Chapter 25

"I'll leave," Hee-Jun declared, a sense of urgency in his voice as he sprang to his feet, grasping Yixan's hand firmly and locking his gaze onto hers. "I'll leave. Just—just do me one favor." Was it truly the right choice to walk away now, after finally uncovering the possibility of a life together as a family? No, it felt painfully selfish, even for Hee-Jun, who had always grappled with his own emotional turmoil. In that moment, the weight of their past separation loomed heavily over him; it became starkly clear that their lives could never intertwine again without leading to more heartbreak. By honoring Yixan's advice, perhaps Hee-Jun could carve out some semblance of peace. The thought of returning to Yeon-Jun only deepened his anxiety—the notion of being unrecognized by the very person he had devoted his life to was a wound too deep to contemplate. "I promise that I'll live for myself from now on. Just please, do me one favor." Fortunately, Yixan, with her generous spirit, was willing to grant him that favor, even though it was destined to fracture him even further.

With a determined yet anxious heart, Yixan approached the door, her knuckles rapping softly against the wood. She glanced back at Hee-Jun, who stood at the far end of the hallway, his expression a mixture of hope and despair. She swallowed hard, striking the door again as she whispered, "Yeon-Jun? Are you there?" The silence that answered her was heavy and foreboding. She considered knocking one last time but hesitated, noticing that the door was slightly ajar. Taking a cautious breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room, only to find it empty and untouched. Disheartened, she stepped back outside and shook her head at Hee-Jun, who was already piecing together where he might've gone.

"Is there someone here?" Woo-San queried as he strolled past Yui-Hyuk's room. He noticed the staff behaving oddly, a clear sign that something was amiss—an unsettling occurrence whenever Yui-Hyuk became frustrated. Concerned, Woo-San approached one of the staff members and inquired about the situation. They informed him that Hee-Jun was visiting along with Yixan. Curiosity piqued, he pressed further, asking for the reason behind their visit, but the staff remained in the dark. "Do you have any idea where they are now?" Woo-San asked, his concern growing, and the staff member pointed toward the east wing, mentioning they had seen them head toward the greenhouse.

At that moment, Woo-San felt a flicker of conflicted emotions. Yui-Hyuk had long imposed a strict boundary against anyone trespassing near his prized plants, using it as a ruse to keep Woo-San at bay from where he had secreted Yeon-Jun away. Previously indifferent to the confines of Yui-Hyuk's garden, Woo-San now felt an undeniable urge to confront Hee-jun—his conflict with him over Yeon-Jun having reached a boiling point that made stepping into the greenhouse irresistible. As he moved forward, he steeled himself for what he might discover, suspecting that the reality would be as troubling as he imagined.

As Yixan and Hee-Jun approached the sprawling greenhouse, the warm glow of lights spilled out from the glass structure, casting a soft halo in the twilight. The soothing sound of water cascading from the fountain inside created an almost serene atmosphere, yet it did little to calm the tumult within Hee-Jun. With each step, Hee-Jun felt his heart pound more aggressively, echoing his rising anxiety. Despite his attempts to bury his emotions beneath the facade of mental illness, he could feel the carefully constructed walls around his feelings begin to crumble. Each thought spiraled back to the persistent guilt he harbored over Yeon-Jun's life—a life meticulously orchestrated within the suffocating confines of another's influence.

It was as if Yixan's words had unlocked a Pandora's box of emotions he had long buried, a tempest brewing where there had once been a hollow sense of control. The reality he had built around himself was starting to collapse, revealing raw and painful truths he had avoided for far too long.

He paused, his fists clenching tightly, knuckles whitening as he took a shaky, deliberate breath to regain his composure. "Whatever you say," he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, choked with unspoken fears. "Whatever you ask him, please—don't mention me. If he truly doesn't remember me, then he shouldn't have the slightest idea that someone like me exists." His words felt heavy, laced with an almost cruel harshness, but in his mind, it was the only selfless act he could offer Yeon-Jun. This path ensured his own life remained untouched by the fallout of their shared past.

Yixan nodded, her expression a mix of determination and sadness. "He will never know of this," she assured him, her smile tinged with gravity. This choice weighed heavily on her heart, marking her as the one who had sided with Sung-Hoon over Yeon-Jun, casting a shadow of doubt on her own intentions. She was making a significant sacrifice, interposing herself into their complicated web of relationships for the sake of a stranger's well-being. But beneath her altruism lay a gnawing question—was her willingness to bear the burden truly selfless, or was it a means of absolving her own guilt?

