The mansion was quiet. The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall echoed through the empty house, marking the passage of time. The house, once full of life and laughter, now felt hollow. But there was one sound that broke the silence each night: the faint shuffle of footsteps, the strained effort of someone pushing past their limits.

It was past midnight when Saejoon finally made his way to the grand staircase. The house was still, with Hana tucked away in her room, blissfully unaware of the silent battle her brother fought every night.

Saejoon’s legs were still weak, still unsteady, and the thought of moving them without assistance felt like an impossible task. But tonight, like every other night for the past few months, he was determined.

He stood by the banister, the cold marble under his feet grounding him. His hands gripped the railing tightly as he stared at the stairs before him, the distance between the landing and the next step feeling insurmountable. The struggle, the pain—it all overwhelmed him, but he couldn’t stop. He refused to stop.

With a soft exhale, Saejoon took the first step.

His right leg trembled, the weight of it nearly sending him crashing to the ground. But he gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain, forcing himself to continue. One step at a time. Each motion was a battle, each attempt a reminder of everything he had lost.

The air in the mansion felt thick with his effort, each movement a test of his endurance, his will. His body shook with the effort, but he was quiet. He made no sound, no cries of pain, just the faintest of breaths as he struggled onward.

One more step.

The first flight of stairs. The second. Then the third.

His knees buckled once, but he caught himself before falling. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath coming in short gasps, but he refused to give in. He wasn’t going to let himself fall.

By the time Saejoon reached the top of the stairs, his entire body was trembling, his legs shaking violently under his weight. His mind screamed for rest, for a break, but he wouldn’t allow it. He clenched his jaw, his knuckles white from gripping the banister too tightly, and slowly, painfully, he turned toward the long hallway.

He was still nowhere near the strength he had before the accident, but every night, with every small movement, he could feel himself getting closer. He had been paralyzed—completely helpless—but now, his resolve was stronger than the pain. He was going to walk again. Even if it took years, he would get there. He would get up for Hana.

Saejoon moved slowly down the hall, every inch a challenge, but he kept going. His eyes blurred with exhaustion, and his legs screamed in protest, but he didn’t let them stop him.

When he finally reached the door to his office, he stopped. His hands were slick with sweat, his breathing ragged, but he stood upright. For a long moment, he simply stared at the door, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. It would have been so easy to give up, to collapse into the nearest chair and let the night pass by.

But no.

He wasn’t going to let himself give in to the despair, the loneliness, the memories of what had been. He couldn’t.

His grip on the door handle tightened, and with one final push of willpower, Saejoon stepped forward, entering the room that had become his sanctuary from the world.

He made his way to the desk, and for a moment, he allowed himself to rest against it, his legs trembling beneath him. The familiar sight of the piles of work, the business reports, the stacks of documents—it all felt so far removed from the life he had once known. But it was here, and it was his responsibility.

He turned his gaze toward the door to Hana’s room. She was asleep, innocent in her dreams, unaware of the war he fought every night, every step he took toward recovery.

For her, he would keep fighting.

He would never stop.

The following morning, as Saejoon woke to the sound of the clock ticking and the first rays of dawn streaming through the windows, he could feel the weariness settling deep in his bones. But there was no time to rest. There was no time for weakness.

He had to be strong.

He had to be the person Hana needed him to be.

So, despite the aches in his legs, the exhaustion in his mind, and the deep, gnawing sense of loss in his heart, Saejoon pushed himself through his morning routine. He prepared for another day of meetings, another round of decisions that could determine the fate of the Shin Group.

But no matter how heavy the weight on his shoulders, one thing was clear—he would not break. Not now, not ever.

Because if he could take one more step, if he could keep moving forward, so could Hana.

And for her, he would never stop.