Hiroto awoke with a start, his head pounding as if it were being split open by a thousand hammers. He groaned, his fingers brushing against the cold, unfamiliar sheets beneath him. The light streaming through the half-drawn curtains made his eyes squint, the sharp brightness cutting through the fog of alcohol that still clung to his senses.

He rubbed his temples, trying to clear the haze, but it only made his headache worse. The events of the night before seemed like a distant memory, a blur of guilt and remorse that he had tried to drink away. His mind slowly replayed the images—the long hours outside Eunji’s door, the desperate words he had whispered in the silence, begging for forgiveness.

Eunji...

He looked around the room, disoriented. His suit was in disarray, his tie loosened and hanging from his neck. He could still smell the remnants of alcohol on his breath and his skin. It was an ugly feeling, the raw, unfiltered aftermath of his emotions spilling out, uncontained and ugly.

As he sat up, his eyes scanned the room, still trying to make sense of everything. It wasn’t until he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor that he noticed the absence of something: the faint sound of movement outside his room, the usual hum of activity in the house.

Where are the servants?

The house felt strangely empty, almost eerily so. Hiroto’s gaze darted to the door, his pulse quickening as the realization hit him: Eunji.

It all came rushing back to him—the apology, the shame, the way she had coldly rejected him. He had fallen asleep outside her door, pleading for a chance to make things right. But now, she was nowhere to be seen, and the house felt like it had moved on without him.

He stood up, the dizziness making his knees buckle for a moment, but he steadied himself. His heart pounded in his chest as he crossed the room and opened the door, stepping into the hallway. The mansion was unusually quiet, the usual hum of life absent. He quickly made his way to Eunji’s room, his mind racing with possibilities.

But when he reached her door, it was locked.

A knot tightened in his stomach. He knocked gently, his voice hoarse and filled with concern.

“Eunji, please...”

No response. He knocked again, a little harder this time, but still, there was only silence. The weight of the silence was suffocating, and Hiroto felt the familiar sting of his guilt clawing at his chest. He had never felt so helpless.

He turned and walked down the hallway, passing by the staff who were busy with their morning duties, but none of them met his gaze. It wasn’t until he reached the stairs that one of the maids hesitantly approached him, her eyes downcast.

“Chairman Kwon,” she began, her voice careful, as if she were treading on fragile ground. “We... we were instructed by Miss Eunji not to disturb her this morning.”

Hiroto’s heart sank. He could tell from her tone that this was no ordinary request.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of the unspoken. “Why would she ask for that?”

The maid hesitated before answering, her words almost inaudible. “Miss Eunji... she hasn’t contacted you or the family in weeks, sir. She’s been keeping to herself, and she... she asked us to ensure you didn’t go to her room.”

Hiroto’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes briefly, as if he could block out the weight of her words. He could feel the truth beginning to settle in—a truth he had been running from for far too long. Eunji was shutting him out completely, more than ever before.

“What else did she say?” Hiroto asked, though he already knew the answer. His voice was barely a whisper now.

The maid lowered her head. “She... she told us she didn’t want to see you anymore, sir. She said that... she would never accept you. Not as her father, not as her uncle. She’s... she’s angry. So very angry.”

Hiroto stood frozen, his hand gripping the railing tightly as the words sank in like a dagger. He had lost her, and now, the truth that had always been in front of him—the truth he had refused to acknowledge—was undeniable.

He had destroyed his relationship with his daughter.

The maid moved hesitantly, waiting for some response, but Hiroto didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He was trapped in his own sorrow, the weight of his failure pressing down on him from every angle.

As the maid quietly stepped away, Hiroto’s legs gave way, and he sank to his knees, the full weight of his guilt crashing over him. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t undo what had been done.

Eunji had every right to hate him. He had lied to her, manipulated her, and forced her into a life she never asked for. He had taken away everything she knew, all in the name of his own selfish desires. And now, she had turned her back on him.

The silence of the mansion seemed deafening as he sat there on the floor, his hands trembling. What was left? Was there any way to make amends? Or had he crossed a line that could never be undone?

Hiroto knew one thing for certain now: He had lost Eunji. And there was no apology, no gesture, no words that would bring her back.