Two weeks had passed since the incident, and the hospital room had transformed from a place of chaos to one of tense quiet. The once sterile smell of antiseptic was now familiar to Wooyoung even in his unconscious state. Every breath he took felt like a struggle—not just physically, but emotionally. But today—today, something was different.
The soft rays of the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a faint glow over Wooyoung's face. His eyes fluttered open, the blurriness of the world around him slowly coming into focus. His body felt heavy, his limbs weak and he coughed violently attracting the mother and daughter duo. His mother was here. Seoyeon was here. Maybe… maybe he hadn't lost everything after all.
"Wooyoung—ah… Wooyoungie, you're awake. Thank God. I—" Mrs. Jung's voice trembled with emotion.
Mrs. Jung reached out, her hand trembling as it brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. Her voice cracked, and she couldn't stop the tears from falling. After everything, her son had survived. She hadn't realized how badly she needed him to be alive until that moment.
"Oh my god, you're really awake. We've been waiting… We've been waiting for this moment," Saeron said, her voice filled with relief, almost breathless.
Saeron's hands found Wooyoung's, squeezing them tightly as if to assure herself that this wasn't just a dream. The weight of the past two weeks had been unbearable, but now, now there was a glimmer of hope. She leaned forward, her forehead touching his gently.
"Omma… I should've died… I should've let go. I'm sorry… I'm sorry for everything," Wooyoung whispered, his voice barely audible and hoarse.
His words were so soft and filled with sorrow that he couldn't look at them. He couldn't face the love they were offering. He had failed them. In his eyes, he was broken—no longer worth saving.
"No, no, don't say that, Wooyoung! You don't have to apologize. You're here! You're alive. That's all that matters. I love you; we all do!" Mrs. Jung frantically exclaimed, her tears falling freely now.
She took his hand in hers, holding it tightly against her chest, as if to anchor him to the reality of his family's love. There was a desperate edge to her voice, as if she was pleading for him to understand.
"Please, Oppa, please don't say that. You're everything to me. You're everything to Omma and I. You're not a burden. You never were," Saeron added, her voice filled with fierce tenderness.
Wooyoung only closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as if the love they gave him was too heavy, too overwhelming. He couldn't bear it. The pain inside him was consuming him from the inside out.
"I'm nothing but a failure. I should've ended it. I don't deserve any of this… any of you," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, broken and hopeless.
His voice was so empty, so filled with defeat. He had never felt this alone, even in a room full of people who loved him.
"No! You don't understand. You're my son. I will never, ever let you go. We will get through this together. Don't do this to yourself, Wooyoung—ah. Please don't think of suicide anymore!" Mrs. Jung cried out in anguish, pleading with him.
Saeron leaned forward, her voice filled with sorrow but also with strength. She was determined not to let her brother slip away into the darkness.
For a long moment, Wooyoung didn't speak. He just stared at the ceiling, his mind filled with a hundred voices, a thousand thoughts, none of them his own. His body was tired, but it was his heart that was breaking.
"I'm sorry... I can't be who you want me to be," he managed to say, barely audible and filled with regret.
Mrs. Jung shook her head, not even understanding the words anymore. Her hands caressed his face as she tried to comfort him, to make him understand the depth of her love. She didn't care about his flaws or mistakes; he was her son.
"I don't need you to be anything, Wooyoung. I need you to be alive. Please. We've been through so much… I can't lose you. Not like this," Mrs. Jung sobbed softly, her voice breaking.
"Oppa, I need you. Omma needs you. We need you here with us. We're not giving up on you. You're not alone. Don't you dare leave us," Seoyeon added, her tone firm yet loving.
The room fell silent, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily in the air, neither family member knowing how to break through the wall Wooyoung had built around himself.
Then, just as the silence became unbearable, the door creaked open. The nurse entered, her expression stiff and almost formal.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to prepare for Wooyoung's discharge today," the nurse said, glancing at the family.
The words cut through the fragile moment like a knife. Mrs. Jung's head snapped up, panic flooding her features.
"What? No, please. He's not ready. He still needs time! Please, he needs more time!" she pleaded, frantic and desperate.
The nurse hesitated but remained professional. "I'm sorry, ma'am. The paperwork has already been signed for his discharge."
"Who signed it? Who made that decision? He's not well! He can't—" Mrs. Jung began to protest, disbelief etched on her face.
