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Seungmin fastened the pink backpack over his daughter’s small shoulders, tightening the straps just enough so it wouldn’t slide off. Chaerin turned her head slightly, her face lighting up with a bright smile.
“And then Seulya said she’s gonna ask her mom if I could get one of her ring pops,” she chattered, rocking on the heels of her tiny sneakers.
Seungmin chuckled as he reached out to fix the blue bow that had become slightly crooked in her dark hair. It wasn’t perfect—he never was great with hair—but he smoothed it out as best as he could.
“Wow, you look so pretty, Chaerin,” he said softly, brushing his thumb gently against her cheek.
Chaerin giggled at the compliment, twisting a strand of her hair around her little finger as she swayed side to side. It was a habit she’d had since she was a toddler, and Seungmin adored it. He clapped his hands together playfully, cooing at her.
“Come on, you don’t wanna be late, do you?” he prompted, extending his hand toward her.
Chaerin grasped it without hesitation. “Yeah!” she chirped.
She looked up at him with those big brown eyes, wide and full of trust. She looked like him. Not in a good way.
Seungmin hated the damn bastard.
The realization always hit him like a cold slap. The resemblance wasn’t something he could ever erase, no matter how much he wished otherwise. She had the same sharpness to her gaze, the same high cheekbones, the same way her lips pursed slightly when she was thinking. It was as if someone had taken a piece of Seungmin and a piece of him—the man he loathed—and stitched them together to create her.
He swallowed down the bitterness that rose in his throat. It wasn’t her fault. Chaerin was innocent. She was his little girl, and nothing, not even the ghost of him in her features, would ever change how much he loved her.
With her hand in his, warm and small, they stepped out of the apartment and into the crisp morning air. The sun was already climbing the sky, painting the city in gold. It was a beautiful day, the kind that made it easy to pretend, just for a little while, that the past didn’t exist.
Chaerin skipped beside him, humming a tune under her breath. It was probably some song from a cartoon she’d been obsessed with lately.
“Dada, do you think Seulya’s mom will say yes?” she asked suddenly, swinging their hands between them.
Seungmin glanced down at her. “Hmm, well, I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” he mused. “You’ve been a really good girl, haven’t you?”
Chaerin beamed. “Yeah! I even cleaned up my crayons last night, before you told me to!”
He gasped dramatically. “Before I told you to? That’s amazing!”
She giggled, leaning into his side. “I know, right?”
They reached the school gates sooner than Seungmin would have liked. Mornings with Chaerin always felt too short. A group of kids rushed past them, their backpacks bouncing as they ran toward the entrance. Parents loitered around, some chatting idly, others pressing last-minute kisses to their children’s cheeks before sending them off.
Chaerin turned to him with expectant eyes, lifting her arms slightly. Seungmin smiled, kneeling down to her level. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly for a few seconds before pulling back just enough to plant a kiss on her forehead.
“Be good, okay?” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from her face.
Chaerin nodded. “I will!”
She was already bouncing on her feet, eager to run off and join her friends. Seungmin let out a soft sigh and gave her one last pat on the head.
“Go on, then,” he said with a grin.
Chaerin grinned back before turning and dashing through the gates. Seungmin watched her until she disappeared into the crowd of students, his smile fading ever so slightly.
It was always like this—these quiet mornings filled with warmth, followed by the gnawing weight of something heavier. The past never stayed buried for long.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, exhaling slowly before turning away. Another day. Another attempt to outrun the memories that never quite left him alone.
Seungmin arrived at the café five minutes early. It was a small, quiet place nestled between a bookstore and an antique shop, the kind of spot where people came to talk about everything and nothing at all. That was what today was supposed to be—a casual conversation over coffee with Jisung. A breather.
He settled into a booth by the window, fingers tapping restlessly against the wooden table. He didn’t bother ordering yet. Jisung always insisted on picking out his drink for him. Said it was a “pleasant surprise” every time, though Seungmin had learned to expect some overly sweet concoction half the time.
