The flashing red lights of the ambulance cut through the darkness of the night, illuminating the streets as they rushed toward the hospital. Inside, chaos reigned. Wooyoung lay on the stretcher, blood seeping from his wrists, his face pale as a ghost. Beside him, his mother, Mrs. Jung, was a frantic mess, her voice breaking as she clung to his limp hand. Saeron sat nearby, hands pressed to her mouth, fighting back the wave of nausea and tears threatening to overwhelm her.
*"Wooyoung—ah... Baby! Please wake up! Don't leave me, my son! You can't..."* Mrs. Jung cried desperately, shaking him gently. But Wooyoung didn't respond; his body felt cold to her touch.
The paramedic in the front of the ambulance focused intently on stabilizing Wooyoung as they sped through the streets. "Stay calm, ma'am. We're doing everything we can. Just stay calm," he reassured her, though the words did little to soothe her rising panic.
Mrs. Jung's breath came in ragged gasps, and hopelessness filled her face. Saeron's hand hovered over Wooyoung's, her voice a whisper as she struggled to comprehend the unfolding nightmare. " What made you feel like this was the only way...?"
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Meanwhile, back at the Jung's mansion, Mingi sat on the couch, flicking through his phone. His eyes were impassive, the incident that had just occurred meant nothing more than an inconvenience. Beside him, Mr. Jung, his expression icy, remained unbothered, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his drink. The quiet hum of the house was deafening, each passing moment like a ticking clock echoing the tension.
"He did this for attention. That's all. He knew this would get a reaction," Mr. Jung remarked coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Honestly, I don't get it. He's always been a drama queen," Mingi shrugged, glancing up briefly from his phone.
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Saeron took out of her phone and dialled her father's number and immediately it connected.
"Appa! We are at the hospital already! Wooyoung... Wooyoung tried to..." Her voice faltered, struggling to hold back tears.
Mr. Jung remained unfazed, leaning back as if unaffected by the news. "I told you, he's just trying to get attention. This won't fix anything. It's just another one of his stunts."
"Right. He'll be fine. It's not the first time he's tried something like this," Mingi added, his tone flat, uninterested.
Saeron stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists, frustration and heartbreak written all over her face. She gripped the phone tightly, her voice trembling as she tried to make them understand.
"Appa, how can you say that? He's your son! How can you not care? Don't you see how much pain he's in? He needs you! He needs us!" Saeron pleaded, her voice breaking.
But Mr. Jung simply gave a dismissive wave, as if her words were nothing more than noise to him. "I don't have time for this, Saeron. Wooyoung made his own choices. He's the one who's always been weak, always seeking attention. Let him deal with the consequences."
Saeron's breath hitched. She opened her mouth to argue, but the door slammed open with the sound of hurried footsteps. It was the doctor from the hospital. His face was grave, but not as grim as she had feared. She hissed and ended the call before turning to the doctor.
"He's alive. Barely. His pulse is weak, but we've stabilized him for now. However, I have to be clear—his emotional state is unstable. He's been through something severe, and we don't know how he'll react once he wakes up," the doctor said softly, but firmly.
"What do you mean... emotional state? What's going to happen to him?" Mrs. Jung sobbed uncontrollably, the weight of the situation crashing down upon her.
The doctor hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the door as if uncertain how to proceed. But he turned back to Mrs. Jung and Saeron with a solemn expression.
"I'm afraid... he may never be the same. His mental state is fragile. He's clearly in pain, and whatever he's dealing with, it's deeper than just this incident. He's withdrawn, unable to cope. It's going to take time. However, with proper rest and a supportive environment, he can recover," the doctor said gently.
Saeron's knees buckled as she heard the doctor's words. She grabbed onto the wall to steady herself, her head spinning. This wasn't what she had expected. She thought that once he was safe, everything would be okay. But this... this was worse. Much worse.
"How... How could he be so lost? What did we miss?" Saeron whispered, a mix of anger and heartbreak in her voice.
Saeron's voice cracked. "Can he recover... all the way?"
"With the right care? Yes." He looked between them. "But you have to be patient with him. What he did wasn't a cry for attention. It was a sign he felt hopeless and unwanted."
Mrs. Jung lowered her head, her voice trembling. "I understand, he thought he had no one."
The doctor nodded. "He needs to feel like that's not true anymore and with the right support and care, he can heal. It will take time, but you both can make a significant difference in his recovery."
As he left, the room was silent again.
Mrs. Jung's face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "We should have seen the signs. We should have been there for him."
She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Wooyoung's forehead. "Eomma's here, baby… You're not alone. Not anymore."
Saeron turned to her mother, her own eyes glistening with tears. "We can still help him, Omma. We need to be there for him now more than ever. He needs us to show him that he's not alone in this."
Mrs. Jung nodded, her resolve hardening despite the devastation in her heart. "You're right. We'll do everything we can to help him recover. He deserves that chance."
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Meanwhile, in a room somewhere miles away, San leaned back in his chair, the dim light casting sharp shadows across his face. His mind was preoccupied, but when the news reached him about Wooyoung's incident, he felt a strange amusement, not anger.
"So he's not completely dull after all," Choi San remarked, smirking as a sly smile crept onto his lips. His cold eyes narrowed as he thought about the boy—the son of Mr. Jung, the man who had sold his own flesh and blood. He was intrigued.
"Let's keep an eye on this," he said darkly to his men. "I might have some... interesting plans for Wooyoung after all."
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Back at the hospital, Wooyoung's shallow breaths echoed in the sterile room, the machines beeping softly in the background. His mother refused to leave his side, her hands clasped tightly around his, her lips whispering prayers that he would wake up, that somehow, this nightmare would end. But deep down, she knew things had changed forever.
"Please, Wooyoung—ah... please come back to me," Mrs. Jung whispered softly, her voice almost pleading as she leaned closer.
With tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she spoke again, her heart aching. "I will be here for you, no matter what happens. You are not alone, Wooyoung—ah. I promise to fight for you, just wake up already."
Saeron stood at the door, staring at her brother with tears streaming down her face, unable to comprehend the depth of what had just unfolded. Her heart felt broken, torn between anger at her father's heartlessness and the aching love for her brother who had always been so lost.
"What did you do, Oppa? Why would you do this again? Why didn't you fight for yourself?" Saeron whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
The silence in the room was thick, and the weight of the words hung heavy in the air.
To be continued....