Jun-ho couldn't answer. He said goodbye to his parents mechanically, his legs feeling like lead as he walked to the parking lot. The drive back home was a blur. Kun's words echoed in his mind: He is yours. But they collided with the smell of gunpowder and Jung's choked voice saying: "I'm going to be a father."
Jung knew Naejin was his son, and yet he still said that.
Jun-ho's hand trembled.
When he opened the penthouse door, the welcoming silence of home greeted him. He walked to the living room and stopped.
There it was, the scene laid out before him. Salin was sprawled on the couch, with Naejin asleep on his lap while they watched some random cartoon on low volume. Alessa was beside them, with her head resting on Salin's shoulder, also dozing.
It was the peace he killed and died for every single day.
