Author's Note:
Hi everyone! đź’›I just wanted to quickly apologize for the mix-up in the previous upload. The chapter that was posted as Chapter 33 was actually meant to be Chapter 34. I've gone ahead and republished it under the correct chapter number now to keep everything in order.
So sorry for the confusion, and thank you so much for your understanding and patience. Your support means the world to me, and I hope you're still enjoying the story despite the hiccup! 🥺✨
Much love,—MidnightCaesar
Eighteen years ago...…
Seo-Joon trudged back to the mansion, his footsteps slow and deliberate as the snow continued to fall in heavy sheets, blanketing him in its cold embrace. His clothes were soaked through, the snow clinging to his hair, his shoulders, his entire body trembling—not just from the freezing cold, but from the storm raging inside him. The weight of grief, anger, and guilt bore down on him, each step an effort as his mind replayed the image of Seung-Ah, her lifeless body, her blood on his hands. His chest felt tight, his heart a jagged mess of emotions he couldn't untangle.
His face was a grimace of devastation, the rawness of his grief evident in the red veins that ran beneath his eyes, the remnants of tears still streaking his cold cheeks. His expression was a twisted mix of anger and stress, the weight of it all pressing on him, suffocating him as he walked through the front doors of the mansion. Each step felt heavier, as if the building itself was closing in on him, a constant reminder of everything he had lost, everything that had been taken from him.
The grand halls of the mansion felt eerily silent as he walked through them, the only sound the crunch of his footsteps in the snow that had followed him inside. His hands, still trembling, clenched into fists by his sides as he passed through the familiar corridors. His eyes burned with the sting of tears he couldn't shed anymore, the pain too much to bear. His body felt as if it was shutting down, the cold seeping deeper into his bones, but it was the fire of anger inside him that kept him moving.
His feet led him towards the study, the one place in the house where he had once sought solace, the one place where his father had always been. But now, the thought of his father—his so-called 'parent'—only fueled the flames of his resentment. The door to the study was before him now, and he stopped just short of it, his chest rising and falling sharply as he took in a ragged breath.
He was so close to the one person who had caused it all. His fingers, numb from the cold, wrapped around the handle of the door, and with a sudden burst of force, he swung it open. The cold air from the hallway rushed in, but it was nothing compared to the fury burning in his chest as he stepped into the study, his mind clouded with the urge to confront, to demand answers and explanations.
"Oh, you're back." The Chairman's voice was calm, though his eyes never left Seo-Joon. There was no hint of guilt in his gaze, only a cold assessment. He sensed that Seo-Joon knew the truth, that he wasn't ignorant of what had happened, but he still wanted to see if his son had the courage to confront him.
"Father," Seo-Joon replied, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of unshed emotion. He stepped forward, his eyes locked on his father as he approached the desk.
"Aren't you old enough to take care of yourself in the snow? Look at you." The Chairman scoffed, rising from his seat as he walked toward Seo-Joon, his words sharp and disdainful. As he reached his son's side, he shot him a side-eyed glance, his voice cutting through the air. "Get yourself together. You've just proven that you are a failure. Is this really how the heir of this family should present himself? I don't think you deserve that title anymore." His words were cold, each one striking deeper than the last, as if the Chairman meant to wound and humiliate him.
Seo-Joon stood frozen, the weight of his father's words sinking into him like a dagger to his heart. His fists clenched at his sides, his body trembling, but he remained silent, the anger and hurt too much to express in words.
The Chairman walked away without a second glance, his movements deliberate, almost measured. As he reached the door to the study, he paused and looked back over his shoulder, his expression one of cold finality. "I hope you've learned your lesson from the game I never allowed you to play, Seo-Joon," he said, his voice laced with scorn. Then, with a sharp motion, he slammed the door behind him, leaving Seo-Joon standing alone in the study, the silence now deafening.
"Just wait, Father. All of you are going to pay in due time. "Seo-Joon murmured, his voice low and laced with barely contained anger. His jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white from the pressure. The curse that followed his words was laced with frustration, the weight of betrayal seeping into his tone. His chest heaved with a mix of rage and helplessness, the anger boiling just beneath the surface, threatening to explode.
***
The room reeked of stale alcohol and despair as Secretary Choi hesitated outside Seo-Joon's door. It had been three days since the young master returned to the estate. Three days of complete isolation, the door locked, and any interaction reduced to meals left outside untouched or thrown aside in fits of rage. Even the maids avoided lingering near his door, terrified of his volatile mood.
But Secretary Choi knew it couldn't go on. This time, he resolved to push through the storm.
"Young Master," Secretary Choi said firmly as he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
The room was dimly lit, cluttered with bottles and shattered objects. Before Secretary Choi could utter another word, Seo-Joon's hand seized a nearby chair and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the wall, narrowly missing the secretary.
"I said I don't want anyone entering my room!" Seo-Joon roared, his voice hoarse from days of grief and drinking. His chest heaved as he glared, anger radiating from every inch of him.Â
Secretary Choi didn't flinch, though his breaths grew shallow. He took a step closer, his posture steady despite the suffocating tension.
