“…So that’s how it is.”
The news of his untimely death at the border of the district reached the man swiftly. He neither felt sorrow nor anger. Only a hollow chuckle escaped his lips.
The aide was investigating the mastermind behind it, but the man immediately sensed that the perpetrator was someone inside the mansion. No—anyone with a shred of sense would have reached the same conclusion.
And in cases like this, the culprit was most likely the person closest to the next in line for the position of District Head. Letting out a sigh, the man asked his aide,
“What about the body?”
“The aide who accompanied him took care of it.”
There was no reason for the aide to file a false report, meaning the death was most likely real. Exhaling deeply, the man dismissed the aide who had finished his report. He needed some time alone.
‘How pointless.’
Leaning against the window, he stared at the meaningless scenery outside. High in the sky, the moon bore barely perceptible cracks—scars left in the aftermath of that terror attack.
With the loss of the most noble of the Shining, the position of District Head remained vacant. The next in line by blood, Joshua Shining, was the darkest in hue, but he was far too incompetent to assume the role.
Now that the news had reached the man, there was no way Joshua and his followers would remain idle. The district would be thrown into chaos. He could already envision the brutal power struggle that was about to unfold.
But none of that mattered to him anymore.
‘What does any of it even mean?’
With a faint, bitter smile, he straightened himself away from the window. Leaving the office behind, he made his way to his bedroom—a place now guarded with heightened security, several times more than usual.
As if he were hiding something.
“We greet the Master of the District.”
The guards stationed in layers outside his bedroom bowed deeply at his approach. Without a word, he passed them, muffling his footsteps as he slipped through the slightly ajar door.
The bedroom, shrouded in thick blackout curtains, was steeped in darkness. Moving unerringly toward the bed, he reached out and switched on a small lamp.
And there, sprawled across the large bed, lay a single figure.
The man carefully sat on the edge of the bed, making sure not to wake the other. The flickering light cast shadows over Han Jae-hoon’s face, which had remained in slumber for days. Staring blankly at him, the man finally spoke.
“Jae-hoon, my son is dead.”
He murmured as if speaking to himself, gazing at the sleeping Han Jae-hoon. But even if they were both called “sons,” the meaning was different. To Han Jae-hoon, that child was his entire world. But to the man, he had merely been one of many choices.
Still, he wondered if this news might bring even the slightest solace to Han Jae-hoon. Though no matter how much their grief differed in magnitude, sharing pain would not change a thing. But the man had never been one to understand such things.
“It’s about time you woke up. You really do sleep too long.”
He gently brushed Han Jae-hoon’s hair aside as he spoke. Perhaps due to the shock, Han Jae-hoon had yet to open his eyes. There was no telling when this long slumber would end, but the man believed that, eventually, he would wake.
Right now, Han Jae-hoon was simply trying to escape reality. He wanted to flee from the cruel truth of his son’s death and lose himself in the comfort of dreams. But the man did not like that. Because he knew he would never be in Han Jae-hoon’s dreams.
“When you open your eyes, much will have changed.”
With Vincent Shining dead, he intended to follow the predetermined order and hand over the position of District Head to the next Shining in line. Then, he would leave District 1 with Han Jae-hoon.
Someday, they would go to that distant place they had once spoken of. A place where no one could find them, where no one knew who they were. What could be more blissful than spending the rest of their days together in such a place?
The man exhaled a trembling breath and bent down, resting his forehead gently against Han Jae-hoon’s. The warmth of their touching skin was soothing.
“It’s time to keep my promise.”
***
His eyelids, heavy as if soaked in water, barely managed to lift. He had no idea how long he had slept, but the first sensation upon waking was relief. For the first time in ages, he had slept soundly.
‘Where… am I?’
Blinking slowly, he gazed at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to recall where this place was. One thing was certain—at least it wasn’t that horrific room.
This place had windows. Sunlight streamed in. It was warm, unlike the cold, lifeless space he had been trapped in before. That fact alone reassured him.
Following the faint scent lingering in the air, he turned his head—and saw a cascade of flame-colored hair.
There he was, asleep with his body slumped over the bed.
‘Could it really be…?’
With trembling caution, he reached out and touched the striking red hair. The silky strands slipped through his fingers. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.
Vincent Shining.
Only then did he fully accept that the man before him was no illusion, but reality.
Slowly, Vincent stirred. He lifted his head, and their eyes met.
Vincent grasped the hand still resting against his hair and brought it to his lips, brushing them softly over the fingertips.
“You’re awake?”
His voice was thick with sleep. When he nodded, Vincent playfully nibbled at his fingertips. Pretending it hurt, he winced, and Vincent laughed out loud.
“How are you feeling?”
“I think… I’m okay, more or less.”
Of course, the bruises still ached, but being close to him had completely erased the persistent fever that had tormented me. So this was why Helen had insisted I stop being stubborn and return to him.
If more time had passed like this, I might have wasted away in a fever until I died. If not, I could have been kidnapped by traffickers and sold off somewhere. No matter the outcome, it would have been the worst possible ending.
“I’m relieved. I was really worried.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m always okay.”
As I glanced down, I noticed the bandages wrapped tightly around his abdomen. The faint traces of blood seeping through brought back that night’s events with startling clarity. Back then, I had truly thought he was going to die.
Resting his cheek against my hand, he closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, his lips trembling for just a fleeting moment. Though he quickly composed himself, I caught it—the way he swallowed his tears.
“As soon as Seo-yul hyung recovers, we’re heading straight back to the mansion.”
As expected, he intended to take me back. The thought of returning to the place I had barely escaped made my vision go dark with dread, but I understood now. There was no choice for me to make.
“If I go back… I’ll never be able to leave again.”
His fingers wrapped gently around my ankle as he whispered those words. A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I forced myself not to react. Instead, I simply nodded in silence.
“You came all this way because you wanted to leave.”
“Yeah. I came all this way because I wanted to leave.”
Hearing my unwavering response, his eyes wavered. His anxious gaze locked onto mine, and his grip on my ankle tightened.
“I’ll build a prison and lock Seo-yul hyung inside. I’ll shackle your ankles, collar your neck, and tie you to the bed so you can’t move.”
“Yeah, do that.”
“Do you think… I won’t?”
I was the one listening to such horrifying words, yet he was the one who looked scared. His grip weakened, and he let go of my ankle, leaning his weight against me.
Unable to support his weight, I collapsed onto the bed, and he followed, falling beside me.
Above me, the ceiling glowed softly with the warmth of the afternoon sun.
“Even without all that… can’t you just stay by my side?”
His voice trembled pathetically. Desperately, as if begging, he whispered those words and began to cry, his shoulders shaking.
I neither comforted nor pushed him away. I just stared at the ceiling, bathed in golden sunlight, as if all of this had nothing to do with me.
“I’ll become a pitiful person. I’ll let myself be weak. So please… just don’t ever leave me again.”
Hearing those words, my fingers, neatly resting atop the blanket, flinched ever so slightly. But once again, I did nothing except wait for his tears to dry.
He cried for a long time, and when exhaustion finally overtook him, he fell asleep, still leaning against me.
Listening to his slow, steady breathing, I cautiously raised a hand and gently patted his fragile shoulder.
The room remained as quiet and peaceful as ever.