The minutes ticked by, and just as Seungmin checked the time on his phone, Jisung appeared at the entrance.
Nine minutes late.
And serious.
Seungmin already knew what this was about.
Jisung approached the booth and slid into the seat across from him, his movements slow, measured. There was none of his usual carefree energy—no playful smirk, no easygoing jokes. Instead, he reached across the table, taking Seungmin’s hands in his. His fingers were warm, but there was a slight tremor to them.
“Minho called today,” Jisung started, voice quiet but firm. “He said Chan’s condition has worsened. He can’t sleep, and he’s always working.” He hesitated, his grip tightening slightly. “He’s spiraling, Seung.”
Seungmin knew where this was going before Jisung even said his name again.
“No.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. He pulled his hands away, leaning back in his seat. “No, Ji. I won’t. Chaerin won’t. We won’t.” His jaw clenched. “That man—he betrayed me. He killed my family for some obsession.”
Jisung exhaled, rubbing his hands together as if trying to find the right words. “But, Seungmin, he’s better. He’s progressed.”
Seungmin scoffed, turning his head to stare out the window. The glass reflected a distorted image of himself, and for a second, he hated the way he looked—hated the anger he could see in his own eyes.
They sat in silence, the world moving around them. A couple laughed at a nearby table. A barista called out a name. Life continued.
Then Jisung spoke again, hesitant but deliberate.
“Chaerin asked me if there was a possibility that Minho could be her father.”
Seungmin’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t react. He didn’t want to react.
“She always asks for Minho to carry her,” Jisung continued, watching Seungmin carefully. “Says she has ‘a thing for muscular guys.’”
He chuckled softly, but Seungmin could hear the weight in his voice.
“She doesn’t say it to Changbin.”
Seungmin refused to look at him. His fingers curled into his sleeves, his nails pressing into his skin.
It was quiet again. This time, for much longer.
Then Seungmin heard it—soft, broken sniffles. He finally turned his head, and his chest tightened at the sight of Jisung’s teary eyes.
!“Seungmin,” Jisung whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Seungmin stared, frozen in place.
“You’ve always done your best for Chaerin, and everyone in the group knows it. You love her to the point that you’d do anything for her. And we all would.” His shoulders shook. “Seungmin—Seungmin, I’m so sorry.”
The words barely registered because suddenly, something else did. A single thought ran through Seungmin’s head like a blaring siren.
His pulse quickened.
That man.
That man had taken his daughter.
And Jisung—his best friend—had helped him.
Chan wouldn’t hurt her. Seungmin knew that. But he didn’t care.
He didn’t want Chan meeting his daughter.
Their daughter.
Seungmin stood up so abruptly that the table shook. Jisung flinched, looking up at him with wide, tearful eyes.
“Where is she?” Seungmin’s voice was dangerously low.
Jisung swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He hesitated.
Jisung’s hands trembled where they rested on the table. His lips parted, eyes darting around the café. He didn’t want to make a scene—not here, not in public. He met Seungmin’s burning gaze and took a slow, steady breath.
“I’ll send you the location.”
Seungmin didn’t need to hear anything else. He shot up from his seat, the chair scraping against the floor, and stormed out of the café.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he ran to his car, hands fumbling with his phone. By the time he yanked open the driver’s side door, the location had already been sent. He tapped it without hesitation.
A hotel.
His pulse skyrocketed.
Seungmin threw himself into the driver’s seat, jamming the keys into the ignition. The GPS mapped out the route, a fifteen-minute drive that felt far too long. His foot slammed against the gas, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.
His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles turning white. His breathing was shallow, fast.
Chan had taken her.
That man—the man who had once been his everything, the man who had killed his parents, the man who had ruined his life—had stolen their daughter.
Seungmin’s mind reeled back to years ago, to the night everything changed.
Chan had loved him.
Intensely. Completely. The kind of love that swallowed him whole and left no room for anything else. Chan loved him so much that it had suffocated them both. It had consumed them in a way that should have been beautiful, but instead, it became terrifying.
