Ji-won managed to stumble back into the main residence only by the grace of a desperate, barely coherent lie. He had told Mrs. Park that Mr. Lu was simply delivering late-night corporate documents regarding the shipping bid, and that he had stepped out to receive them so as not to disturb Min-jun's work. Mrs. Park had bowed silently, her face an unreadable wall of professional reserve, and set the tea tray on his desk without another word.
He hadn't slept. He couldn't sleep.
By ten o'clock the following morning, the oppressive weight of his secret life felt like a physical iron band tightened around his chest. Ji-won wandered aimlessly down the grand marble corridor of the ground floor, his feet dragging against the polished stone. His sweater collar was pulled up awkwardly high to hide the fresh, tender marks Lu Sheng had left against his throat in the back of that car, and every shadow on the wall made him jump.
He was losing his mind. The sweet, warm home he had wished for in his past life—the sanctuary he had died longing for—had transformed into a high-stakes arena of paranoia. He couldn't look Min-jun in the eye. He flinched whenever Do-hyun reached out to touch his shoulder. Every act of affection from his family felt like a burning coal pressed against his guilty conscience.
As he approached the small archway leading toward the secondary butler’s pantry, the soft clatter of porcelain and the murmur of quiet voices made him stop dead in his tracks.
"Did you see his face this morning?" a voice whispered from behind the wooden partition. It was one of the junior maids who handled the third-floor linen.
Ji-won pressed his back flat against the cold wallpaper, his breath catching in his throat.
"I did," another voice replied softly. "Mrs. Park had us replace the sheets in his studio early. He didn't even touch his bed in the main bedroom until past midnight. Executive Min-jun was standing on the landing for twenty minutes just watching his door."
Ji-won’s blood ran cold. Min-jun was watching my door?
"The Kang family's precious youngest... he's been so jumpy lately," the first maid murmured, her voice laced with quiet curiosity. "He used to spend all his time in the garden or reading quietly in the lounge. Now he’s locked away, taking late-night study groups, ordering expensive art gear, buttoning his shirts up to his chin even when the heat is on..."
"It’s like he’s a completely different person," the second maid agreed, the sound of a linen towel rubbing against fine china echoing in the small room. "The masters treat him like a fragile glass doll, but if you ask me, the little master is keeping something big from everyone."
Ji-won’s hand flew to his mouth to stifle a sharp, terrified gasp. Tears of sheer exhaustion and humiliation prickled the corners of his eyes.
Even the staff knew. Even the people who swept the floors and carried the tea could see the cracks in his pristine, pure-hearted facade. His double life was crumbling from every side. Lu Sheng was tightening the leash from the outside, blackmailing him with his family's corporate survival, while his family's smothering, hyper-vigilant love was suffocating him from the inside.
Is it worth it? Ji-won thought, his head spinning as he slowly backed away from the archway, his knees trembling beneath him. Was having a loving family just a trap to make losing my freedom hurt even more?
He turned to slip away before he could be spotted, but as he reached the corner of the corridor, the second maid’s final, casual observation floated out through the open door, freezing Ji-won entirely in place.
The maid, drying a teacup, muttered to another, "He used to be so quiet. Now, he practically glows. Wonder what changed?"