Before she could finish, the door opened fully. A man entered, dressed in black, his presence commanding. Choi San.
"I'm here to take him," San stated coolly, devoid of any warmth.
Mrs. Jung froze, her blood running cold. The name alone sent her into a panic.
"No! No, please, you can't take him! He's not ready. He's fragile! He needs time!" she said, shocked and trembling with fear.
Seoyeon stood frozen beside her mother, fear creeping into her voice. "Please! Just let him stay here. He's still so weak, so broken! He's not ready!"
But San didn't move an inch. He looked at them as if they were insects beneath his gaze, his expression as cold and indifferent as ever. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled a set of papers from his coat and handed them to the nurse.
"I'm afraid he's already been discharged, as per the request mine and his father," San said, almost mocking.
The nurse took the papers, her hand shaking as she glanced at them. It was clear that San's influence was unquestionable. The doctor, guards, and hospital staff stood frozen, unsure of how to proceed.
"Your son belongs to me now. It's time to take him home," Choi San stated, looking down at Mrs. Jung with a cruel smirk.
Mrs. Jung and Saeron exchanged a desperate look, the weight of their helplessness crashing over them.
"No… no, not him. Please…" Wooyoung's voice was quiet, broken.
San walked toward Wooyoung's bed, his gaze cool and calculating. He bent down slightly, lifting Wooyoung's chin with a firm touch, forcing the boy to meet his eyes.
"We finally meet ,rose. You're not dying until I say so," Choi San said, his voice like ice.
Wooyoung felt his heart race. His eyes widened with confusion, fear, and a growing sense of helplessness. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew one thing: his life was no longer his to control. It never had been.
San smirked as he settled in the chair beside Wooyoung's bed, crossing his arms and watching the boy with unsettling amusement.
"Let's see how long you can hold onto that fight in you, Wooyoung. You're mine now," he said coolly.
"I'll give you all the time you need to say your goodbyes with him," San added and stood up before walking out of the room.
.
.
.
The sun cast long shadows through the hospital corridor, its golden rays creating a stark contrast against the white walls. Inside Wooyoung's room, an atmosphere thick with tension lingered. Mrs. Jung sat beside her son, gently wiping his forehead with a damp cloth, her heart aching with a mix of hope and fear. Saeron sat by the window, arms crossed tightly, her gaze distant and troubled.
The door creaked open, revealing Mr. Jung, his expression unreadable. A folder was clenched in his hand, a clear sign that more than just a visit was on his mind.
"Yeobo, you're here. Woo just woke—," Mrs. Jung began, rising to her feet, her voice filled with relief that quickly turned to confusion as she noticed the grim look on his face.
"I'm not here for that," Mr. Jung interrupted, his voice cold as he extended the folder towards her.
Mrs. Jung took the folder, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened it. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the words swam before her: Custody transfer papers? You're giving up your parental rights?
The finality of those words hit her like a blow. "You're really doing this?" she whispered, her voice thick with disbelief as she glanced from the papers to him.
"It's for the best," Mr. Jung replied, his tone unyielding. "He'll be under Mr. Choi San's care now."
Wooyoung, lying in bed, turned his head away, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. The weight of his father's choice settled on him like a shroud.
"Appa, how can you do this? He's your son!" Saeron's voice trembled as she stepped closer, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself, as if trying to ward off the chill of betrayal.
"He's the useless one here," Mr. Jung said dismissively, avoiding eye contact as he turned his gaze away from the emotional turmoil erupting around him.
Mrs. Jung felt rage surge through her. Unable to contain it, she slapped Mr. Jung across the face, the sound echoing in the small room.
"How dare you! After everything, this is how you treat your own child?" she exclaimed, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
For a moment, silence enveloped them. The reality of what was happening hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Her breath caught as she struggled to comprehend the depths of his decision.
"You... You can't be serious. You're giving him away? He's your son, Junghyun!" Mrs. Jung's voice quivered, each word laced with anguish.
Saeron, who had been quietly observing, exploded with anger. "How can you? How can you do this to him? He's still your son, no matter what!" Her voice rose, driven by the need to confront the incomprehensible.
But Mr. Jung stood firm, unmoved, as if he hadn't even heard her. His eyes were distant, fixed on something far beyond the walls of the hospital.