Because love wasn’t supposed to end with blood staining the floor of his childhood home.
Seungmin could still remember that night, the way the cold bit into his skin as he stepped inside, the eerie silence that filled the air. The smell of iron.
And then—
Chan.
Standing in the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of water as if nothing had happened. As if Seungmin’s parents weren’t lying lifeless just a few feet away.
The look on Chan’s face had been unreadable. Not cold, not remorseful—just calm.
Seungmin had run. Not just from that house, but from everything.
Because it wasn’t just about him anymore.
He had found out he was pregnant shortly before that night. He had never gotten the chance to tell Chan. And after what had happened—after learning that Chan wasn’t just some overprotective boyfriend but the leader of a mob group—Seungmin knew he couldn’t risk it.
He couldn’t live in fear every day, knowing that his child would be in danger just for existing.
So he hid.
For years, he kept Chaerin away from everything, building a life far away from the man who had once held his heart in an iron grip. But three years ago, when Chaerin was just two years old—so small, so delicate, and already with a face that mirrored his own—Chan found them.
He had shown up unannounced, eyes desperate and filled with something Seungmin refused to believe was love.
“I want to be in her life,” Chan had said, voice low, careful. “Please, Seungmin.”
But Seungmin had refused.
Because love didn’t drive someone to kill.
Love didn’t steal someone’s family away in the name of obsession.
And now—
Now, Chan had done it again.
He had stolen Chaerin.
Seungmin’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight it hurt. His vision blurred with rage, but his hands remained steady as he weaved through traffic. He ignored the honks, the yells of angry drivers. None of it mattered.
Only she mattered.
The GPS beeped, announcing that he was nearing his destination. His heart slammed against his ribcage.
The hotel loomed ahead, a tall, modern building with tinted windows.
Seungmin barely threw the car into park before he was out of it, slamming the door shut behind him. His legs carried him forward before he could think, before he could stop to consider what he was about to do.
He wasn’t here to negotiate.
He was here to end this.
He was here to kill Chan.
The city lights blurred into streaks as Seungmin’s car sped along the darkened highways. Thirty minutes later, he pulled up in front of a towering skyscraper that housed the notorious hotel—a concrete behemoth rising high into the night sky. The cool evening air brushed against his flushed face as he stopped the car. Without hesitation, Seungmin reached over to the seat beside him and grasped the cold metal of his gun. He slid a single bullet into the chamber. One bullet. That was all he needed.
He flung the car door open and stormed into the building, his heavy footsteps echoing against the marble lobby. The blast of conditioned air hit him like a wave, a stark contrast to the lingering heat of the evening. His eyes quickly scanned the room until they landed on a nervous-looking receptionist behind the front desk.
“WHERE IS THE MOTHER FUCKER?!” Seungmin barked, voice thick with fury. “Where is Christopher?!” His tone was unhinged—a wild blend of desperation and rage that startled everyone in the vicinity.
The receptionist’s eyes widened, her hand trembling as it hovered over the phone. In a quivering whisper, she stammered, “R-room… 2013.” Her words, sparse and frantic, were all the confirmation he needed.
Without missing a beat, Seungmin tore from the lobby and dashed toward the elevator. His heart pounded so hard he could almost hear it over the hum of the building’s activity. There was no room for mistakes. He punched the button for the second floor—a lucky guess that now seemed painfully correct as the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
Inside the cramped space of the elevator, Seungmin’s eyes darted back and forth over the panel and the corridor beyond. He mentally prepared himself, every instinct screaming that the confrontation was inevitable. The elevator dinged again as the doors parted, and Seungmin spilled out into a corridor lined with numbered rooms. His footsteps echoed as he scoured the hallway, each room number a desperate beacon in his hunt for 2013.
At last, there it was. The number “2013” glowed beneath the flickering light. His breath hitched as he grabbed the door and, with a forceful kick, sent it swinging open.
