing with a mixture of physical pain and raw hurt. "What?" he panted, his grip tightening on Juwon's nape. "Planning to leave already? Just because I'm a little banged up and can't give you satisfaction for a few days? Is that it?"
The vulgar, self-deprecating joke, meant to deflect from his own terror, was the final straw for Juwon. All the fear, the helplessness, the looming specter of the curse, exploded.
SLAP.
The sound was sharp and shocking in the quiet room.
Juwon's hand stung. Taemin's head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on his cheek. He stared at Juwon, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock.
"Why?" Juwon's voice was a low, trembling roar. "Why are you always joking?! Huh? Do you think our life is a joke? Do you think the wedding, the curse, everything that's happening in your house right now is some kind of funny game?!"
The word "wedding" landed like a physical blow. Taemin's bravado vanished. How did he know? His head whipped around, his furious, betrayed gaze landing on Mingyu. "You... you told him?"
Mingyu immediately threw his hands up in surrender, his expression a perfect picture of offended innocence. "Whoa! I'm loyal to you, my darling! I would never! I have no idea what he's talking about!"
The denial was so swift and dramatic it was almost convincing. But the truth was out. Juwon knew. And the pain in Juwon's eyes wasn't just about the secret; it was the agony of a man who had been handed an impossible choice and was being met with flippant jokes instead of the shared desperation he was drowning in. The playful facade had finally cracked, revealing the terrifying, high-stakes reality beneath.