The air in the stable was pleasant. Stinking, but not of deceit, as life often smells, not of betrayal and insatiable hunger for success, a feeling often smeared by inks made of greed and selfishness; in fact, the smell of manure was almost pleasant, congenial, a reminder of nature and from nature, of the place where a human being was bound to rest at the end of life and before passing into another, unexplored realm.

"Sir, the vet has arrived. There seems to be some complications, but after a thorough examination, he seemed quite positive."

Taehyung wasn't fazed when his horse Zeus neighed and shifted his weight to his right and only available hindquarters, while the left remained between Taehyung's legs and in the grip of his hands, and if he heard the stable master, he made it clear that the man could continue without disturbing the already jitty equine.

"He said it would take nearly two hours, sir. After all, Elena is quite old, and delivering isn't easy for a mare her age."

"Easy; easy!" The horse neighed again, and with his annoyed sound, Taehyung finally let out his "Shh, it's almost over."

Hands remaining steady and fingers working just as fast as before the intrusion of the stable master and impatient stallion, Taehyung continued to work on the hoof without letting his attention be distracted by newly acquired information and worries, speaking softly and almost muffled in a voice that contracted his deeper sentiment, "You are going to be the big brother, so you better behave."

The barn was quiet despite the ranging colors of what was going on, an atmosphere different from the reality of his life and the margins it carried. A haven, the safety of an embrace similar to his mother's, and he relished the feeling, exploited it limitlessly, and for once he found himself thankful to his father, recognizant of his hard work and rejoicing in his less than dignified ways, which contributed in bringing him such a solace, that ironically served to heal him from the wounds he had inflicted.

"It's about time you entrusted your farrier with this godawful task, sir; it's so much trouble, not to mention the dirt."

Ironic, really. Trust. A very big word, depicted by little tiny brushes as a word for absolute honesty and honor. A word that meant chivalry, extinguished transparency and utter confidence, and as funny as it was, he actually trusted his farrier, trusted the stable master too, and wished he could trust the people around him as well; wished he could rely on them, close his eyes and put his fate in their hands. And if life was cruel enough to send him a farrier who wasn't careful with his hooves, he wished the stable master would be generous enough to take care of them, and he hoped the rider would also be kind enough to choose firm paths instead. But the reality is that Taehyung had long since lost trust; figured it would be better to do things his way, under his supervision, with his hands, instead of leaving a window open for deceit to intrude from it.

"I'm used to that. Don't worry about it, Mr. Song." His voice remained low, but the hinge of a shallow scar remained audible, almost visible; a wince, and had the stable master known him only slightly, he would have thought it was no big deal, but he knew him so well. He knew him from the days when his height couldn't reach the mares to feed them or stroke their hair, when he could not dare approach a horse for fear it would kick him in the chest. Yes, he knew him well enough to decipher his tone, to interpret it for what it was, but he preferred to remain the neutral man he had always been. "But I would appreciate it if you would stay with Elena during this time. She needs all the support she can get, and the vet might need you, too.

The air remained icy, the voices static, the trees just as green as before, and the valleys just as high as he remembered them when he rode Zeus and escaped to where he wished it was further, a land so far away from his present and past and all the tainted relationships. A place of solace, grace, and fewer wolves, and perhaps more human beings. But everything remained the same, and his father's voice was as high in his head as it was in real life, reproving, reproachful, accusing, and he found himself gripping the saddle with extra strength, forcing Zeus to share his agony, spurring him on a little more to blot out the sounds with those of his freshly trimmed hooves and those of the waves. And in a moment of illusion, he thought the sand would be louder and delete all the sounds.

"lope!" His call was not only meant to quicken the pace. It was, in fact, also a way of expressing his anger, the words he couldn't let out, couldn't throw in a moment when his rage was really needed and at the verge of explosion. And the more he galloped at the fast pace of his stallion, close enough to the waves but also so far away from their reach, the greater his regret became.

"You destroyed me when I gave you my all and made a decent man of you. I warned you many times, Taehyung, told you that the business was never yours, that you were nothing more than a mere employee, and yet you dared to betray my trust. But believe me, I will not let it go without proper payback."

