Sojin stood in the spacious and cold hall of his mother Herin’s mansion. Despite the pain in his body and the weakness remaining from the passionate hours spent with Aziel, he was forced to maintain his cold-blooded persona. Herin was sitting by the fireplace, a glass of wine in her hand. She looked at her son with her sharp, scrutinizing gaze from which nothing could be hidden.

​— You are late, Sojin, — she said, making the threat palpable in her voice. — And you look as if you are coming not from a fight, but... from someone’s arms.

​Sojin’s muscles tightened, but he did not make a sound. Herin slowly rose and approached her son, touching the wounds on his face with her fingers—the same wounds Aziel had treated so carefully just a while ago.

​— I hope that toy you spend time with is worth the risk you are putting yourself under, — Herin continued, suddenly pressing hard on Sojin’s wounded cheek. — Remember, I know your every move. If I decide that boy is making you weak, he will disappear faster than you can manage to paint his last portrait.

​Fury flared in Sojin’s eyes, but he knew his mother’s capabilities. Herin was not joking. Sojin did not try to remove his mother’s hand from his face. He simply looked her straight in the eyes, without fear, without bowing.

​— This is the last time, — he finally said, his voice calm but unshakable. — Whatever you want, whatever I must do... this is the last job.

​Herin’s eyes narrowed slightly.

​— After that, — Sojin continued, — you shall no longer address me as a clan member. Only as a family member. A son.

​Silence filled the hall. Only the fireplace crackled.

​— I left that world a long time ago, — he added.

​Herin said nothing for a long while. Her gaze was cold, but something stirred deep within. She turned and picked up her wine glass but did not drink. She simply looked at the red liquid as if answers lay there.

​— Fine, — she finally said.

​Sojin’s body tensed imperceptibly.

​— If this is your decision... I will not stop you.

​Sojin had not expected her to agree so easily. It worried him more than the opposite. Herin looked at her son again.

​— But remember one thing, — she said, no longer as a clan leader, but as a mother. — It is not worth leaving the family for the sake of momentary feelings. — Her gaze was sharp. — Are you sure that boy will stay by your side when he sees who you truly are?

​Sojin’s fingers clenched unnoticed.

​— When he sees your past, — Herin continued, — and your present.

​Silence. Then her voice softened.

​— But no matter what happens... you can always return home.

​These words hung in the air—heavy, yet sincere. Sojin said nothing. He simply gave a slight nod, turned, and walked toward the exit. The door closed behind him.

​Kang Herin remained alone. She slowly sat down in front of the fireplace. The fire danced in her eyes, and memories she always avoided began to return. She was young again. She was not yet Kang Herin. Just Herin. She remembered him. A simple boy. With kind eyes and a warm smile. He did not belong to their world. He did not know violence, he did not know fear, he did not know power. And that was exactly what attracted her.

​Herin got married, for the first and last time. On her father’s advice, she said nothing to him about her real life. She lived a double life. By day, a simple woman, a loving wife, a future mother. By night, the clan heir. For a while, she was truly happy.

​When she became pregnant for the second time, her father, Kang Jinho, spoke about it openly for the first time. They were sitting in his office. A heavy silence hung in the air.

​— Herin, — he said in a calm but heavy voice, — it is time for you to leave.

Herin slowly raised her gaze. — What are you saying?

— You have a family, — he continued. — A husband. A child. And soon you will have a second one. I do not want you to live in the midst of all this.

​Herin’s eyes turned cold. — This is my life.

— No, — Jinho answered sharply. — This is my life. And I know the price it has.

Silence.

— I want you to live a good life, — he added more softly. — As a mother. As a wife. Not as a clan heir.

​Herin took those words as an insult. As a sign of weakness.

— You think I am weak, — she said in a cold voice.

— I think you deserve more, — her father replied.