Inside, the room was dimly lit. At first, Seungmin’s vision tunneled in on a single figure sprawled on the floor—until his eyes widened in horror and disbelief. There, lying on the cold tile, was his daughter, Chaerin. But she wasn’t the little girl he remembered from that morning. Her hair was different now, styled in a wild array of clips that gave her an almost rebellious edge. The playful innocence in her eyes was marred by confusion, and beside her stood a man whose smile was disarmingly bright—eerily reminiscent of the man Seungmin had known eight long years ago.
The man, dressed casually, had just removed his suit jacket and draped it over Chaerin as though it were a shield protecting her school uniform. He offered a soft, apologetic smile as he spoke. “Oh, Seungmin-ah, I picked Chaerin up from school—” he began, his tone warm and overly familiar.
For a brief moment, hope flickered in Seungmin’s chest—a foolish, desperate hope. But it was extinguished in an instant. His eyes, dark with barely contained fury, narrowed. Disgust contorted his features as he struggled to reconcile the man before him with the monster of his memories.
“Chaerin, get up. We’re going home,” Seungmin commanded sharply, his voice a low growl. The tone brooked no argument.
Chaerin’s eyes filled with tears as she whimpered, “But I want Appa to take me…” Her small voice trembled with a mix of longing and uncertainty.
At that moment, Seungmin’s world shattered. The word “Appa”—his beloved daughter’s word for him—landed like a punch to the gut. It was unthinkable that she could call this man by that endearing title. Rage and despair clashed violently within him, a torment that twisted every fiber of his being.
He stared at Chan who had once been his lover—a man who, in Seungmin’s mind, had committed unforgivable acts. A thousand memories and accusations surged through him: the night his parents were slaughtered, the chilling calm of Chan as he casually poured himself water, and the relentless threat that this very man, now called Christopher, had become the guardian of the daughter Seungmin had fought so hard to protect.
“Chaerin,” Seungmin’s voice quavered with a mix of sorrow and unyielding resolve, “get up. We’re leaving. Now.”
Chan stepped forward, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Seungmin, please—let’s talk about this. I only did what I thought was right for her. I picked her up because—”
“Because you think you can replace me? Because you think you can hide behind a smile and a few kind words?” Seungmin interrupted, his voice rising with every syllable. “You’re not her father. You never were. I’ve sacrificed everything to keep her safe from you. You took her away from me—stole her from me!”
The older man’s confident smile faltered as he glanced at Chaerin, whose eyes shimmered with tears. “I know you’re hurting, Seungmin. I understand your anger, but—”
“Don’t you dare speak as if you understand!” Seungmin roared, taking a step closer. “I know exactly what you are—a monster who used love as a weapon. I won’t let you poison my daughter’s life with your lies!”
Chaerin’s soft voice cut through the rising storm. “Dada…” she murmured again, the word laden with confusion and pain. Her innocent plea hung in the air, a painful reminder of the bond that was being torn apart.
For a long, agonizing moment, silence reigned. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city beyond the window and the erratic pounding of Seungmin’s heart. Chan slowly reached out, his voice gentle this time, “Chaerin, I’m trying to protect you. I—”
“No!” Seungmin snapped, the gun hidden behind his back suddenly feeling all too real in his grip. “You have already hurt her too much.”
Chan’s eyes darted to the gun, then back to Chaerin, whose face crumpled as she saw her father’s determined, pained expression. “Seungmin, please—”
“Stay back!” Seungmin shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his rage and heartbreak. “I will not let you, I will not let you tarnish her life any longer!”
Chaerin scrambled backward, sobbing softly as she clutched at her makeshift hair clips. Chan hesitated, caught between his desire to comfort her and the looming threat in Seungmin’s tone. “Chaerin, it’s okay. I’m here,” he repeated, voice trembling with regret and desperation.
Seungmin’s eyes burned with fury as he leveled his gaze between them. “No, Christopher. I’m not leaving without her. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he growled.
