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[Poison ] - [Brent Faiyaz]

Reaching the neighborhood, Iseul flashed Sunghoon a bright smile as they pulled into the familiar streets. She stepped out of the car, her excitement palpable as she headed toward her mother's restaurant. The moment she entered, she was met with warmth, her parents' faces lighting up at the sight of her.

"I can't believe the police gave you back the keys!" Iseul exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her mother in a tight hug.

Miseok, her father, smiled contentedly, the weight of the past few days lifting from his shoulders. "Mhm, they're back in our hands now."

"Thanks to Sunghoon, the man dropped the case," Iseul added, her voice filled with gratitude.

But as she spoke, her gaze shifted to her brother, who was standing a few feet away, his focus fixed on the plant near the window. He wasn't just looking at it—he was gazing at it, as if lost in thought, his expression distant.

"What's with him?" she wondered aloud, her curiosity piqued.

"Sohee, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with teasing concern.

But her brother didn't even flinch. He remained transfixed, staring at the plant in the corner of the room, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Look," she tried again, "I'll play LoL with you. You know, to get your mind off whatever's bothering you."

Sohee only gave her a fleeting glance before returning to his deep thoughts, like the world around him had stopped. Iseul's eyes widened in realization as she leaned forward, her voice teasing but affectionate.

"Wait a minute... you were like this in elementary school when you found out your English teacher was married. Who broke your heart this time?"

It took a moment, but then Sohee finally spoke, his voice a mix of frustration and confusion. "Yeji," he said softly, almost to himself. "She sees me as just a friend... says we're... different or something."

Iseul snorted, unable to resist the jab. "Well, she's right, though."

"So what if we're different? I had it all planned out—she and I, we were supposed to get married, grow old together. Perfect, right?"

Iseul froze for a second, her teasing smile fading. She glanced over at their mother, who was eavesdropping from the kitchen. Miseok sighed, rubbing her temples. "Sohee doesn't even think about work, does he? If he ever brings a girl home, I'll have to take care of her...," she muttered under her breath, watching the siblings from across the room.

Sohee continued, completely oblivious to their mother's disapproval, lost in his idealized future. "We would grow old with that same secret of ours," he mumbled, as if the thought alone was enough to keep him hanging on.

In an instant, their mother was at the table, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What secret?" she demanded, her tone sharp.

Sohee jerked back, as if realizing too late that he'd said too much. He stood up abruptly, attempting to flee the conversation, but Miseok was faster. She grabbed his arm before he could escape.

"Sohee," she said, her voice low and steady with authority, "spill it. What secret?"

Iseul watched the exchange, her brow furrowing. "Mom, it's code red—he's hiding something."

Sohee hesitated, then averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "It's just a small secret... It doesn't matter right now," he mumbled. "We've got the restaurant back, right?... Yejin will get her karma eventually."

Miseok's eyes narrowed even further, her anger rising as she processed his words. She clenched her fists, muttering to herself. "Did you just say Yejin?" she asked, her tone icy.

Sohee, still avoiding her gaze, stayed silent, and the tension in the room thickened, leaving everyone on edge.

Upon hearing her son's words, Miseok's face twisted into a scowl. Without another word, she shot up from the table and rushed out of the restaurant, her mind set on confronting Yejin once and for all. The moment she reached the house in front of hers, she saw the door ajar — it was the perfect opportunity to settle things.

In a heartbeat, she barged inside, and the tension in the air grew thick. Yejin was inside, already in the middle of something, and when she saw Miseok, her eyes widened for just a second before they narrowed into a glare.

"You," Miseok growled. "You think you can get away with what you've done?"

Before Yejin could respond, the two women were at each other's throats, literally. They lunged at each other with primal fury, their hands grabbing fistfuls of each other's hair, pulling with such force that it seemed like they might tear each other apart. Their children, helpless, rushed in to try and pull them apart, but it was a mess — an absolute disaster.

Yeji stood there, frozen for a moment, watching the chaos unfold. Her disappointment in Sohee was palpable as she shot him a look. But Sohee, unsurprisingly, just shrugged, offering no excuse for his mother's actions.

The fight raged on, each slap and tug of hair like an explosion of pent-up frustration. It was as if years of grievances were finally coming to the surface.

But the chaos didn't last for long.

A single word from Sunghoon cut through the madness like a blade.

"Enough."

His voice was deep, commanding, and ironclad. The instant those words left his mouth, both women froze, their hands releasing each other's hair as if controlled by an unseen force. They were left panting, eyes wide, faces flushed with rage, their disheveled hair a testament to the madness they'd just unleashed.

Without another word, Sunghoon sat them both down in Miseok's restaurant. The tension in the room was suffocating, as the two women sat there, silent, their hair a tangled mess.

