[20 years ago]
Winter had swallowed the city whole. The road was buried beneath thick layers of snow, each step muffled by white silence. The night sky hung low and dark, its color heavy as lead, while a sharp merciless wind swept through the empty street. Young Siwoo stood near the corner of a narrow alley, his small frame trembling as the cold seeped through his clothes.
He lifted his hands to his mouth and blew softly, desperate for warmth. A pale cloud of breath bloomed in the air before disappearing just as quickly.
It had been a long while.
The door in front of him remained firmly shut and unwelcoming. Siwoo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his boots already soaked through. He had been told to wait here... someone will come.
But no one did. Still, Siwoo didn't move.
He tightened his grip on the thick fabric of his coat, knuckles stiff and red, and buried his quivering lips deeper into the scarf wrapped around his neck. The cold gnawed at his skin, numbing his fingers and ears—even his resolve. Yet he stayed, eyes fixed on the closed door as though it might open if he stared long enough.
Footsteps crunched against the snow. Siwoo stiffened. From the shadows at the edge of the street, a man emerged. He was dressed entirely in black, a long coat draped neatly over his tall frame. His steps were deliberate and unhurried, each one purposeful as he approached. When he stopped in front of Siwoo, his gaze was sharp, calculating but unreadable at the same time.
"What are you doing standing here?" The man's voice was low, edged with impatience.
Siwoo turned toward him, eyes widening faintly in surprise. He swallowed, his throat dry. "Um... I was told to wait here," he answered, his voice trembling from both nervousness and the cold.
The man followed Siwoo's line of sight to the closed door. The moment his eyes landed on it, something shifted—perhaps understanding of the situation. He exhaled quietly. Then he looked back at the boy.
Without another word, he reached into his coat and handed Siwoo a sealed envelope. It felt stiff and cold against Siwoo's fingers.
"No one is coming," the man said flatly. "Let's go. We're running late."
Before Siwoo could ask anything and could even process the words, the man turned on his heel and began walking away. Siwoo flinched.
And maybe, the door won't open anytime soon.
He stared down at the envelope in his hands, confusion swirling in his chest. Perhaps a hefty sum was inside. Snow continued to fall harder now, the flakes thicker, heavier, clinging to his hair and eyelashes. He looked once more at the closed door—still indifferent—then to the retreating figure of the man.
The wind howled, biting deeper. If he stayed any longer, he knew he wouldn't last.
Clutching the envelope tightly to his chest, Siwoo broke into a run, boots slipping against the snow as he hurried after the man, small legs pushing forward with all the strength he had left.
He didn't know where they were going. But standing still, waiting in the cold was no longer an option.
*****
They arrived at a mansion that looked as though it had been carved out of another world.
The iron gates opened silently, revealing a vast estate bathed in warm golden lights. The building itself stood tall and imposing—its structure elegant yet intimidating, with polished stone walls and towering windows that reflected the glow of the night. As Siwoo stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat.
The ceiling was impossibly high. No matter how much he tilted his head back, it seemed to stretch endlessly upward. A massive chandelier hung from the center, crystals catching the light and scattering it across the room like tiny stars. Siwoo's small fingers curled into his sleeves as his eyes sparkled with awe, slowly tracing every glittering detail.
"Stop that. You'll hurt your neck."
The man's sudden warning cut through the silence as they entered the living room. Siwoo startled and immediately lowered his head, shoulders tensing. "S-Sorry..." He muttered, though the word barely escaped his lips.
The warmth of the mansion contrasted sharply with the cold he had just escaped, but the heaviness in the air made it hard for him to relax. His boots sank slightly into the thick carpet as they walked farther in.
Soon, another man stepped into view.
He was older, his presence commanding without him needing to raise his voice. The way he stood—straight-backed, composed—made it clear he was the master of this house. His sharp eyes landed on Siwoo, slowly scanning him from head to toe as of measuring his worth in a single glance.
Siwoo flinched under the scrutiny.
He lowered his gaze at once, fingers tightening around the hem of his coat, instinctively shrinking away from the weight of the man's stare. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Then, a soft sound broke it. Small footsteps.
Siwoo's eyes flickered up.
A little figure peeked out from behind the man, half-hidden by his leg. The child clutched onto the fabric of his trousers, dark eyes wide and cautious as though unsure whether to step forward or retreat.
"You must be Siwoo," the master finally spoke.
The boy stiffened.
His eyes widened in surprise at being recognized, and he nodded quickly. "Y-Yes... sir," he answered, his voice small but clear.
The man's stern expression softened, just slightly. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he reached down and gently guided the child beside him, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"This is my son," he said.
