Two days passed.)
But the storm inside Sunghoon's world refused to settle.
Everything appeared normal on the surface—students in uniforms, teachers exchanging polite greetings, life continuing its daily routine. But for Daejun, nothing felt normal anymore. Not when he was living a lie every second, watching, pretending, blending in... all for one reason: Hana.
As the newly appointed temporary teacher, he had gotten closer to her than anyone else. He helped her with assignments, stood beside her under shared roofs on rainy mornings, carried her books, and even made her laugh once. Just once.
He watched her smile... and wondered how someone so gentle was part of the clan that shattered Sunghoon's world.
(Today, the sky was weeping.)
Seoul was soaked in a cold, endless downpour. Rain tapped like quiet warnings on glass windows as classes ended and umbrellas bloomed across campus.
Hana didn't rush home like usual. That's what made Daejun curious. From a distance, he followed her—steps careful, invisible.
She walked toward the library.
The building was quiet, bathed in warm golden lights against the gray sky outside. Daejun stepped inside, shaking the rain from his coat. His eyes scanned quickly—trained, alert, military-like precision.
And then... he saw her.
Hana was seated in the far corner, her head slightly tilted, listening. Across from her sat a man—unfamiliar, sharply dressed in all black, cap pulled low, posture stiff… too stiff.
Daejun's heart dropped. That man wasn't a student. And worse, the way he sat—cautious, guarded—Daejun knew exactly what that meant.
(Dragon Clan.)
His blood ran cold.
Did they find out Sunghoon was in the city? Did they know Hana was being watched? Had his face, the face of Uyama's most loyal right hand, already been recognized?
He didn't wait to find out. Without a second glance, Daejun slipped out the door and disappeared into the rain.
Minutes later, he was standing outside Sunghoon's apartment—soaked to the skin, heart pounding. The door swung open before he could knock.
Minjun stood there, wet, shaken.
"Where's Sunghoon?" Daejun asked, eyes narrowing.
The bedroom door opened behind them.
Sunghoon stepped out, already dressed, his black coat half-buttoned. His expression was unreadable—cold, sharp, deadly.
"Let's leave," Sunghoon said firmly. "Now."
"What happened?" Daejun asked, but Minjun was the one who answered.
"It's Madam Kim," he said quietly. "She collapsed earlier. Mr. Kim called… her condition isn't good. She's been asking for Sunghoon sir"
Sunghoon's jaw tightened. He didn't speak again. He didn't have to.
The three of them rushed out of the apartment like ghosts in the rain.
The drive to Uyama was long. Three hours. No sound. The rain chased them across cities and highways, blurring streetlights into silver streaks.
Daejun sat in the passenger seat, every muscle in his body tense, mind still spiraling around the man in the library. Could it be coincidence? No. Nothing was coincidence when it came to the Dragon Clan.
In the back seat, Sunghoon stared out the window—lost in a storm of his own. The last time he rushed like this for anyone like was for Yuna on night she died. And now, his mother. He couldn't afford to lose again.
(The gates of Uyama villa opened slowly,) almost like they didn't want to. The car rolled in silently.
As soon as the tires stopped, Sunghoon was out—his footsteps sharp, fast, each one echoing down the long marble hallway. Mr. Kim stood outside Madam Kim's room, waiting.
The second he saw his son, he pulled him into a tight embrace—the kind of hug that held in it the weight of a father barely keeping it together.
"She was asking for you," Mr. Kim said, his voice cracked. "She didn't sleep until she heard you were coming."
Sunghoon's voice was hoarse. "How is she?"
"The doctor just left. It's her heart. The stress… the grief. Her body's tired, Sunghoon. But she's sleeping now. You came just in time."
Sunghoon stared at the door, the same door where his mother lay fragile—a queen who once ruled this house like fire, now dimmed by sorrow.
"I'll stay here," he said.
Mr. Kim nodded. "Go wash up. I'll call you the moment she wakes."
Sunghoon gave the door one last glance… then turned and walked away—shoulders heavy with unspoken pain, eyes colder than before.
Mr kim calmly said to Daejun "you must be tired go take some rest" Daejun politely nodded and turned away to go to his room.
Mr. Kim stood there for a moment, then turned slowly toward Minjun.
"Come with me," he said.
They headed into the study, and the door closed behind them with a soft thud.
Unnoticed, Daejun had paused just beyond the hall.
Inside the room, Mr. Kim folded his hands.
"I told you to keep an eye on my son," he said. "So tell me, what's he been doing?"
Minjun hesitated. "Sir, he keeps everything locked up. But you were right. Something's off. He barely lets me drive him anymore. Leaves alone. Only takes Daejun with him. They speak in codes sometimes."
Mr. Kim's eyes narrowed. "Anything else?"
Minjun looked hesitant, then said, "I overheard them once… Daejun was saying something about a girl. He said he's gotten close, or something. I didn't catch the name. But it felt serious."
Mr. Kim frowned. "So Sunghoon's hiding a woman from me."
Minjun nodded. "Maybe he's in love. Or maybe it's something else. But he's hiding her for a reason."
Mr. Kim tapped his desk once, sharply.
"This is your job now, Minjun. Find out who she is. Watch him. Report back to me."
Minjun bowed his head. "Understood."
Outside, Daejun's eyes burned.
So that was it. Minjun wasn't just clueless. He was planted. By Mr. Kim himself.
And now he thought Sunghoon was falling in love. But what Sunghoon felt wasn't love. It was vengeance.
Daejun turned and slipped down the hall, a shadow swallowed by silence.
The war was no longer just outside. It had already begun inside.