The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains, casting warm beams of light across the room. Rowoon stirred awake, his eyes fluttering open to the weight pressing down on him. At first, he felt a momentary panic, heart racing, before he relaxed, realizing it was only Felix. His heart, which had been in his throat, settled as he glanced down at Felix's peaceful sleeping face.
Rowoon's gaze lingered on Felix, taking in the way his soft curls framed his face, the serene expression that belied the chaos of their recent past. His eyes then fell to Felix's lips, swollen and still tinged from their recent kiss—a memory that felt both intoxicating and haunting. Rowoon couldn't help but smile, a warmth blossoming in his chest at the thought of that stolen moment.
But just as the tranquility settled around them, the door swung open with a sudden bang, startling Rowoon from his reverie. Zain stepped inside, his pale complexion stark against the light streaming into the room. Rowoon's heart dropped at Zain's expression; it was one of urgency and fear.
"Rowoon," Zain began, his voice low but trembling, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.
Rowoon quickly gestured for him to hush, his eyes flicking nervously to Felix, still deep in slumber. "Wait—don't wake him up. Let's talk outside," he whispered, urgency lacing his tone.
Zain took a breath, eyes wide, his hands trembling as he tried to steady himself. "He's back," Zain managed to croak, the gravity of his words hanging heavy between them. The room felt electric with tension, the warmth dissipating as Rowoon's heart sank.
A mix of dread and protectiveness flooded Rowoon. Felix stirred slightly in his sleep, and Rowoon shot Zain a quick look, urging him to contain the panic that threatened to bubble over. There was no way he'd let Felix be dragged into this. Not now. Not when they had just found a moment of peace.
The atmosphere in the hall was thick with tension as Rowoon stood rooted to the spot, the echo of the words lingering around him like an unwelcome ghost. He didn't need to see who had just arrived; the voice was unmistakable—his godfather. Even without fear, Rowoon felt a heavy weight of respect for the man who had invested so much in his upbringing.
His godfather was a force to be reckoned with—unyielding, charismatic, and fiercely protective. Rowoon understood the depth of that protection, even though it sometimes felt like a cage. He had grown up under his watchful eye, learning the importance of strength and resilience. Emotions were often seen as weaknesses in their world, a lesson he had been taught time and again. Rowoon knew that to show vulnerability could mean losing everything.
In stark contrast, there was Felix, the one person who seemed to penetrate the armor Rowoon had built around his heart. Felix represented a kind of freedom and warmth that Rowoon craved but was terrified to embrace fully. He knew that if his godfather discovered the truth about Felix, the younger boy's presence in Rowoon's life would be seen as a threat. His godfather had always made it clear that emotions could be detrimental to their lives—it was a lesson etched in Rowoon's mind.
Mr Park Hae-joon, his godfather's right hand, nodded at Rowoon, his expression unyielding. "You'll be downstairs in a second?" he inquired, making it less of a question and more of an order.
Rowoon simply nodded, his heart racing as mr park turned to walk away. They all understood the stakes—the kind of man his godfather was, the fierce loyalty he commanded, and the lengths he would go to protect what he valued. If he perceived Felix as a danger, Rowoon knew he would have to act quickly. He had to find a way to keep Felix safe, even if it meant defying the very man he respected above all others.
Now caught in the invisible web of loyalty and fear, Rowoon felt the familiar conflict rise within him. How could he choose between the fear of losing Felix and the reverence he had for the man who had shaped him? The weight of that decision hung heavy on his shoulders as he took a deep breath and steeled himself for what lay ahead.
Rowoon stood at the threshold, his heart heavy as he watched Felix sleeping peacefully on the bed. The soft rise and fall of Felix's chest brought him a fleeting moment of solace, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of guilt. He felt an overwhelming urge to shield Felix from the chaos of his life—a life stained with shadows and complications he wished to keep far away from the younger boy. Rowoon leaned against the doorframe, the weight of his resolve pressing down on him like lead. "I will protect you," he whispered softly, knowing that even those words might not be enough to shield Felix from the fallout of his world.
Taking a deep breath, Rowoon turned away, instinctively moving towards his closet to find something suitable to wear. His mind raced with thoughts of his godfather—an imposing figure in both wealth and power. His godfather was known for his ruthless demeanor, a man who commanded respect and fear in equal measure. Each carefully calculated move seemed to weave a tapestry of influence and intimidation that left a mark on everyone around him. Even the most stalwart of men found themselves bending under his gaze, the air thick with unspoken authority whenever he entered a room.
Rowoon couldn't afford to keep him waiting; time was a luxury neither of them could afford. Rowoon grabbed a tailored jacket, its fabric smooth under his fingertips, and slipped it on, each motion deliberate. He could already feel the familiar knot of tension coiling in his stomach, the reminder that his godfather's presence would soon fill the room—like a storm gathering on the horizon, cold and uninvited. He wished for nothing more than to give Felix a life untouched by such darkness, but the reality was inescapable.
With one last glance at Felix, Rowoon silently vowed to keep him safe, even if it meant treading deeper into the world he loathed. The path ahead was murky, and the darkness loomed, but he would not let it swallow Felix whole. He would carry the burden himself, even if it meant walking a fine line between loyalty and disdain in a game ruled by power, fear, and ruthlessness.