"Lope!" And the speed was not enough to bury the sounds, to hide the truth that was becoming his reality at the speed of light, with the stitching of a good tailor and an uncanny faith. And the sound of the waves crashing against the shore remained a background noise that fizzled out his cries for help and instead joined with a voice in his brain to bring back a state of madness that he had escaped from only a few days ago.

"I'd rather send you to prison and watch you rot there than leave the saddle of this company to a traitor like you. You will pay dearly for what you have done, and mark my words. I will rise again as if nothing has happened, but you will forever kneel before me like the little bastard you are. You will forever beg for my silence. I will see to that."

And indeed, all Kim Jung-Il needed to get back on his feet was a few melodramatic scenes in a wheelchair, as Jungkook had expected, and an explanation that wasn't worthy of the time of the people who were listening to it and perhaps looking forward to it on TV. It might be difficult to regain people's trust, but it was definitely easier than what he had expected during the interrogation by the financial prosecutors.

And even if the reaction of the party that had all but given up on his father to vote for another candidate was satisfying, not to mention the way he was treated by the people and the drop in his vote count, all of which seemed like the work of swift karma, Taehyung still felt like he was far from getting his revenge, far from gaining karma against the person who had brought him all this despair in the first place.

You.

"Oh yeah? But to where will you vanish, I wonder? After all, we are a married couple, so talking and discussing is inevitable."

Taehyung never expected you to stick to your wedding vows. He never expected you to show him feelings either, but he thought there was some kind of invisible bond between you, something deeper than the sacredness of the vows you made together under the proficiency of the Holy Trinity. He thought you shared the same fate, the same curses, something that would make you understand each other on a deeper level, a vow to life instead of an invisible entity, and when he figured that he was the only one candid enough to show the cards without hesitation, he realized that his father wasn't so wrong after all, and that he was indeed a fool; a stupid, naïve man who needed a better introduction to life.

"Lope!" And with the rapidity of the stallion, Taehyung learned more about life and less about love. A complexity he had trouble deciphering, but he thought it better to leave it that way, a mysterious form in its own simplicity.

"Wouldn't it be better if you learned to say thank you instead? You are always quick to reproach, quick to anger, but would you, for once, be just as fast and be thankful for what has been done for you?"

"And was it really done for me, Doctor? WOULD YOU ENLIGHTEN ME AS TO HOW IT WAS DONE FOR MY SAKE?"

No, Taehyung wouldn't forget how his employees looked shocked at the scene and how their faces turned pale. No, he wouldn't forget your rigid and uncompassionate looks, the hatred that spoke before your words, and the coldness that enveloped every syllable. Taehyung wouldn't forget the way Jungkook opened the door to his office when he heard the screams, or how he stood frozen in place, and he certainly would not forget the way you looked at him after he gave you an answer that you requested, but weren't sure you liked.

"Now we are on an equal footing, Doctor. You have used me just as I have used you. How does that make you feel? Are you finally happy? Satisfied? Elated? Please tell me that at least one of us got what he wanted."

"Extremely happy to finally be rid of you. Elated, just as you described. And I'd feel even better when you'd sign these divorce papers."

There was a laugh out of place, a scoff out of time, and a breath that didn't bring enough oxygen when he looked deep into your eyes, all the composure and self-collection redeemed back, a danger in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time, as he left just a few inches between your forms, marking it as the second time of your intimate displayed proximity ever since you got married, "In your dreams, Doctor. Dreams that you will never realize."

"Whoa!" Taehyung jumped off his horse, taking off his cap and petting the stallion as he led him to the barn before the stable keeper interrupted his route, running, "Congratulations, sir. Elena brought you a filly."

But when you reached what you called home - though it didn't feel like it after a long day at your first job, filling your duties as executive deputy and your second as a plastic surgeon, you didn't expect the lights to be on, nor the guards to be on standby, nor the cellar to be open. No, actually, it's been a long time since you came back to find a living house, a place where life has left its imprints, and you wondered, as your car pulled into the driveway, if a gang had finally conquered the place and made it theirs.

You weren't shocked when Taehyung didn't show up at your marital home that day. After all, Jungkook had warned you and told you that he would seek refuge in the presence of his stallions, and you thought he wanted to say Katarina's embrace but tried to maintain decorum instead. When he didn't show up in a fortnight, and after thorough consultation with Seokjin, you figured he really was at that damn stable in Incheon with his horses, which meant he was staying at the cabin, that cursed place.

