Jun was awakened early the next morning by a soft knock on his bedroom door.

He blinked groggily, disoriented for a moment before remembering where he was. The unfamiliar ceiling, the heavy curtains, the faint scent of polished wood—this wasn’t his room back in Gwangju. This was the Kim estate.

“Yes?” he said, sitting up.

“The chairman would like to see you, Young Master Jun.”

Jun stiffened.

The voice belonged to a man standing outside his door. A servant? No—his tone was different. Professional. Controlled.

“I’ll be there,” Jun replied after a brief pause.

By the time he arrived at Min-su’s private sitting room, his hair was still slightly damp from washing his face. Min-su sat by the window, already dressed neatly, his cane resting beside him. Standing a step behind him was a tall man in a charcoal suit, posture straight, expression neutral.

“This is Yunseok,” Min-su said. “He will be your assistant.”

Jun stared.

“…My what?”

Yunseok bowed politely. “I’ll be assisting you from now on.”

Jun looked back at his grandfather, genuinely confused. “Assistant? Why would I need one? I’m not some CEO or politician.”

Min-su smiled faintly, as though he had expected this reaction.
“Yohan has one. Ji-hoon. And Nayeon has Taemin.”

Jun’s brow furrowed. “She’s a kid.”

“She is still a Kim,” Min-su replied calmly. “And you are the heir.”

The word sat heavily on Jun’s shoulders.

“I don’t need someone following me around twenty-four hours a day,” Jun muttered.

Yunseok didn’t react, his expression remaining politely blank.

“You’ll get used to it,” Min-su said. “For now, let him help you understand the estate.”

Jun exhaled slowly. Great. Another reminder that I don’t belong here.

After breakfast, Yunseok guided Jun through the mansion.

“This is the west wing,” Yunseok explained. “Reserved for private family use. The east wing is mostly guest rooms. The third floor is restricted.”

“Restricted how?” Jun asked.

“Chairman’s orders.”

Figures.

Jun wandered half-listening, taking in the sheer scale of the place. Endless corridors. Portraits of ancestors staring down at him with unreadable expressions. Crystal chandeliers that made his old apartment feel like a shoebox in comparison.

As they turned a corner, Jun froze.

Yohan.

He stood near the window, dressed in a crisp black jacket, phone in hand. His presence alone shifted the atmosphere. When his eyes met Jun’s, the temperature seemed to drop instantly.

Yohan stared at him—cold, sharp, assessing.

Then he walked past.

Jun let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

But Yohan stopped.

He turned slightly, leaning in just enough for only Jun to hear.

“You don’t belong here,” Yohan whispered.
“You’re not one of us. You’re just an outsider.”

Jun stiffened.

“It’s only a matter of time before Grandpa realizes his mistake,” Yohan continued quietly.
“And when he does, you’ll be kicked out.”

Then he straightened and walked away as if nothing had happened.

Jun stood there, heart pounding.

Yunseok glanced at him. “Are you all right?”

Jun clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”

But he wasn’t.

Yohan hated him.

That much was clear.

Jun tried to ignore it. He told himself it didn’t matter. He hadn’t asked to be here. He hadn’t wanted the title, the wealth, or the cold stares.

But the next blow came sooner than expected.

Two days later, Min-su called him into his study again.

“I’ve transferred you,” Min-su said casually.

Jun blinked. “Transferred?”

“To Yohan’s college.”

The words echoed in Jun’s head.

“What?”

“You’ll be attending the same institution from now on.”

Jun opened his mouth, then closed it. “You didn’t ask me.”

Min-su’s gaze sharpened. “This isn’t a request.”

Across campus, Yohan found out the same day.

And he lost it.

Yohan slammed his fist onto his desk the moment Ji-hoon finished explaining.

“He did what?”

“The chairman transferred Jun to your college,” Ji-hoon said carefully.

Yohan’s jaw tightened. His vision burned.

“That outsider,” he hissed. “He’s doing this on purpose.”

He grabbed his jacket and stormed out.

From that day on, the atmosphere between them worsened.

At college, whispers followed Jun everywhere.

“That’s him.”

“The lost heir.”

“He doesn’t look special.”

Jun felt every stare, every judgment. He kept his head down, attending classes, trying to stay invisible—but invisibility was impossible when your name carried power.

Yohan ignored him publicly. No words. No glances.

But the hostility was unmistakable.

One evening, Jun sat in his room, flipping through a book he wasn’t really reading.

A knock came.

Before he could respond, the door opened.

“Nayeon?”

She hopped in, plopping onto his bed like she owned the place.

“Bored,” she declared.

Jun chuckled softly. “Figures.”

They talked idly for a while—about classes, food, how annoying Yohan was (mostly Nayeon talking).

Then suddenly, she tilted her head.

“Do you remember how you got lost?”

Jun stiffened slightly. “Not really.”

“But you remember Aunt Eunha,” she said.

Jun nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Nayeon narrowed her eyes. “Then answer this.”

She leaned forward.
“How did you end up in Gwangju?”

Jun frowned. “Because we were there when I got lost.”

She smacked the back of his head lightly.

“Ow!”

“That’s the question, idiot!” she snapped.

“What do you mean?”

Nayeon sighed, suddenly serious.
“When I was ten, I overheard Grandpa and your father talking. I didn’t even know you existed back then, so I was curious.”

Jun’s chest tightened.

“They said Aunt Eunha took you and Yohan to Jeonju,” she continued.
“And that’s where you got lost.”

Jun felt the room tilt.

“…What?”

“You were never supposed to be in Gwangju.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Jun stared at the floor, his thoughts racing.

“I was a kid,” he said slowly. “I wouldn’t know where we were going.”

He lifted his head.

“But if what you’re saying is true…”

His voice dropped.

“Then how did I end up in Gwangju?”

Nayeon didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

The implication hung heavy between them—dark, unsettling.

Someone had taken him farther than he could wander.

Someone had sent him there.

And suddenly, Jun realized something terrifying.

Maybe he hadn’t been lost.