Sunghoon's presence alone had stopped them cold — not because he was angry, but because he exuded an aura of power that demanded obedience.

For a moment, everything was still. Then, with his arms crossed and his gaze unwavering, Sunghoon finally spoke. "We're not doing this," he said, his tone much calmer now. "This stops now. All of you, sit and talk. But no more fighting."

His words hung in the air, and for the first time that day, the two women had no choice but to listen.

Sunghoon stood in the center of the room, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the situation with a calm but firm authority. His posture was straight, but there was an undeniable tension in the way his hands clenched by his sides.

Yejin, caught off guard by his sudden move, tried to hold onto her composure, but her façade began to crack. She looked around the room as though trying to escape the weight of the eyes that were now on her, but there was nowhere to hide.

Her first attempt to apologize came out so quietly, it was as though the words were caught in her throat. "Sorry," she muttered, her voice barely audible. The silence that followed her weak attempt made it clear that no one took her words seriously. She sighed, a deep, almost defeated sound, as if she could already sense that everything had spiraled far beyond her control. "I made a mistake. It happens. We're all human."

Miseok, standing at the far end of the room, clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her eyes, which had once been filled with hope and trust, now only reflected pure frustration. She took a step forward, her voice growing sharper with each word.

"You play with my earnings like they're nothing, and you expect me to just sit here and listen to you without judging? Do you really think that's enough?" The fury in her voice was palpable, and it was clear that her patience had been stretched beyond its breaking point.

Yejin flinched, but no words of defense could come. Her apology, her feeble attempts to explain away her actions, seemed insignificant against the gravity of what had been done.

Her husband, equally disappointed, added his voice to the growing tension. "A simple apology won't fix this. It's not enough. You have to take responsibility for the mess you've made."

Sunghoon stood motionless, his expression hardening as he absorbed the weight of his family's words. He didn't raise his voice, but the authority in his tone was undeniable. "And that's why my mother will start working here. She will pay for the damage she's caused."

Miseok's eyes lit up at this revelation, the gleam of satisfaction clear in her expression. She hadn't expected this turn of events, but she was pleased nonetheless. There was something almost poetic about the idea of Yejin, once so untouchable, now having to face the consequences of her actions by working in a place she had always looked down upon.

The sudden realization hit Yejin with the force of a truck. Her face paled, the color draining from her cheeks as she frantically tried to find an escape. "Please," she pleaded, her voice cracking as she clutched at the fabric of her own dignity. "Don't make me work here. I didn't mean for this to happen... You can't do this."

But Sunghoon was resolute. His face remained impassive as he reached into his mother's bag, yanking out her wallet with a swift, decisive motion. He pulled out her cards, taking them from her without a second glance. His actions were swift, efficient, and final.

"Consider it a step toward redemption," he said quietly, as though the matter had been settled long before his words were even spoken.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence that followed.

As Sunghoon was about to step into his car, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. He didn't have to look to know it was Iseul—he could tell by the way her footsteps were measured, her presence distinct. He turned slightly, feeling her eyes on him as she took in his form with an almost disapproving look.

"You're just going to leave like that?" Iseul asked, crossing her arms. Her gaze lingered on him, challenging him. "You won't say anything?"

He exhaled a sharp breath and looked away, trying to ignore the weight of her words. "Iseul, what are you talking about?"

Iseul, never one to hold back, fanned her chest dramatically, trying to deepen her voice in mock seriousness. "I do not allow such mistakes at my office," she said, rolling her eyes for emphasis. "And yet here you are, acting like nothing happened. Your mom set up a trap, and your logical response to that was to scold me?"

"That doesn't change the fact that it's your mistake."

"Oh, doesn't it?" she snapped, her voice tinged with annoyance. "And it doesn't change the fact that you hid the truth from me. I knew something was off, and now I find out it's your mom?"

"She's my mom. I can't change her."

"You always say that," she said, her tone softening just slightly but still filled with bite. "Even during our marriage. God, I remember when we went ring shopping, and she took the money to buy herself a bracelet."

"Oh, so my mom is always wrong, and yours isn't?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation. "Remember when I took off that watch, and she wouldn't talk to me for a month?"

"My mom is sensitive, of course, if I buy my son-in-law a watch, I'd expect him to wear it all the time."

Sunghoon let out a low, frustrated sigh. "No, my mom—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his voice trailing off as the weight of the argument settled on him. He realized just how pointless this was. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "Iseul... what the hell are we arguing about? The past should be left in the past."

Iseul paused for a moment, her hand rising to touch the nape of her neck, as if the tension in the air had finally caught up to her. For a brief moment, the fire in her eyes dimmed, but only for a second. She nodded, the words hanging between them without needing to be spoken aloud.