"But Young Master," he began gently, "how long are you going to do this to yourself?"
Seo-Joon's eyes burned with fury. "How dare you lecture me! You don't know how I grieve—you're not in my position!"
Secretary Choi's voice remained calm, though a flicker of emotion passed through his eyes. "But I've been with you your entire life, Young Master. I've seen everything. I understand more than you think."
"I don't trust anyone now," Seo-Joon snapped, his voice trembling, both a challenge and a confession.
Without a word, Secretary Choi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. He held it out to Seo-Joon.
Seo - Joon eyes narrowed as recognition dawned, and then shock overtook him. Trembling, Seo-Joon lunged forward, gripping Choi by the collar.
"How do you know about him?" Seo-Joon's voice cracked, his rage masking a deep, vulnerable fear. "Don't you dare... don't you dare involve him!"
Secretary Choi remained composed, his hands raised in surrender. "Young Master, I'm not your enemy. I brought this to show you that you can trust me."
Seo-Joon's grip faltered. His hands fell away, and his knees buckled as if the weight of his grief finally pulled him to the floor. His palms slammed against the cold tiles, his head bowing so low it almost touched the ground.
"Please," Seo-Joon whispered, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. "Leave him alone. He's just two years old... the only piece of Seung-Ah I have left."
Secretary Choi knelt beside him, his movements deliberate and careful. From the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a passport and a plane ticket. Gently, he placed them on the floor beside Seo-Joon.
"Young Master," he said, his voice low but steady. "For now, you need to follow your father's orders. Yes, he is still investigating and has asked me to dig further into Seung-Ah, but I haven't given him the answers he's looking for. I know it's hard to trust me, but I made a promise—to your mother. Before she passed, she entrusted me with your safety. My family owes her everything, and she was my closest friend. I'm not your enemy. I'm trying to protect you and your son."
Seo-Joon looked up, his swollen eyes filled with doubt and pain. His hands shook as he rubbed them over his face, trying to process everything. His breath came in uneven gasps, his head spinning under the weight of the decision.
"If I leave..." Seo-Joon swallowed hard, his voice barely audible, "when should I go?"
"In two weeks," Secretary Choi replied gently. "I'll take care of everything for your son. He'll soon follow you to America."
Seo-Joon exhaled shakily and nodded, his silent agreement a small surrender in the face of overwhelming grief.
***
Two weeks later, the day of Seo-Joon's departure for America arrived. The house buzzed with activity as maids hurriedly carried his luggage to the waiting car. Seo-Joon, however, remained impassive, his expression a cold mask of suppressed anger and grief. He refused to say goodbye to his father, and true to form, Chairman Han didn't bother stepping outside to bid him farewell either.
Standing on the porch, Seo-Joon took one last glance at the sprawling estate he had once called home. The cold morning air felt heavy, matching the weight in his chest. His eyes roamed over the surroundings until they stopped at the garden. There, his gaze locked onto an unexpected and infuriating sight—Youn-Jae, sitting at a garden table, engrossed in a book, with Mr. Kim standing nearby like a silent sentinel.
A spark of rage ignited within Seo-Joon, and he stormed toward them, his blood boiling with disbelief. The very son of the man who had murdered Seung-Ah was here. The betrayal cut deeper than he could bear. How could his father allow this? Was his life nothing but a cruel joke?
Mr. Kim noticed Seo-Joon's approach and quickly moved to intercept him before he reached Youn-Jae. Standing firmly in Seo-Joon's path, he spoke calmly but firmly. "Young Master, you'll be late for your flight. Please head to the car now."
"What is he doing here?" Seo-Joon growled, his voice laced with venom, his eyes locked on Youn-Jae with unrestrained fury.
"Your father has adopted him," Mr. Kim replied evenly. "He'll be sent to Germany soon, once everything here is settled."
"What?" Seo-Joon roared, his voice echoing through the garden. His disbelief was palpable, his anger tangible. The outburst startled Youn-Jae, who jolted from his reading and looked up, his expression a mix of hesitation and unease. For a moment, it seemed he wanted to greet Seo-Joon but wasn't sure if he should.
"Young Master," Mr. Kim pressed, his tone urgent but calm, "if I were you, I'd leave now. Your father is watching from the terrace."
Seo-Joon's chest heaved with labored breaths as he clenched his fists tightly, every muscle in his body taut with restrained rage. He didn't dare glance at the terrace, knowing full well the satisfaction his father would derive from this scene. With a sharp turn, he stomped back toward the waiting car, his movements jerky and fueled by anger.
Just as he reached the car, a voice cut through the tense atmosphere, halting him mid-stride. "Hyung, take care on your trip," Youn-Jae called out, his tone soft and uncertain, as if testing the waters.
Seo-Joon froze for a brief moment but never turned back. Without a word, he climbed into the car, slamming the door shut behind him.Â
The story doesn't end here...