The tension in the cramped room was palpable. The past and the present collided violently—Seungmin’s pain and fury, Chan’s remorse and entitlement, and Chaerin’s broken plea for safety. In that charged silence, every second stretched into an eternity.
Finally, as the echoes of his own heartbeat filled the room, Seungmin took a step forward. His voice, heavy with sorrow and relentless determination, whispered, “Chaerin, come with me. Now.”
Chaerin’s tiny hands trembled as she stood up, her lips quivering with the weight of emotions too big for her little heart. She didn’t want to make her dada sad, she didn’t want to see him hurt. She didn’t understand all the words being thrown around, didn’t understand why Appa and Dada couldn’t just be happy together.
So she moved. Slowly, hesitantly, she stepped away from the warmth and familiarity of the man who had picked her up from school and hid behind the legs of the one who had raised her. She clutched the fabric of Seungmin’s pants, her small fingers curling into the material as though it would anchor her in the middle of the storm.
Her tears dripped down her cheeks, soaking into the bow that had been slightly ruined from a long school day. But she dared not to make a noise.
And yet, that alone was enough to make Chan snap.
The air in the hotel room thickened, suffocating, deadly. Seungmin could see it happen—the shift, the slow descent into something terrifyingly familiar. Chan’s body tensed, his fingers twitching by his sides. His expression was unreadable for a split second, before something dark and violent flickered behind his eyes.
He had never seen Chaerin cry before.
Never.
It was consuming him.
Chan had dreamed of this moment for years. He thought that, despite everything—despite the blood, the betrayal, the running—he and Seungmin could find their way back to each other. That they could be a family. That the past could stay buried, where it belonged, and they could start over.
He had pictured the mornings where Seungmin would wake up in his arms, kiss him sleepily, and Chaerin would clamber onto the bed, pressing a tiny peck to his lips and whispering, I love you, Appa.
He had imagined the nights, where Seungmin would let him devour him, where his body would arch under Chan’s touch, where his moans would fill the darkness like a melody.
He had imagined a life—one where Seungmin was his again, where Chaerin was theirs, where nothing in the past could touch them.
But that wasn’t reality.
Reality was Seungmin standing there, pointing a gun at him, with every intention to kill.
Chan’s face darkened.
He wasn’t looking at Seungmin anymore. The younger man barely mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was the little girl crying behind his legs. His daughter.
Seungmin saw it—the shift, the change. His grip on the gun tightened, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.
This man is a lunatic.
Chan’s eyes were black with something dangerous, something consuming, and for the first time in a long time, Seungmin thought— he could actually kill me.
But not Chaerin.
Never Chaerin.
Chan’s breath was heavy as he straightened to his full height, his aura suffocating in the small room. His voice was deceptively calm, but there was something lethal beneath it.
“Why are you so difficult, Seungmin?” he asked, his tone almost disappointed, as if they were arguing about something as trivial as dinner plans and not a battle for their daughter’s future.
Seungmin didn’t answer.
Chan took a step forward, his dark eyes flicking to Chaerin, who clutched even tighter to Seungmin’s legs. The sight of her cowering—hiding from him—made something ugly coil in his stomach.
“Look at Chaerin,” Chan continued, voice laced with something venomous. “She’s scared.”
He let the words sink in before his lips curled, his finger suddenly jabbing in Chaerin’s direction.
“Of you, Seungmin. She’s scared of you!”
Seungmin’s breath hitched, the weight of those words settling like a cold knife in his chest.
That wasn’t true.
That couldn’t be true.
But Chan knew where to hurt him. Knew exactly where to sink the blade to make it twist in the most agonizing way possible.
Seungmin’s body tensed, but he refused to lower the gun. “Don’t project your insanity onto me,” he seethed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Chan scoffed, but there was no amusement in it. Only something sharp and mocking. “Insanity? I’m the insane one?” He gestured wildly. “You’re the one who ran! Who kept our daughter from me! Who’s standing here with a gun like you don’t even recognize me anymore!”
Seungmin did recognize him.
That was the problem.
