The tea in my hands had gone cold.
I hadn't touched it. I just sat there at the edge of the bed, staring at the steam that had long since disappeared, fingers trembling around the cup like it might burn me anyway. My reflection rippled faintly on the surface, pale and gaunt, eyes swollen from crying.
The door creaked open.
"Dohyun?" Jihwa's voice was careful, softer than usual. He stepped in carrying a tray—toast, fruit, more tea. The smell made my stomach twist.
"You should eat something," he said, setting the tray on the desk. "You didn't have dinner last night."
I shook my head quickly. "I can't."
Jihwa crossed the room and crouched in front of me. His eyes were tired, rimmed red like he hadn't slept either. "You have to keep your strength up. The trial—" He bit his lip, then changed course. "Even if it's just one bite. For me."
I stared down at him, throat tight. The words spilled out before I could stop them. "What if they don't believe me?"
He didn't hesitate. "They will."
"They'll think I let him. Maybe I did want it…just I..." My chest burned as shame rose up again, hot and suffocating.
"Stop." His voice cracked, sharp and fierce. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it hard enough to hurt. "Don't you dare say that about yourself. You never wanted it. You never asked for it. That monster twisted everything until you couldn't tell the truth from lies. But I can. And I'll keep telling you until you believe it too."
The tears came fast and ugly. I folded into him, hiding my face in his shoulder, shaking so badly the tea nearly spilled. His arms locked around me like a shield.
That's how Seojoon found us.
The door swung wider, his footsteps steady, his presence heavy. "He needs to practice," he said flatly.
"Dad—" Jihwa started, but Seojoon cut him a sharp look.
His gaze landed on me—not unkind, but stern enough to make me flinch. "The trial won't wait. If you want Hyok punished, Dohyun, you need to prepare."
My throat tightened. "I… I can't."
"Yes, you can." Seojoon dragged a chair to the desk, his voice firm but even. "Sit."
I hesitated, clutching Jihwa's sleeve like a child. Seojoon's eyes softened—just slightly. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to make sure he never does again. But you must learn to hold your ground. You told the police but I need to know as well.."
Slowly, reluctantly, I obeyed. My palms were already slick with sweat. Why do I need to tell him? I already told the police.
"Start from the beginning," Seojoon said. "Tell me what he did."
The words stuck in my throat. My chest seized, vision blurred. I could hear Hyok's whisper: Say it, or I'll make you.
"I—I can't," I stammered, shaking my head. "Not again. Please don't make me."
"You can," Seojoon said firmly. "And you must. Every word is a weapon against him. Don't give him the silence he's counting on."
Panic surged, my breath breaking apart. Jihwa caught my hand instantly, grounding me. "Breathe with me. In… out… You're safe, Dohyun. You're safe."
I forced myself to follow, the panic loosening its grip just enough to let the words out.
"He… he said I was weak. That no one else would ever want me. That I had to obey, or I'd be nothing or he'd hurt Hwan my cousin."
The words came out strangled, my throat raw, like dragging glass across skin. I couldn't look at either of them. My eyes stayed fixed on the desk, on the way my fingers twisted in my lap, nails biting into my palms.
Jihwa's grip tightened around my hand, warm and steady. "That was his lie, not the truth."
I shook my head violently. "No—you don't understand. I believed him. I… I thought maybe he was right. Every time I tried to fight, he reminded me I couldn't win. And when I stopped resisting—" My voice broke. "It felt like I proved him right."
The silence that followed was suffocating. My shame filled it, thick and choking, until I couldn't breathe.
Then Seojoon's voice cut through, calm but like iron. "Listen to me carefully, Dohyun. Submission under violence isn't proof of weakness. It's proof of survival."
I flinched at his tone, but he leaned forward, his eyes pinning me in place.
"He used fear to control you. You did what you had to do to live. That doesn't make you pathetic—it makes him a coward."
Coward.
The word didn't fit Hyok in my mind. Hyok was rage, power, heat—every step he took thundered through me, every word shaped my world. He had been everything. My master, my cage, my storm.
But coward?
The thought cracked something in me.
I started shaking, the tears burning again. "Why can't I stop hearing him? Even now, his voice—it's like it's stitched into me. I keep expecting him to walk in, to grab me, to say I'm his. And part of me—" My chest heaved, shame boiling over. "Part of me thinks maybe I still am."
"No." Jihwa's voice snapped sharp, desperate. He cupped my face with trembling hands, forcing me to meet his tear-bright eyes. "You're not his. Not anymore. You never should have been in the first place."
"But I—"
"You're Dohyun," he interrupted, his voice breaking. "You're not Park Hyok's property. You're not his creation. You're just… you. And that's enough."
His words hit me like a blow. My lips trembled, and I wanted to believe him, I wanted to—but the chains of Hyok's voice clanged louder in my head.
Seojoon leaned back slightly, studying me. His expression wasn't gentle like Jihwa's—it was steady, demanding. "Do you want him punished?"
I froze. The question stabbed through everything.
My lips parted, but no sound came.
"Do you?" he pressed.
My chest heaved. "…Yes."
"Then speak," Seojoon said firmly. "Every detail, every word, every bruise—those are the blades that will cut him down. Use them."
The air in the room tightened around me. My whole body screamed to shut down, to curl into silence. But Jihwa's hands still framed my face, his forehead pressed against mine now, whispering, "I've got you. You're not alone. Say it, Dohyun. Say it for you."
So I opened my mouth. And the nightmare came spilling out.