​But it was too late. Something inside Herin had broken. The argument started quietly but soon voices rose. The words became sharper. More cruel. In the end, Kang Jinho said:

— Go. Tell your husband who you truly are. And you will see for yourself what happens.

​Herin did not answer. She simply turned and left. Straight to a tattoo parlor. And there, without hesitation, she ordered a snake tattoo on her right arm—from shoulder to wrist. The mark of the clan. She returned home and showed him; she told him everything. In her husband’s eyes, she saw fear for the first time—not anger, but fear. That was the end. They separated.

​Herin returned to her father, but she was no longer the same. They argued again.

— You have become weak, — she had told her father. That was the final blow.

— It is time for you to leave, — she had said. — The clan needs a stronger leader.

​Kang Jinho looked at her for a long time. He saw the fire in her eyes.

— Fine, — her father had said finally.

That was how Kang Herin became the boss.

​Aziel slowly opened his eyes. For a few seconds, he simply stared at the ceiling, not understanding why his heart was beating so fast. Then memory returned. All of it, at once. Sojin’s hands, his voice, his gaze. And those words: I love you.

​Aziel’s breath hitched. He sat up abruptly in bed.

— I... — he whispered to himself.

​His ears began to burn. He touched them with his hand, feeling the heat. His cheeks were also flushed. It was real. It wasn't a dream. He had truly confessed, and Sojin hadn't left. He had stayed. An unnoticed smile appeared on Aziel’s lips—small, uncertain, but real.

​He quickly picked up his phone. The screen lit up, and Sojin’s name appeared at the top of the messages. His heart raced again. For a few seconds, he just stared at the empty field, not knowing what to write. Then he began. Slowly. Carefully.

​Morning, my Sojin. After yesterday, I feel like I am still in a dream. Thank you for being in my life. Please be careful. I am looking forward to seeing you.

​He waited. A few seconds. A few minutes. Nothing. The message had not even been read. Aziel bit his lip slightly.

Maybe he is asleep, — he whispered to himself. That was normal. Yes. Perfectly normal.

​He got out of bed, filled with a lightness he hadn't felt in a long time. Standing before the mirror, he noticed how his face glowed. His eyes were alive. Warm. He picked up the phone again. Still nothing. A bit of disappointment slid in, but he quickly pushed it away. He wrote a second message.

​Write to me when you wake up.

​Sent. Hours passed. A third message came later.

​I hope you are well.

​And then, a fourth.

​I miss you.

​He looked at those last words for a long time before closing the screen. The evening lights of the restaurant were burning when Aziel walked in. His gaze immediately began to search: black hair, familiar body, familiar presence. Nothing. He approached the manager.

​— Kang Sera... has Sojin not come yet?

Kang Sera raised her gaze from the papers. Her face was calm as usual.

— He is still on leave, — she said.

Aziel’s heart squeezed slightly. — I see, — he said quietly.

​That night the stage was the same. The music was the same. But something was missing. Someone.

​Days passed, one after another. Aziel continued to write. He continued to wait, but there was no answer. He went to the studio; the door was closed. The lights were off. The air was empty. He stood there for a few minutes before finally turning and leaving. Every day the anxiety inside him grew. Just one question: where was he?

​One morning everything was the same—the same ceiling, the same silence. Aziel picked up the phone without hope. Simply out of habit. He opened the messages. And froze. A new message. From Sojin.

​Forgive my silence. There were serious clashes within the clan, and contacting you could have made you a target. I could not allow you to be endangered because of me. Now the situation is relatively calm. Wait for me at home; I will come for you, and we will go to work together.

​For a second, Aziel just stared at the screen. Then—the phone slipped from his fingers and fell right on his face.

— Ouch—

​Aziel caught his breath. On one hand, his heart was soaring with happiness: Sojin had not abandoned him; he was thinking about his safety. However, the word danger sobered him. He realized that his lover’s life was not just the elegant studio and painting, but also a reality full of shadows, blood, and cruelty.