Because this was the same Chan who had killed his parents in cold blood. The same Chan who had waited for him to come home, who had poured himself a glass of water while their bodies lay motionless on the floor.
The same Chan who had loved him in a way that wasn’t love at all—but possession.
Seungmin sucked in a breath, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “Stay back, Chan.”
But Chan didn’t listen. He took another slow, deliberate step forward, his presence suffocating. His fingers twitched again, as if he wanted to reach for Chaerin, to take her away, to fix this.
“Seungmin,” Chan murmured, softer now. “She’s ours.”
Seungmin’s jaw clenched.
“She is mine.”
Chan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you’re the only one who gets to love her?”
Seungmin’s hands were shaking. His aim wavered.
Chan’s voice was dangerously smooth. “Lower the gun, Min. Let’s talk. Let’s just—”
“No,” Seungmin bit out. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Chaerin whimpered, her tiny body trembling against his leg. Seungmin felt the way she gripped onto him, the silent plea in the way she clung to his presence.
Chan’s eyes flickered to her again, his mask slipping. Something raw and vulnerable cracked through the anger. “Chaerin,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Chaerin flinched.
Chan’s breath hitched.
Seungmin took the opening.
In one swift movement, he grabbed Chaerin into his arms and bolted toward the door.
“SEUNGMIN!” Chan’s roar shook the room, and Seungmin didn’t have time to think before he ran.
Seungmin’s fingers barely grazed the cold metal of the door handle before a searing pain exploded at the back of his head. Chan’s hand had entangled itself in Seungmin’s hair, yanking him backward with a force that sent him sprawling to the ground. The world tilted, and in that disorienting moment, Chaerin slipped from his grasp, her small body tumbling away.
“Appa!” Chaerin’s voice was shrill with panic as she scrambled to her feet, her tear-streaked face a portrait of confusion and fear. Without hesitation, she ran to Chan, throwing her arms around his legs and clinging to him as if he were her lifeline.
Chan’s hardened expression softened instantly. He lifted Chaerin into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, her sobs muffled against his skin. Chan’s hand smoothed over her hair, his voice a gentle murmur as he whispered soothing words into her ear. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay.”
Seungmin groaned, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, but before he could rise further, a sharp, agonizing pressure crushed his fingers against the floor. He cried out, looking up to see Chan’s foot pinning his hand down, the weight unyielding.
“Stay down, Seungmin,” Chan’s voice was cold, devoid of the tenderness he showed Chaerin. He continued to stroke her hair, his eyes never leaving Seungmin’s face.
Seungmin’s breath came in ragged gasps, pain radiating up his arm. He turned his head, meeting Chan’s gaze, and what he saw there made his blood run cold. Chan held their daughter with the ease and affection of a caring father, but his eyes were dark, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.
“I loved you, Chan,” Seungmin’s voice was strained, each word laced with anguish. “I really did. But you ruined us. You ruined yourself.”
Chan’s expression remained impassive, his focus shifting back to Chaerin as he continued to soothe her.
The room’s heavy silence was shattered by the sudden crash of the door bursting open. A group of men, clad in dark suits, stormed in, their presence imposing and threatening. They moved with precision, two of them seizing Seungmin and wrenching him away from Chan’s grasp. They forced him to the ground, restraining him with practiced ease.
“No! Dada!” Chaerin’s scream was piercing, her small arms reaching out toward Seungmin as Chan tightened his hold on her. “Let him go! Please!”
Seungmin struggled against his captors, his eyes locked onto Chaerin’s tearful face. “Chaerin! It’s okay, baby! I’m here!”
But his words were drowned out by Chan’s commanding tone. “Get him out of here.”
The men nodded, dragging Seungmin toward the door. He fought against them, desperation fueling his movements, but they were too strong. As he was pulled from the room, his eyes remained fixed on Chaerin, her cries echoing in his ears.
“Dada! Dada!”
The door slammed shut, cutting off her screams, leaving Seungmin in a suffocating silence as he was hauled away, his heart shattering with each step.