The mansion was quiet that night, but it was a silence laced with tension, sorrow, and regret. Hiroto stumbled through the halls, his head heavy and heart heavier, a glass of whiskey gripped tightly in his hand. The alcohol did little to dull the sharp sting of Eunji’s words, and as each sip burned down his throat, his guilt grew more suffocating.

She had refused to accept him. She had called him out for all the lies, for all the things he had done wrong. And every word she had spoken was a truth he couldn’t deny. He had failed her.

His mind spun in circles, the pain of his actions gnawing at him, relentless and unforgiving. It was his fault—he had kept the truth from her for so long, keeping her in the dark, treating her like an ornament in his perfect life. He had taken her away from the only family she knew, from the life she had once had, all for the selfish need to protect his own fractured heart.

With each step, his vision blurred more, and before he knew it, he had found himself outside Eunji’s room. The door was closed, but in his hazy mind, it felt like the only place he could be. He sank down to the floor, his back against the cold, polished wood, and buried his face in his hands. His body trembled with emotion he could no longer contain.

“Eunji...” he whispered to the empty space, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to—please, please forgive me.”

He repeated the words over and over, his voice growing hoarse, but the door remained silent. No footsteps. No soft voice of understanding. Nothing. Just the cold emptiness of his failure.

Hours passed, the weight of his guilt heavier than the alcohol that dulled his senses. He had no strength left to rise, to face the reality of his broken relationship with his daughter. He had already destroyed everything, and now, all that was left was the bitter taste of regret.

Somewhere between the apologies and the crushing weight of his sorrow, Hiroto’s body gave in to exhaustion. His head drooped, and before he could stop himself, he drifted into a deep, uncomfortably heavy sleep on the floor outside Eunji’s room.

The next morning, the mansion woke to its usual routines, but there was something different in the air. A tension lingered, thick and suffocating, as if the house itself had held its breath overnight.

Eunji, though she had slept through the night in her perfectly made-up bed, couldn’t escape the disquiet that had taken root in her heart. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel anything when Hiroto had begged for her forgiveness—because deep down, she knew it was too late. She had already built her walls too high, her hurt too deep. There was no space for him in her life anymore, not after everything.

But as she stepped out of her room that morning, she froze.

There, slumped against the door, was Hiroto. His once pristine suit was wrinkled, his face pale from a night of drinking and regret, and his breathing uneven from the alcohol-induced sleep.

Her heart clenched, but she quickly squashed the feeling. There was no sympathy left for him. Not anymore.

She looked at him for a long moment, her anger and hurt simmering beneath the surface. She had no desire to comfort him. She had no desire to acknowledge the man who had stolen her life, who had lied to her for years, who had caused her so much pain.

She turned to the staff, her voice as cold as the morning air.

“Take him back to his room,” she said flatly, her words carrying the weight of finality. “And make sure he never does this again.”

One of the maids nodded, her expression concerned but obedient. Eunji didn’t care. She wasn’t here to fix Hiroto’s problems. She had her own life to live now, one that didn’t involve him.

The servants quickly helped Hiroto to his feet, supporting him as they guided him away from her door. Eunji watched, her face emotionless, as they moved him down the hall.

Once they were out of sight, she closed her door softly, locking it behind her. She leaned against the cold wood, her heart pounding in her chest. The sadness, the bitterness, the anger—it all mixed together in a storm inside her. She had built a perfect façade, a flawless version of herself, and yet, it all felt hollow now.

She had everything she thought she wanted. Success. Beauty. Independence. But the truth remained, burning in her chest like a slow fire. She would never forgive Hiroto. And nothing could change that.

As the sounds of the mansion continued around her, Eunji let out a deep breath. She wasn’t going to break. Not for him, not for anyone.

The door had closed. And this time, it was locked.