Siwoo followed the movement, gaze flickering toward the child.
"Taehan," the man continued. "He's younger than you by two years. But that doesn't matter."
Neither of the boys spoke.
Taehan stood stiffly, eyes darting between his father and his soon to be servant. His lips pressed together as though he wanted to say something but didn't know how. There was a quiet fear in him—shy, uncertain, and unaccustomed to strangers.
Then the man's voice turned firm once more.
"You, my child, will serve Taehan," he said, looking directly at Siwoo. "Until he reaches adulthood."
The words settled heavily in the air. Siwoo didn't answer.
He only stood there, small hands clenched at his sides, trying to understand what those words truly meant. His chest tightened, but he kept his head bowed, swallowing everything he felt.
Taehan shifted uncomfortably, still silent, his tiny fingers curling into his sleeve.
For Siwoo, this marked the beginning of something he could never turn away from.
A new life—one bound by duty and obedience, one he wouldn't be able to escape anymore.
Yet, deep down, he believed something else too. Behind these towering walls, away from the freezing streets and the cruel world beyond the gates, this might be the only place where he could survive.
*****
"I heard his father's business went bankrupt, and his mother ran away with another man."
The hushed whisper echoed through the kitchen, slipping between the clatter of dishes and the faint hiss of boiling water.
"Yeah... so I heard." Another maid leaned closer, lowering her voice as if the walls themselves might listen. "Poor little thing. His father had to pay off all their debts using him as the payment."
A third maid clicked her tongue softly. "Right? None of their relatives wanted to take him in. Not a single one."
Their voices carried a mix of pity and curiosity—light, careless words that cut far deeper than they realized. Before the gossip could continue, a sharper voice cut in.
"Shh! Enough." An older maid stepped forward, brows drawn together in warning. "What are you three doing whispering instead of working? Get back to your duties. This instant!"
"Yes! We're sorry!"
The maids scattered at once, heads bowed, hands moving quickly as they returned to their chores. The kitchen returned to its usual rhythm as though nothing had happened.
Unbeknownst to them, someone had heard everything. Behind the half-closed door, Siwoo stood frozen. His head slowly lowered, dark bangs hiding his eyes as his small fist clenched tightly at his side. His nails dug into his palm, but he didn't react to the pain. He already knew, and wasn't ignorant... about his father's downfall nor about his mother's disappearance.
Once, his family had been just like the others—wealthy and respected. His father had been a rising name in the business world, praised for his ambition and sharp mind.
Until the fraud incident happened. Everything collapsed overnight. Siwoo hadn't seen his mother after that day. Not once. And his father, once proud and upright, had slowly crumbled, drowning himself in alcohol and despair. Debt piled upon the debt. In the end, his father had begged. And even if Siwoo had wanted to refuse... even if he had cried or screamed, he would still have paid the price.
His shoulders trembled as a mix of anger, shame, and loneliness swelled inside his chest. He bowed his head further, swallowing the tight knot in his throat.
Then, a small shadow entered his view. Siwoo stiffened.
He lifted his head slowly and found Taehan standing in front of him, holding a piece of chocolate in his small hand. The wrapper was already half-torn as if he had been saving it for something important. Taehan hesitated, then gently pushed it forward.
"Want to have some?" He asked, his voice soft and tentative.
Siwoo blinked, caught off guard.
Chocolate was rare and precious. He swallowed instinctively, eyes lingering on the treat before slowly nodding. He accepted it with both hands, careful.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Taehan's face immediately lit up, a bright, innocent smile spreading across his feature as if that simple acceptance meant everything.
From that day on, they were rarely apart. They played together in the wide gardens, whispered secrets beneath blankets, and laughed quietly in corners of the mansion meant to be silent. Slowly, and unknowingly, their worlds became intertwined.
To Siwoo, Taehan became more than just the master he was meant to serve. He was a little brother. Someone precious and worth protecting.
Siwoo adored him so deeply that he made a vow in his heart to devote his life to Taehan—to stay by his side no matter what. Until the day Taehan himself dismissed him.
"I like you, hyung."
The words came one quiet night, spoken with eyes full of longing.
Siwoo froze.
His eyes widened, breath hitching as if the world had suddenly tilted. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He lay stiff on the bed, heart pounding violently in his chest.
Taehan was on top of him, close. His gaze was intense, vulnerable, filled with something that wasn't childish anymore. Sadness lingered there too, deep and unresolved.
"Taehan..." Siwoo finally managed, pushing him away gently but firmly. "We... can't."
