The main house of the Shingeom Doga had a study on the second floor of the central building.
However, it was a study in name only. In reality, it served as a hub for entertainment—a refuge for those looking to pass the time in indulgence rather than reflection.
Most of the banquet attendees had gathered there, fully immersed in their chosen diversions.
“Great! I won again!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, leave some for the rest of us, will you?”
“Let’s step outside for a smoke.”
“Isn’t there anything stronger to drink?”
Some huddled around the baccarat table, their voices rising in excitement as they tossed around casual remarks.
Others openly smoked cigarettes and cigars, filling the room with a haze of thick, pungent smoke.
At the bar set up in the corner, a handful of guests downed strong drinks, one glass after another, as though the banquet hadn’t yet officially begun.
The study was alive with an atmosphere of hedonism.
“… .”
Han Ji-ae, Do Gyeon-woo’s mother, wrinkled her nose the moment she stepped into the room. The acrid scent of smoke assaulted her senses.
“Ugh, the smell of cigarettes…” she muttered, her expression turning sour. “Why are they smoking indoors?”
Do Sang-jun, her husband, immediately noticed her discomfort. With a wave of his hand, he cast a protective spell, creating an invisible barrier around her.
The smoke shifted, swirling away from her as if repelled.
“Better?” he asked gently.
Han Ji-ae blinked, surprised by the sudden clarity of the air around her. “Yes… You’re the only one who thinks of these things.”
Do Sang-jun chuckled softly and took her hand, pulling her closer. His lips curved into a warm smile.
“Come on. Let’s go meet some people,” he said.
“Second uncle is over there,” Ji-ae pointed out, glancing around the room. “And second brother’s by the bar.”
“Let’s start with second brother,” Sang-jun decided. “The eldest hasn’t arrived yet, anyway.”
The couple made their way around the room, greeting familiar faces and exchanging polite words.
Those they approached welcomed them with warm smiles and offered them seats, though not without their usual hints and subtle jabs.
“I know you two are close, but if Do-seo-bang sticks too close to Dong-seo-seo, it makes certain conversations… awkward,” one relative said with a sly grin.
“That’s right,” another chimed in. “When the husbands are around, the wives can’t really talk freely. It makes it hard to form closer bonds.”
Sang-jun laughed politely, fully understanding their implication. They wanted Ji-ae to leave so they could gossip.
But he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight.
‘I know what can happen if I leave her alone,’ he thought grimly.
Years ago, Ji-ae had made an effort to connect with the women of Shingeom Doga, hoping to support him in his standing within the family. But instead of acceptance, she was met with cruel words and baseless accusations.
“She’s only valued because of her looks,” they’d whispered. “She doesn’t belong here.”
Those insults had cut deep, and Ji-ae had returned home in tears. From that moment, Sang-jun vowed to protect her from the family’s venom.
“I’m sorry,” Ji-ae murmured, sensing his unease.
“Don’t apologize,” Sang-jun said, shaking his head. “Why don’t we find a quiet spot and have a drink instead?”
Ji-ae hesitated but nodded. She had already seen everyone she needed to.
Just as they were about to leave, a familiar voice called out.
“Sang-jun, it’s been a while. How have you been?”
“… .”
Sang-jun’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t need to look to recognize the voice. It was his older brother, Do Beom-jun.
For a moment, Sang-jun considered ignoring him, but Beom-jun wasn’t the type to back down easily.
“It has been a while,” Sang-jun replied stiffly. “Why are you here?”
Beom-jun’s lips curled into a small, insincere smile. “I thought we should talk. We already discussed this over the phone, but some things are better resolved in person.”
Sang-jun’s gaze darkened.
Beom-jun was Seung-woo’s father. He had learned not long ago that Seung-woo had been bullying Gyeon-woo for years. Knowing this, Beom-jun’s presence was an unwelcome reminder of the tension between their families.
“I warned Seung-woo not to bother Gyeon-woo anymore,” Beom-jun continued. “I’m sure he got the message. Is Gyeon-woo doing alright?”
“My son is fine,” Sang-jun said curtly. “You don’t need to worry about him.”
“That’s good to hear,” Beom-jun said, his tone feigning concern. “I was worried Seung-woo’s actions might have caused… trauma. If you think he needs help, I can recommend a good doctor.”
Sang-jun’s patience snapped as Beom-jun extended his hand, offering a gesture of reconciliation.
“An apology?” Sang-jun scoffed, slapping his brother’s hand away. “If Seung-woo wants to apologize, he can do it himself. You don’t get to do it for him.”
Beom-jun frowned. “What are you trying to do here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Sang-jun shot back, his voice low and sharp. “Don’t play innocent. You’ve been feeding this tension between our sons for years. What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Hyung?”
The room grew quieter. Although everyone pretended to be busy with their own activities, Sang-jun knew they were eavesdropping.
