The sheets were warm as Haneul curled up underneath the top cover. A swell of lethargy surged through his chest and found no desire to wake up. Exhaustion overwhelmed and weighed his limbs down like shackles. Last night wobbled back and forth in a warped stretch as flashes of glaring coy eyes and dark midnight wings wavered in the imagery. It’d probably take a good few hours of wakeful sentience before he’d recollect everything and in the moment he didn’t want to. 

He could not recollect how he got into bed, but perhaps it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.

Another swell, and then he felt pleasantly warm, but that probably wasn’t because of the blankets. 

His smart watch beeped and he checked the nightstand to see a little text icon blink. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers along the touch screen to reveal a text message from Secretary Yun. It shimmered at him brightly. Don’t come into work, I’ve canceled your meetings for today. Your father will visit at twenty before eleven. 

A frown grew along his face and he groaned. Right. He rolled out of bed and stretched slowly, shaking away any lingering panic that remained in his fingers, toes, and in his throat. There was no time for anxiety.

The weight of a ghost knife rested in his hand.

He ignored that. 

As he walked down the hall, his feet pattered along the floor. He was almost certain that Hrafn heard him regardless if he was trying to be quiet or not. A grimace passed through him and he wondered if the alien had slept any. Of course he himself fell asleep as if there wasn’t a care in the world—and honestly he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to just sink into rest like that—but he didn’t know what sort of distress he’d left the warlord in. His gut sank when he noticed the lacking presence of Hrafn in both the kitchen and the common area. 

Going to start the coffee pot, he wondered if Hrafn had gone up to the rooftop. He couldn’t remember which security guard was currently on shift. But he noticed that the coffee pot had already been set, awaiting already with a carafe of fresh brew. As his gaze swept sleepily through the kitchen, he also saw a plate resting innocently on the countertop. He stared a little dumbly at it only to further notice a sticky note haphazardly taped to the cling film that covered it.

Hrafn’s rigid handwriting was instantly recognizable. “Please eat.”

Pulling the cling wrap up, Haneul uncovered the plate to reveal a pair of fried eggs and four pieces of toast. 

Questions about eggs being considered cannibalism for the alien aside, Haneul did one more lookover of the dining and living rooms—confirming that Hrafn wasn’t there—and picked at his food. He was pleasantly surprised to find the eggs were well seasoned and even light and fluffy. Had Hrafn been watching cooking shows in his free time? Breakfast was a quaint welcome. They had a chef for a reason but if Hrafn had picked up even basic culinary skills…he wondered what else the alien had learned during his stay. Languages were a given. But he wondered if perhaps things like music or other arts had also been among those things.

He placed his empty plate in the sink and began his search for the alien. The balcony was empty. And so was the guest bedroom that Hrafn occasionally holed himself in when he needed to be left alone. 

It wasn’t until Haneul realized the study light was on that he found his guest. Hrafn sat at the desk, head and arms resting on the desktop. His ears fluttered as if acknowledging Haneul’s approach, but he didn’t actually move. His shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm and his eyelashes relaxed over the round of his cheeks. Hrafn was soundly asleep. A star chart was pinned beneath his forearms and elbows, and a series of notes in the Bjarnsta script told Haneul that his guest had been diligently plotting out more possible courses home. The endless research about star maps seemed to render little to Hrafn since Earth did not have the in-depth knowledge he already knew. And oftentimes he seemed to fall short on how to even begin his return. Haneul wondered if last night was one of those times.

His heart throbbed and he felt an uneasy lurch in his stomach. Had last night really been so unnerving to Hrafn that he immediately resumed his departure plans? Not that Haneul could blame him…but they’d seemed to reach some sort of understanding between one another. That their companionship held some heavier meaning than just that of a stranger helping another. More so than even acquaintances or friends. He thought—

From his bedroom, his smart watch chimed with a phone call and he hurried away from the study to mute the tone. Ha-Rin. The little screen read. He sighed and searched for wherever his phone wound up yesterday. Finding it in the cushions of the couch, he sat down to take the call.

"Haneul! How are you doing?" 

He could hear the chatter of a morning crowd and a rueful fondness touched his chest. She’d continued their college routine of going to coffee houses in the mornings before work. 

"Good morning to you too!" He said, a painful smile on his face. "Thanks for taking Charles."