At first it was a stabbing pain caused by a sense of misplaced guilt, something that didn't agree with justice and the course it should take; something you wished you could silence, ignore, and move on from, but it proved itself undeniable time and time again as you sewed your plan and worked it to perfection, silencing the voices in your head along the way.

It was the voice of self-proclamation, vengefulness, and the promise of regaining all that you had lost that clouded your eyes with a kind of haziness that made you believe that anything was permissible in war, even the betrayal of pledged friends and supposed spouses. It was the hatred, the grief he made you mourn and weep in the silence and darkness of cold rooms that made you think this way. The violence, the inexplicable hatred, and the illogical obligation to take part in missions that you would rather report to the police than hide behind the curtains, in the shadows of lies and well-sold fantasies.

But then the feeling turned to rage, a feeling so strong it could have set the whole house on fire, a feeling borne of both disappointment and loath, and when these two collide, it's pretty hard to tell which side wins. It was the rebuttal of freedom that made you believe that everything you did was right, well deserved, earned, and an act of heavenly punishment. It was his arrogance, his confidence and those furious eyes that made you conclude the story by saying that your version was the absolute and his was the obsolete, and that anyone looking at it now would believe the same.

But as you entered the house and were greeted by voices you didn't recognize, mingling with a timbre you knew so well, the feeling grew into something bigger, a conflagration that burned your forests, a heaviness in your guts that you could not dispel, and with each step towards the stairs, a feeling so intense assaulted you. Something so violent, unlike anything you had felt before, and you liked to call it names like relief because your guilt had finally subsided, but it just didn't take away the intensity. You also tried to call it disappointment, but you weren't sure nor willing to cast accusations.

With steady and quick steps, you took the stairs and listened carefully as the voice grew louder, clearer, and you hoped that it was all just a dream, a nightmare from which you would wake up with your dignity intact. However, the closer the steps took you, and as you stood in front of your marital room, which was never warmed by your second half, you realized that it was anything but a nightmare. That it was the reality of your life, all that fate had imposed on you, and as a gasp left your lips, you thought that fate would have mercy on you.

But it didn't. No one was there for you.

No one.

With a trembling fist, you pushed open the door, which was already ajar, collecting with the move no attention whatsoever. You hastily covered your lips with the palm of your hand to stifle your loud gasps, and with your silence, the loud voices grew to conceal your pounding heart and, somehow, your falling tears.

"Ah, please! Ah, Tae-ah! I'm there, baby. Ah-"

"Me too. Gorgeous. Fuck! So beautiful. Come for me, babe; come—ahh-"

"Taehyung!" Your voice was loud, so loud that you could not recognize it. It was tormented, hurt, deeply wounded by your destroyed and stumbled upon pride. It was insulting, humiliating, and you wished your voice could get any rougher to convey such feelings.

Taehyung didn't pay attention to your voice until he reached his climax, and you thanked God that she was the one on top. Your dignity couldn't withstand everything as it was. You couldn't bear to see him naked on top of it all. He groaned softly, a voice so guttural you thought it was almost animalistic, and when he looked at you with a damp fringe covering his dark, ambiguous eyes, a smile accompanied his words as he replied in a collected manner as if he hadn't shed his clothes and formality for the first time in front of you, as if he wasn't defiling your marriage in your conjugal room, as if he wasn't committing the unspeakable right before your eyes, you realized that revenge is indeed a poison that knows no owner. "Meet my wife, sweetheart."

And as your heart pounded with an almost unbearable ferocity so that it sat in your chest like a caged bird, he laughed and brought her to his chest. Her, that figure of a woman you could only call scum. "This wasn't the accord, Kim. This wasn't our deal."

His laughter settled near her chest, there, between her large breasts. It was loud, mocking, almost tyrannical in its pattern, but you couldn't deny that you'd never heard him make a sound so angelic before. You would have sworn it was honest if you had known him so little. But the problem here was that you knew him well enough. "What do you want me to do, wife? You were the first to break the promises, I'm just following your lead."