Ji-hoon didn't check his phone all day.
He didn't need to.
The damage was done.
The whole school had seen him stand up for Hae-won.
Hold her.
Kiss her.
Choose her.
But when he stepped into the sleek, black town car that afternoon—
Silence met him.
His driver didn't speak.
His father's assistant was already waiting at the gate.
"Master Ji-hoon," she said stiffly. "You're to come home. Now."
His stomach dropped.
The main house loomed like a threat.
Glass walls. Marble floors. Cold air.
He stepped into the lounge, where his parents sat like two statues on opposite ends of a leather couch.
His mother broke the silence first.
"We saw the photos."
She said it like a death sentence.
Ji-hoon didn't flinch.
"And?"
"You were holding her," she said, voice tight. "Kissing her. In public. With everyone watching."
"She's my girlfriend."
His father's jaw tensed. "No. She's a scandal."
"She's a person."
"A person from nowhere," his mother snapped. "No family name. No pedigree. No value. You think we don't know what her father is? What she is?"
"Enough," he growled.
His mother stood. "You want to throw your future away for some girl with trauma and thrift store shoes?"
Ji-hoon walked to the door.
"You're overreacting," his father said.
Ji-hoon turned back, voice low and deadly calm.
"She's the only real thing in my life. And if that's a problem for you—"
He glanced at the family portrait on the wall. Three smiles. All fake.
"—then maybe this isn't my family anymore."
He left.
---
BACK AT THE APARTMENT
Hae-won was curled on the couch, a book open in her lap.
She looked up, startled.
"You're home early—"
He didn't speak.
He walked over, pulled her into his arms, and held her like the world was ending.
And in some ways, it was.
"They know," he whispered into her hair. "They're going to try and break this. Us."
She looked up.
"I don't want to be the reason—"
"You're not," he said, pulling her closer. "You're the reason I'm still breathing."