"I remember the first time he locked the door," I whispered, staring past them, into the shadows gathering at the edge of the room. "He said I should be grateful—that omegas like me didn't deserve attention unless someone claimed them. And then… he laughed."
The sound echoed in my head, cruel and sharp. I clutched my knees, nails digging into my skin. "I was shaking so bad. He pressed his hand to my throat and said, 'See? Even your body knows who you belong to.'"
Jihwa made a sound—something between a sob and a curse. His thumb stroked my cheek, but his voice shook. "Breathe, Dohyun. You're safe. Keep going if you can."
"I don't know if I can." My chest hitched.
"You can," Seojoon said. Not harsh this time, but firm like a wall behind me.
I forced the words out. "He kept me there for days sometimes. Wouldn't let me eat unless I begged for it. Wouldn't let me sleep unless—unless I…" My voice collapsed. "He wanted to watch me break."
The tears blurred everything. My body trembled so hard I thought I'd collapse.
Jihwa pulled me against him, rocking me, his own tears soaking my shoulder. "You don't have to finish if it hurts too much—"
"Yes, he does," Seojoon interrupted, his voice like stone. "The court won't accept half-truths. They'll try to twist his words, make him doubt himself. If he wants justice, he has to stand firm in the full truth. I won't let him walk into that trial unprepared."
I let out a broken laugh, shaking against Jihwa. "Justice…? Do you really think that's for me? People like him—they always win."
"Not this time," Seojoon said coldly. "Because this time, he picked the wrong omega to hurt."
My breath caught. "…Wrong omega?"
His eyes met mine. "Because this time, you have people on your side."
The room went still.
I stared at him, trembling, my tears dripping onto Jihwa's hand. Seojoon wasn't smiling. He wasn't soft. He wasn't comforting me the way Jihwa did.
But for the first time, I believed him.
Something fragile cracked open inside me, a thread of hope so small it almost hurt to feel it.
"Say it again," Jihwa whispered beside me, his voice thick with tears. "Say you want him punished. Out loud. Right now."
My lips trembled. I closed my eyes. Hyok's voice roared in my skull: You're mine. You'll never escape me.
But under it, I forced mine to rise.
"…I want him punished."
Jihwa squeezed me so hard it hurt. Seojoon nodded once, grim satisfaction in his eyes.
"Then that," he said, "is where we begin."
"I don't… I don't have anyone left," I whispered, my voice cracking so badly it barely sounded like me. "My mother died when I was a kid. My father—he jumped. Said he couldn't live without her. And after that, it was just me. My uncle took me in, but even he—" My throat closed up, shame choking me. "He sold me when I was thirteen so that all the debt was paid. Sold me like I was… like I was trash adding more burden in his family affairs. It's not fair!"
I tried holding back my tears. It was painful. The sting in my heart burns.
Jihwa's grip on my hand tightened so hard it almost hurt. "Dohyun…"
"I tried to survive. I tried to find something to hold onto. My cousin—Hwan—he's just a kid, he didn't deserve to lose me. He used to wait for me to come home and we cook and play all day. We had so much fun. And I loved him more than anything. But now—" My breath broke. "Now he'll grow up thinking I abandoned him too and eventually hate me."
The silence in the room was heavy, suffocating. For a moment, I almost wished no one would answer, because saying it aloud made the truth unbearable.
Then Jihwa snapped.
"Don't you dare." His voice was raw, shaking with fury. He dragged both my hands into his, forcing me to look at him even as my tears blurred his face. "Don't you dare say you're trash. Don't you dare believe you were meant to be thrown away. You didn't abandon anyone, Dohyun. They abandoned you."
I shook my head frantically, sobs tearing out of me. "But I—"
"No!" Jihwa's voice cracked, his own tears spilling now. "You are not broken. You are not disgusting. You are the bravest person I know. You've survived hell, and you're still here. And if you can't believe in yourself right now, then I'll believe for you. Every damn day, until you can see what I see."
His words tore something open inside me. The grief was unbearable, but it was the kind of unbearable that begged to be held, to be seen.
And then Seojoon spoke.
His tone was lower, steadier, carrying the weight of someone who rarely gave promises—but never broke them once he did. "Dohyun."
I forced myself to look at him through the blur of my tears.
"You've been carrying guilt that was never yours to carry," he said firmly. "Your mother's death. Your father's despair. Your uncle's betrayal. None of that belongs to you. You were a child. You deserved love. You deserved safety. And Hyok—" His jaw tightened, fury flashing in his eyes. "What he did to you was not love. It was a crime. And I swear to you, as long as I draw breath, he will never touch you again."
Something in his voice—the absolute certainty—struck through my fear like a blade. I broke down completely, shoulders shaking as sobs wracked my chest.
Jihwa pulled me against him, clutching me like I might disappear. Seojoon's hand settled on my back, heavy and grounding, a promise in the warmth of his touch.
Through my tears, the words slipped out, fragile and aching: "If you promise… then maybe… maybe I can live long enough to just see Hwan again."
Jihwa buried his face in my hair, whispering fiercely, "You will. I swear it. I'll get you back to him."
And Seojoon's voice, steady as stone, sealed the vow. "You'll see him again, Dohyun. And when you do, it'll be as someone free. Not as Hyok's prisoner, but as yourself."
For the first time in years, I let myself cry without shame. Not from terror, not from pain—but from the desperate, impossible hope that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't alone anymore.
And Jihwa by my side holding me into his embrace and shining like a star with his smile so gorgeous.