The boy frowned, confusion knitting his brows. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, we can't be like this!" Siwoo said, his voice shaking despite his resolve.
"But why?" Taehan pressed, eyes searching his face. "Tell me, hyung."
Siwoo stayed silent.
"I've always loved you," Taehan confessed, voice trembling. "Every since the first time I saw you. I wanted to kiss you, hold you... stay with you like this every day."
The words felt too heavy. Again and again, Siwoo rejected him. Every confession, and attempt to cross the line. He told Taehan the same thing each time—that what they had was familial, nothing more.
"I'm sorry, Taehan," Siwoo said softly, guilt written all over his face.
Because no matter how much it hurt him, he couldn't let it happen.
*****
Mr. Wang shifted restlessly in his seat, the leather chair creaking beneath him. He lifted a hand and pressed his fingers against his temple, massaging as if that alone could ease the pounding frustration in his head.
"I don't understand what that boy wants this time," he muttered, voice low but strained. "Every time I think he's finally settled, he throws another tantrum."
Across from him, his wife slowly lowered the book she had been pretending to read. She looked at him over the rim of her glasses, unimpressed.
"See what you've done?" She said coolly. "You spoiled him too much, and now it's all backfiring on you."
Mr. Wang heard her words clearly but chose to ignore them. He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening, then turned his attention toward the young man standing quietly beside him.
"Siwoo," he called.
Siwoo straightened immediately, lifting his gaze. "Yes, sir?"
There was a brief pause. Mr. Wang studied him—his composed posture, his calm eyes, unwavering sense of duty he carried like a second skin.
"... Will you convince him for me?" Mr. Wang finally asked.
Siwoo blinked. "Pardon, me?"
"Yes." Mr. Wang's voice softened, something close for desperation slipping through his authoritative tone. "You're the only one he listens to. Please."
From the side, Mrs. Wang clicked her tongue sharply, folding her book shut. "You'll get nothing out of it, I'm telling you, honey. That child's already made up his mind."
Siwoo lowered his gaze, conflicted.
He knew Taehan had been rebellious lately—skipping classes, ignoring tutors, vanishing for days under the excuse of club activities. Now that Taehan was in high school, the stakes were higher than ever. His parents' fear that their carefully laid plans for his future were slowly unraveling.
They had sent him to a prestigious school, expecting excellence. Instead, Taehan had disappeared into the world of idol training, to pursue something Mr. Wang saw as reckless and beneath the family's expectations.
It put everything in jeopardy. Siwoo couldn't let more damage happen.
As Taehan's servant—as someone who raised him, protected him, loved him in his own way—Siwoo believed it was his duty to guide him back to the right path.
So he agreed.
That night, he confronted Taehan. And everything shattered.
The argument barely had time to begin before Taehan slammed him against the wall, the impact knocking the airbout of Siwoo's lungs. Before he could react, Taehan's lips crashed onto his forceful, and overwhelmingly desperate.
[!!]
Siwoo shoved him away with all the strength he had.
"Please stop this already, Taehan!" His voice cracked, raw and trembling. Shame burned through him, years of suppressed discomfort finally erupting. "I've had enough... just—stop please."
"Why?" Taehan shouted back, eyes blazing with hurt and anger. "Why do you keep rejecting me? Over and over again?!"
Siwoo fell silent.
He looked at Taehan and saw wasn't anger, but sadness and longing. A boy who had never learned how to live without clinging.
It pains him... though Siwoo knew he had to end it.
"I can't be with you the way you want me to," he said quietly, every word heavy with truth.
"Why?!" Taehan demanded, voice breaking. "Tell me why!"
Siwoo hesitated. His throat tightened. But if he didn't say it now, this would never end.
"I..." His lips trembled before he forced the words out, "... because I'm getting married."
The room went completely still. Taehan froze. It felt as though something massive had crashed down on him—an invisible weight crushing his chest, stealing his breath. For a moment, he couldn't even process what he had heard. Siwoo turned away, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He clenched his fists, shoulders shaking as he fought to stay upright.
Taehan's gaze drifted around the room, thoughts spiraling violently, trying to make sense of it all. Slowly and bitterly, he spoke.
"Did my father arrange it?" His voice was hollow. "Who is she? How much did he pay her to agree to this shit?"
"She's a good person, Taehan," Siwoo interrupted softly. "No one paid her. Not even the President."
Taehan looked straight at him. Silence stretched between them. He didn't believe a single word.
Lie.
"Do you love her?" Taehan asked suddenly.
Siwoo's eyes widened.