"The flowers in the picture are a stunning pot of peonies. Though they are rarely cultivated indoors, preferring the spaciousness and sunlight of outdoor gardens, dedicated plant enthusiasts have had success growing them in their homes," The AI voice echoed through the stillness of the night, blending with the soft, gentle sound of water cascading from the fountain nearby. Yeon-Jun's heartbeat quickened as he noticed subtle movements near the outer entrance of the greenhouse. He froze, straightening his posture in case it was an intruder, but his tension eased almost instantly as he recognized Yixan's familiar silhouette.

"Long time no see," Yixan said, waving awkwardly as she approached him, a hesitant smile gracing her lips. Yeon-Jun observed her change in demeanor—once effortlessly witty, her attitude had shifted to one of caution around him, a stark deviation from their usual interactions, highlighting the weight of the current circumstances.

"I thought you never wanted to come back here," Yeon-Jun sighed, the frustration evident in his voice. Yixan nodded, a shadow of regret crossing her features. She felt the same way, yet here she was, compelled by a sense of duty that outweighed her personal preferences.

"I wanted to ask you something," she said, speaking without signing, deliberately including gestures that could allow Hee-Jun to overhear their conversation. This choice only deepened Yeon-Jun's sense of distance; it felt as if she were shrouded in guilt or simply indifferent to his feelings, a notion that rubbed him the wrong way.

"Don't you know everything?" Yeon-Jun shot back, frustration bubbling over as he fished out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a message to display for her. Yixan leaned in to read, rolling her eyes at his digital banter. "That old man always beats me to it," she remarked, her tone unexpectedly sharp.

Her comment stung, and Yeon-Jun felt annoyance flare within him. "Now you're just pissing me off," he exclaimed, angrily snatching his blanket from a nearby chair and turning to leave. But Yixan's hand shot out, gripping his arm as she pleaded for him to stay and simply answer one question.

"Just a simple answer, and then I'll go," she promised, inhaling deeply before casting a glance toward Hee-Jun's shadow, faint but still visible through the frosted glass.

"Did the chairman tell you anything about your family, aside from what happened to your parents?" Yixan asked gently, fully aware that her inquiry could tread dangerously close to sensitive territory for Yeon-Jun. Her intent was twofold: to prove to Hee-Jun that Yeon-Jun was capable of facing difficult memories and to assess whether his amnesia had roots in trauma.

"No," Yeon-Jun replied, shaking his head firmly, his expression a mixture of defiance and pain. His gaze bore into Yixan, a silent warning urging her to consider her words carefully. "There's nothing more to know other than the fact that my parents were burned to death. Nothing more." The bitter scoff that punctuated his statement revealed the disbelief he felt, even as he was compelled to sign the words.

Undeterred, Yixan pressed onward. "Did he mention any other family members? Any siblings... or anyone else?" She attempted to soften her tone, but the growing irritation in Yeon-Jun's eyes told her that she had crossed into uncomfortable territory. Deep down, Yixan felt she had already deduced the answer, but Yeon-Jun had more to express than just a curt "no."

"Why are you asking me about this?" Yeon-Jun finally snapped, his hands gesturing angrily in front of Yixan's face. "Why do you act like I owe you this information? So what if he told me anything? Can I even believe him? Can I trust him? Should I even trust him? I'm basing this on a dream I had, which might not even be my memories! I'd rather sacrifice everything I have to discover the truth than take another word from that man—I don't care! I don't care if it's true or not—you all lied to me! You pushed me to the edge, forcing me to trust a stranger over the people I grew up with."

Yeon-Jun shrieked, wanting to speak but he couldn't, his face glistening with sweat as he struggled to contain the tempest of emotions swirling inside him, yet he hesitated, recognizing the potential fallout if he continued to unleash his fury on Yixan. "Leave!" He pushed her away, each shove punctuated by urgent signs that conveyed the depth of his desperation. "Leave." The sole plea entwined between his hand movements was a desperate cry for release, a yearning for someone who could share his burden. Yet, deep down, he knew it could never be her again. The trust they once had was irreparably shattered, and nothing, not even time could restore what they had lost.

"So, what did he say?" Hee-Jun's voice broke the silence, laced with an unmistakable hint of desperation. Yixan quietly shook her head, her gaze falling to the ground, revealing the depth of her unspoken sorrow. In that moment, one brother let go while the other clung on tighter. One's journey of bitterness reached its conclusion while the other's torment was just beginning. One's reality crashed down upon him, while the other's path spiraled into the unknown. One's suffering found its resolution, while the other's had only just commenced.