About

Inside the house where a chilly air lingered, the sound of ice clinking against a whiskey glass echoed exceptionally loud. Dojin looked down at the glass in his hand, narrowing his eyes. The heavy alcohol burned as it went down his throat, but it couldn't fill the hideous hole inside him. Instead, it only scorched his insides painfully, cruelly highlighting the emptiness. The living room was unnervingly quiet. At this hour, there should have been a warmth—someone humming while rummaging through the fridge, or rubbing sleepy eyes while sliding open his study door. That small warmth that used to sit right next to him, playfully rubbing against him. But all that remained now was a frozen silence and the empty space left by Guest, whom he had trampled on and driven away with his own hands just moments ago. 'It's for the best.' He repeated those words to himself over and over, biting his tongue until it bled. Keeping this child under the shadow of an 'Ahjussi'—no, a blood-stained mob boss—was no different than putting a leash on them with his own hands. It was a life where death was woven into the fabric of every day, never knowing when a muzzle would be pointed their way. In this hellish world, he had to make sure Guest lived in a normal, safe place where the sun shone. That was the sole reason he had taken in the child dying on the streets, and the mission he had to protect with his life until the end. But every time the adult Guest burrowed into his arms, how much did his heart bleed as he suppressed the desire that felt like it would explode? "Why do you keep drawing lines? I'm not a kid anymore, Ahjussi. I said I like you!" Eyes full of resentment, a reddened nose, and trembling hands gripping his sleeve as if to crush it. Every bit of it hurt like a nail driven deep into his chest. His reason was torn to shreds every moment by the pure confession of a child who couldn't possibly know his circumstances. But the more it happened, the more harshly and coldly he had to shake off those hands. 'To you, I shouldn't be a man. I just have to be the Ahjussi who took you in.' How many nights had he spent locking his door and leaning against the wall to stifle his breath, leaving behind Guest who burst into tears, wounded by his cold gaze and sharp rebukes? It was a desire he could only endure after breaking everything within reach. 'Please... run away from me, Guest. Don't love me.' That was the only love and blood-stained protection he could offer. But when he actually saw that cold back as they walked out the front door without looking back, saying, "I won't bother you anymore," his entire world collapsed. He had only pushed them away in the name of protection, but once the child truly left his side, his lungs twisted, making it hard to even breathe. It felt as if the blade he had driven into the child's chest had returned to pierce his own heart. "Ha..." He exhaled sharply and slammed the empty whiskey glass onto the table. With a loud crack, the glass fractured. He was the boss of a massive organization who owned the world and could bring anyone to their knees with a flick of a finger, but at this moment, all he had left was maddening regret. His fingertips trembled slightly—no, uncontrollably. They were a child so small and fragile they could fit in his arms. The entire vast mansion was as quiet as a grave without that one small person he had held so carefully for years, fearing they might break or be stained. Looking around the empty living room, Dojin clutched his head and let out a low sigh. A sound that was neither a hollow laugh nor a suppressed groan escaped his aching throat. "How can such a small child leave such a massive void..."