"Answer me," Taehan pressed, voice sharp but trembling underneath. "Do you love her?!" He raised his voice.
Siwoo knew this was the most dangerous question of all. One wrong word, and everything would collapse completely.
He waited.
Then, forcing the lie to sound like truth, he said, "More than you think I do."
Taehan didn't respond.
He stared at Siwoo's tear-streaked face, disbelief clouding his eyes. His jaw tightened as if he were holding something back—rage, grief, betrayal.
Lie. Lie. Lies.
Without another word, Taehan turned around and walked away without looking back.
[At present time]
The door creaked softly as it opened. Siwoo slipped inside with careful, almost hesitant steps, as though afraid the slightest sound might disturb the air itself.
Taehan was seated on the couch, posture relaxed, one arm draped over the backrest while his attention was fixed on the phone. His thumb scrolled lazily across the screen, until he sensed the presence behind him.
"You're finally here, hyung," Taehan said without looking up, voice calm but edged with expectation. "I've been waiting."
He lifted his head mid-sentence...
"What took you so lo—"
His words died instantly.
Taehan's gaze locked onto Siwoo's face. A faint red mark stood out starkly against his skin, unmistakable in its shape and color.
For a split second, confusion flickered across Taehan's features. Then his expression hardened, his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened into a sharp scowl.
"What happened to your face?" His voice dropped low, cold enough to chill the room.
Siwoo stopped a few steps away. He said nothing. He lowered his gaze instead, shoulders subtly stiffening, hands clenched at his sides. Taehan rose from the couch.
The calm he'd worn moments ago vanished, replaced by something volatile. He stepped closer, his presence looming.
"Tell me, hyung," he demanded, voice firm and unforgiving. "Who did this to you?"
Silence.
Then Siwoo exhaled slowly, as if preparing himself for impact. He pressed his lips together, hesitation clear before finally speaking.
"I went to talk to Director Je," he said quietly. "Your father wanted to clean your name from the recent scandal."
"You what?" Taehan blinked, disbelief flashing across his face before his brows slammed together in anger. "Why do you always agree with that old man's plans?"
Siwoo didn't answer.
He remained still, eyes lowered, enduring the words as though he deserved them. Taehan stared at him, searching his face. Then realization struck... sharp and immediate.
"Director Je..." Taehan paused, breath hitching. His eyes widened slightly before narrowing again. "It was him. He did this to you, didn't he?"
"... No."
The denial came too fast. Siwoo's eyes shifted, betraying him. Taehan didn't miss it.
His fists clenched. Without another word, he took a decisive step forward, his body tense with resolve. "I'll deal with him."
Before he could move past, Siwoo grabbed his arm.
"Taehan, where are you going?!" Siwoo cried out, panic threading through his voice.
"I'm going to talk some sense into that fucker!"
"No!" Siwoo shouted, the word breaking as it left his throat.
Taehan spun around, eyes blazing. "And why not?!"
"Why stop me?!"
Siwoo bit down on his lip, the sting grounding him. "Please..." His grip tightened, fingers trembling. "Just stay here."
Taehan scoffed. "For what?"
"There are already reporters bombarding your house and the company," Siwoo said urgently. "If you go out now, you'll only ruin the plan."
"Plan?" Taehan echoed bitterly.
"And besides," Siwoo continued, voice lowering, "it was my fault to begin with because it was my idea, despite knowing the Director wouldn't cooperate. I still went there. But I ended up provoking him."
"But hyung—!"
"Please," Siwoo interrupted, his voice cracking as his composure finally faltered. "Just... stay here. Let me handle it."
Taehan stared at him for a long moment.
Anger warred with restraint, pride with helplessness.
Finally, he looked away, jaw clenched tightly as if swallowing something sharp.
"... Fine," he muttered. "But go fix yourself."
Siwoo looked up, eyes widening.
"Taehan—"
"You look like a mess," Taehan said coldly, already turning his back. "Don't let anyone else see you like that."
He walked away, footsteps echoing as he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway. Siwoo remained where he stood, watching until Taehan was completely gone.
Only then did his shoulders sag.
There it was again, that feeling he had buried for years, carefully concealed beneath obedience and restraint. No matter how many times he was rejected, and harsh Taehan's words became—the truth inside him never faded. He couldn't afford to be selfish nor greedy.
His devotion, loyalty, and duty were the only ways he allowed himself to love the young master he had chosen to serve for the rest of his life.
If only you knew how much I wanted to be with you...
He can't over step his boundaries. And he knew this. No matter how much it hurt, Siwoo would always choose duty over his desire, will, and his heart locked away where it belonged.