"You don't have to thank me for that, I like him more than you anyways."

He almost barked out a laugh, only to cover his mouth before he roused Hrafn. "Good to know."

"Is…is everything okay?" She tried, this time a little softer. "Your dad, he isn't gonna…y'know…"

"Oh he is, Secretary Yun gave me a headstart to prepare.”

“Dammit.”

“Hrafn told you everything, then. That happened last night, that is.” He bit his knuckles, trying to keep his leg from shaking anxiously. 

There was a pause before Ha-Rin said, “Only what he deemed necessary. Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“No.” He shook his head before looking down at his knees. “I don’t.”

She sighed. “You really need to talk to someone, man. I’m not condoning what she did—what she did was beyond wrong—but at this point you should expect it from the leeches your family keeps in its company. You need professional help.”

“Family NDA,” he croaked out. “And please. Can we stop?”

“Of course your family has a non-disclosure…” Ha-Rin sighed on the other end before piping up quietly. “Well, regardless of what your dad does to chew you out, we’ve got plans for this evening. So don’t let him corral you into something dumb okay?”

“Plans?” Haneul sagged, a weariness weighing on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like these plans. Hrafn thought of them.”

“...Hrafn did?”

She laughed teasingly. “Oh so your boyfriend makes a suggestion and suddenly you’re curious.”

“He’s not,” Haneul swallowed thickly. “I mean we’re not—”

He remembered the earnest look in Hrafn’s eyes from last night and then the dejected cast of his gaze as he looked anywhere other than Haneul himself.

“Relax man, I’m just teasing.” She continued without catching the reason for the pause. “In all seriousness though, he did suggest our little outing for tonight. So be prepared, I’ll swing by with the van around eight tonight.”

“Van?”

“Hrafn’s coming with.”

“We can’t take him where he’ll be seen, you know this Ha-Rin.”

She said, “This spot is very safe—kinda out of the way. You’ll both love it. Promise.”

He felt the headache from the other day threaten to resurface with a vengeance. He had an inkling of where they may go, but he didn’t want to think too much about it. As best as he could, he forced it back. “I’ll take your word for it.”

After his phone call, Haneul tiptoed into his room. He showered and freshened up, picked out a plain blue suit and white button down, and stared at the man in the mirror. The man was tired and exhausted, dark circles beneath the gilded crest of his irises. After a sigh, the reflection smiled dashingly and winked. Spruced up and clean, he hardly seemed like someone post-mental breakdown. That would have to do. There was one thing that spoke to Chairman Kim, and it was control. If Haneul appeared even the slightest out of place as he had last night—he wasn’t sure if anything he could say would convince his father. But a put together heir who could make an argument for his case, now that was something his father could not ignore. Regardless of what happened with Elizabeth Ahn. 

His smartwatch beeped. 

Open your door before I have your security guard open it for me. You’re lucky I’ve had time to calm myself overnight. The text chirped pleasantly. 

Ever a joy, father, Haneul thought as he opened the front door.

His father stood grim, face pinched and brow furrowed. Behind him the security guard watched them with no hidden amount of bemusement on his face. Haneul had seen it many times before from a number of associates and peers. His family was an amusement for many, and the thought of a rich father scolding a brat-son for some trivial rich person’s problem tickled the fancy of most. A darkness loomed over Haneul’s face and he ushered his father in before shooting the guard a look. Needless to say, the security guard was unbothered. Chairman Kim signed his paycheck. It was out of Haneul’s hands on whether he’d be relieved of his services or not. 

The moment the door closed, his father sagged. He seemed older all of a sudden—he seemed his age. An old man just as trapped in this facade as his son.

“We’ve talked about this before, son.”

“You weren’t there,” Haneul bit back, turning away before his face could give him away. “Do you want coffee? There’s a fresh pot.”

“Please,” his father said, slipping his shoes off at the door and making his way to the kitchen bar counter.

It was a shame that he and his father got along so well behind closed doors, Haneul thought. He poured out the last of the coffee that Hrafn made and slid it across the counter top to where his father had sat at the bar.

His father took the mug gratefully and took a sip, releasing a built-up exhale after a moment. “Your grandmother chose Elizabeth Ahn. She and Mrs. Ahn are close and have gotten to talking over the past few months.”