Beom-jun’s smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. “If that’s how you feel, there’s nothing more to discuss. If you ever need help, though, you know where to find me.”
“We won’t need anything from you,” Sang-jun replied icily. “You can count on that.”
However, no matter what Do Sang-jun felt, Do Beom-jun turned his back as if he had done everything expected of him.
He walked away with the air of someone who had settled an unpleasant matter, his smirk lingering like a taunt.
But just as he was about to leave the room—
“Do Beom-jun, Sub-Lord!”
The voice cut through the low hum of murmurs in the study, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.
A man dressed in the distinct uniform of the Regulus Clan entered the room, his eyes scanning the gathered crowd until they landed on Do Beom-jun.
“…What is it?”
The man strode over to him and leaned in, whispering something that caused Beom-jun’s expression to shift. His eyes glinted with poorly concealed amusement, and he straightened his posture, raising his voice deliberately so everyone could hear.
“Well, it seems the parties involved have decided to resolve their issues themselves,” he announced, his tone laced with mockery.
“What are you talking about?” Sang-jun asked sharply, the unease in his chest growing.
“My son and your son,” Beom-jun began, pausing to savor the moment, “are sparring in the training ground right now. Curious, isn’t it?”
“…Gyeon-woo is sparring?”
“Yes,” Beom-jun replied, feigning surprise. “Apparently, Gyeon-woo was the one who requested it. I must admit, that doesn’t sound like the Gyeon-woo I know… but I suppose the information can’t be wrong.”
“… .”
“Well, then again, he is a member of Shingeom Doga,” Beom-jun continued with a chuckle. “It seems he’s finally decided to embrace his bloodline and protect his dignity. I suppose there’s a lion’s pride in him after all.”
The words stung.
Do Gyeon-woo was sparring with Do Seung-woo.
For a moment, Do Sang-jun froze, the weight of Beom-jun’s words sinking in. His shoulders tensed as a mix of shock and irritation coursed through him.
He had specifically told Gyeon-woo not to cause any trouble. Yet here he was, embroiled in a public sparring match.
‘So that’s why I felt uneasy earlier,’ he thought bitterly.
Despite his frustration, Sang-jun wasn’t concerned about Gyeon-woo’s skills. He had seen his son’s recent progress and knew he was capable.
What worried him was Gyeon-woo’s recent personality shift. He feared his son might do something impulsive—something that would escalate the situation further.
“Why? Are you worried?”
Beom-jun’s mocking voice brought him back to the present. Misinterpreting Sang-jun’s silence, he smirked and turned to address the room.
“If you head down now, you might catch the duel. It should be entertaining, especially for those of us who are bored. Who wants to watch Seung-woo and Gyeon-woo spar?”
“Oh, that sounds fun!”
The drunken voices in the room quickly chimed in, and one by one, people began standing.
Beom-jun’s intentions were clear. He wanted the sparring match to be a spectacle, one that could humiliate Gyeon-woo and diminish his standing within the family.
But for that to work, Gyeon-woo would have to lose.
“Everyone’s going, Sang-jun,” Beom-jun said with feigned concern. “Surely you’ll come too?”
“…I should go,” Sang-jun replied reluctantly.
“Good choice,” Beom-jun said smugly. “But let’s not interfere, alright? Let the boys settle this themselves. We’ll end it with this duel—no need to drag it out further. You understand, don’t you?”
“… .”
Sang-jun didn’t respond. He knew arguing further would be pointless.
At that moment, a thought crossed his mind.
‘This might be an opportunity.’
If Gyeon-woo could defeat Seung-woo in front of everyone, it would be a turning point. The same people who mocked his son might finally begin to see him in a new light.
It wasn’t a bad scenario.
With that in mind, Sang-jun decided to follow the others out of the study.
But as he turned to leave, he remembered Han Ji-ae, who had been speaking with someone across the room.
“Ji-ae, let’s go,” he called. “It’s a good chance to see—”
His words caught in his throat as she approached, her face pale and her expression grim.
“Seung-woo bullied Gyeon-woo?” she asked, her voice sharp.
Sang-jun froze.
“What are you talking about? Why does it sound like this is the first time I’m hearing it?”
“Ah… honey…”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Her lips curled into a strained smile, but her eyes burned with quiet fury.
Sang-jun felt a chill run down his spine. That smile wasn’t a smile—it was a warning.
“I—uh…” He stammered, his mind racing. “I can explain, Ji-ae…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her tone calm but dripping with accusation.
‘I’m dead,’ Sang-jun thought, swallowing hard.
Instinctively, he reached for a pet name, a tactic he often used to soften her anger. But this time, it didn’t work.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she repeated, her voice colder now.
Sang-jun trembled, realizing there was no escape from the storm that was about to hit.
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