"Yeah, you're right," she said quietly, her tone soft but still carrying a hint of that sharp edge.

Sunghoon didn't say anything else. Without another word, he turned and stepped into his car, the door slamming shut behind him. As he drove away, the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance, leaving both of them to grapple with their unspoken emotions.

Night had quietly draped itself over the city, casting a comfortable silence that contrasted with the fierce energy inside Sunghoon's apartment. The glow of the screen illuminated their faces, casting fleeting shadows as the two friends locked into their usual rivalry.

Sungchan's grin was cocky, his confidence palpable as he leaned back in his chair, lazily watching Sunghoon's every move. "Are you ready to lose, sir?" His voice carried that familiar arrogance, an unspoken belief that victory was as inevitable as the next breath.

Sunghoon, unfazed, didn't even look up from the screen. "I always win," he replied smoothly, his voice low, each word wrapped in certainty.

His eyes never wavered from the game, but it was clear: he wasn't just playing to win. He always won, because that's who he was. A winner.

The game ended. Victory was his—again. Sungchan slouched in defeat, throwing his arms up dramatically, his laugh rich with playful frustration. "Man, why are you so good at this?"

Sunghoon, still grinning, reached for the beer he'd already prepared, pouring it with the same precision he'd applied to the game. "That's because I never give up on what I want," he said, his voice an easy drawl that hid the intensity underneath.

Everything he touched, he bent to his will. He didn't lose. Not in the game, not in anything.

Sungchan let out a chuckle, taking the beer Sunghoon handed him. The two of them, side by side, shared a comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the clink of their bottles as they clinked them together. Then, as if the weight of his words suddenly hit him, Sungchan's face softened.

The playful atmosphere dissipated like smoke, replaced by a more somber tone. "Oh, by the way... I'm sorry for the trouble I caused for the company today. It was my fault, but Iseul got the short end of the stick."

The moment her name hit the air, Sunghoon's hand tightened around his bottle, a flicker of something—anger, frustration, possessiveness—sparking behind his eyes.

"You guys are very close, lightly," Sunghoon asked , his voice casual, but his eyes sharp. He was trying to gauge, trying to measure something between the lines, between the spaces where words didn't reach.

Sungchan had giggled—an uncharacteristic, almost shy sound. He was suddenly a little less the confident, cocky figure that Sunghoon was used to. It was as though a different version of him had emerged, the one that wore his heart a little more on his sleeve.

He shuffled over to the couch, sinking into it like he'd been waiting for this moment, this admission. He looked over at Sunghoon, a look in his eyes that wasn't quite so carefree anymore. It was something deeper, something more vulnerable.

"Man, I like her so much."

Sunghoon stared at him, trying to read his friend's face, but the words... those words struck him like a sharp, unexpected gust of wind. I like her so much. His mind reeled for a moment, and then he answered, his voice steady, but there was a hardness underneath it.

"You'll be unhappy with her. You're from different backgrounds."

Sungchan just shrugged, the corners of his lips curling up, but it wasn't the playful grin Sunghoon was used to. It was soft, almost sad. "I don't care," he said, the words filled with something resolute. "I just want to protect her. She looks like she got hurt really bad from her past... that she has walls around her. I want to protect her. I want to keep her safe from any harm. I want her."

The room felt too small suddenly, the air thick with an unspoken tension that neither of them knew how to deal with. Sunghoon's hand gripped the edge of his glass, the cold surface a reminder that this moment wasn't something he could brush off. Sungchan's words hit harder than he would have expected. He could see it—Sungchan, with his idealistic sense of heroism, wanting to fix her, protect her, but it wasn't that simple.

"You don't understand her, Sungchan. Not really."

But Sungchan just shook his head, eyes never leaving the floor, as if trying to understand something inside himself. "Maybe not," he admitted. "But I want to try."

The conversation lingered in the air, but by the time it faded, it was late—too late to keep their thoughts at bay. Sunghoon couldn't sleep, though. His mind wouldn't quiet down. His thoughts kept circling back to Iseul, her walls, her distance.

Sungchan wanted her. But Sunghoon... he needed her. He needed her like he needed air, like he needed oxygen to breathe.

It was a hunger, deep and gnawing. The thought of losing her—of someone else protecting her, wanting her—felt like a slow burn. But the problem wasn't that he was afraid of losing her. No, the problem was that she had become his need, the one thing that kept him grounded, the one thing that made sense in a world that sometimes didn't.

As the clock ticked on and the night deepened, Sunghoon sat there in the silence, the weight of his own feelings pressing down on him. He couldn't shake the sense of longing, the quiet ache that settled deep in his chest.

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spoiler: the kiss scene is in chp 35 🤭🤭(i think)