“Of course grandmother chose her, seems quite her type. Manipulative and overbearing,” Haneul growled.

Chairman Kim nodded. “She was not my first choice either.”

“She’s not my choice, dad.” Haneul leaned against the counter, forcing himself to count backwards from ten. Control. His father liked to see that he was in control. He could make a better argument that way.

“I know. Truly, I’m sorry. The family would not approve of a partner you’d choose, Haneul, not with your…” Chairman Kim paused, floundered a moment, before he coolly added, “Preferences.”

“The fact that I prefer men aside, had the family given me another year or two—I would have found some chick they’d like, and someone I could’ve at least tolerated.”

“Me potentially kicking the bucket before your grandmother has everyone on edge. You’re the only one to inherit the enterprise, everyone else has either married into other families or have already separated.”

“My monopolized eligibility is an oversight by the family, father. The fact that grandmother has scared away everyone who could’ve taken over, her miscalculations should not be my burden to bear.”

“I agree.” His father took another drink of coffee. “And I’m buying you the time I can, Haneul. I’m working as hard as I can to appease the old bat. But I cannot buy you freedom. She wants a Kim-Ahn heir from you. That at this point is non-negotiable.” 

Haneul clenched his fist. 

His father said nothing for a moment. “Were…you weren’t hurt last night, were you?”

“No,” Haneul ground his teeth. “Luckily there’s someone who genuinely cares for me, enough to make sure I was actually okay.”

The brusque response deflated Chairman Kim quickly. He pressed his hand to his heart, his expression flickering to something said and pained for just a moment before it was neatly swept back under the mask. “I’m glad someone was there.”

The air in the penthouse was stale and sodden, and Haneul had to struggle for air. He closed his eyes just for a moment and returned to counting, this time forward to ten. Phantom claws grazed tenderly along his back and offered the briefest of comforts. 

“You could’ve been there. If you cared, your health would get better,” he said quietly. “Stop sleeping with random women, stop smoking, stop drinking. Stop pushing yourself over the edge.” Stop pushing yourself so they can stop pushing me.

“I’m tired, son.” His father said. “I’ve been playing this game far longer than you—and I’ve had far less outs, comforts and saving graces than you. Your mother wanted this company to succeed, she was far better at this company management business than myself. Because of her, I’ll try to see H&H grow as best as I can…but I’m tired.”

Haneul’s gaze immediately snapped back to his father.

“I’m so so tired.” His father smiled. “I miss her.”

It had been a long time since he’d last seen his father’s smile. Chairman Kim’s entrepreneur smile, sure, that was a constant and confident thing at the company. But his father’s smile was always a little lopsided, dipped just a bit as if a sadness weighed on the upper lip, and pressed the smallest of dimples to the corners of his mouth. He didn’t want to get better. Perhaps there was no ailment other than the fact that he didn’t wish to be well.

Haneul’s breath hitched. “Dad…”

“I’ve always wondered if the lifetimes it took our family to get here—if all of that was worth the price of our sanity.” Chairman Kim stood, brushing off his coat. “To walk away and live with the guilt of wasting the hard earned fortunes of those long gone…is it worth it?”

Haneul couldn’t answer—was he supposed to? Was he supposed to know?

“I wouldn’t blame you, son.” His father walked back to the door and slipped his shoes on as quickly as he had removed them. “If you were too tired of it as well.”

“You can’t leave, father,” Haneul added sternly, something tight in his chest. “And I won’t leave you either.”

“I’ll be here to buy you time.” He slicked back his hair, squared his shoulders, and stood straight and rigid. Chairman Kim’s eyes were far colder. “That’s all I can do as long as we continue to play our part.”

In their moment of parting, he rested his hand on Haneul’s shoulder. It was warm and gentle, a heavy weight that offered comfort, that offered stability. A distant memory wavered in his head of his father holding him secure as his grandmother screamed at him for letting her precious daughter pass. Haneul had been wailing, not sure why he was blamed for the disappearance of his mother—his father had anchored him and argued with grandmother for the first and last time. 

There was one miniscule quirk of lips that ruined the heavy practiced look of displeasure before the mask returned. Chairman Kim turned and icily excused himself from the penthouse.

And with that Haneul’s father was gone.