"This is the only way to save what's left of our family, Saeron. There's no room for sentiment," he said flatly, his resolve unshakeable.
Mrs. Jung grabbed his arm, desperation bleeding into her voice. "Junghyun, please. Don't do this. He's your son! Our son! You can't just sign him over like he's a piece of property!"
Her words seemed to bounce off him, lost in the cold detachment that surrounded him.
"I'm doing what needs to be done. You'll understand someday," Mr. Jung replied, pulling away from her grip as he turned towards the door.
"Junghyun!" she called after him, the plea breaking from her lips as he stepped out of the room but he did not look back.
Once he had left, the silence swallowed the space where his presence had lingered. Saeron stood frozen, her body taut with disbelief, while Mrs. Jung slowly sank into the chair beside Wooyoung's bed, her body trembling with quiet sobs.
Wooyoung, who had absorbed every word, turned his gaze to the window. The betrayal echoed in his mind, a dark melody that twisted in his chest. He had always felt the distance between himself and his father, a coldness that had only grown over the years. But hearing those words, feeling the sharp finality of his father's decision—it cut deeper than he had ever imagined.
"Why... why doesn't he love me, Omma?" Wooyoung whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of his own heart breaking.
Mrs. Jung wiped her eyes, her own heart aching for her son. "I'm so sorry, Wooyoung. I... I failed you. I couldn't protect you." Tears streamed down her face as she pulled him closer, seeking to provide comfort that felt woefully inadequate.
In that moment, Wooyoung closed his eyes, feeling the crushing weight of despair. His family, his father's betrayal, the coldness of the world surrounding him—it all threatened to overwhelm. He yearned to escape, to disappear from it all.
Outside, the air was thick with tension, the impending goodbye palpable. A sleek black car waited near the hospital entrance, its engine humming softly, almost ominously, as if echoing the unease that clung to the night. San's men loomed like shadows beside the vehicle, impassive and watchful. Wooyoung was still inside, but the reality was clear—soon, he would be taken.
Inside, Mrs. Jung and Saeron clung to whatever remnants of hope they could muster. Pleading with the hospital staff for just a little more time but their efforts were in vain. The papers had already been signed; Wooyoung was leaving. No one dared to oppose Choi San's wishes.
"Please, just a few more days. He needs time—he's barely awake, you don't understand!" Mrs. Jung implored the nurse at the front desk, her voice quaking with desperation.
"Please, we just need more time with him. Just a little more time, please!" Saeron added, her own voice breaking as she fought to keep her composure.
The nurse shook her head sympathetically but resolutely. "I'm so sorry, but the papers have been signed. I cannot risk my job... Wooyoung is being discharged."
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and just then, the door swung open. A man in a sharp black suit stepped in; he was one of Choi San's men, his demeanor unfazed by the emotional storm swirling around him.
"Young Master, let's get ready to go. It's time," he stated coldly, delivering the cruel reminder that the moment they all dreaded had arrived.
In an instant, Mrs. Jung's heart shattered. She lunged forward, only to be blocked by the stoic guard. "No! Please, don't take him! He's my son!" Panic flooded her voice, visceral and raw.
But the man did not move, his expression impassive. Saeron gripped her mother's arm, her own face awash with tears, her voice a frantic whisper. "Omma, we have to do something! We can't let him go like this!"
But even as she spoke, the futility of their situation enveloped them like a dark cloud. The door opened and Wooyoung was brought out of the hospital, pale and hollow, as if the very light of hope had been drained from his spirit. He looked at his mother and sister, but there was no emotion left in him—just a profound emptiness. He entered the car and sat beside San who smirked at him evily
As the car's engine roared to life, Mrs. Jung and Saeron rushed after it, their hearts pounding with urgency as they called out his name, their voices echoing in the stillness of the evening air. They reached the end of the driveway, but San's men stood firm between them and the car. One of them seized Saeron, holding her back as she struggled against their grip.
"Yahh! Let go of me! Wooyoung! Oppa! Please don't leave us!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation.
But it was too late. The car sped off, its tires screeching against the pavement, the sound gradually fading into the night. Mrs. Jung collapsed to her knees, paralyzed by grief, unable to breathe as the reality crashed down upon her. Her son was gone, spirited away by a father who had chosen everything but him.