EPILOGUE

Six Months Later...

"Nou mine—mine—"

WAAHHH WAAAHHHH-

Why this papers aren't fit in this damn file...I sigh, try—again—to force the stack of papers into a folder. But they crumple under my fingers, edges tearing.

"Mama, look—Aera crying again!"

I sigh, rubbing my temple.

"Give her the toy back, bub."

"But it's mine!"  little feet stomps to me..

I kneel, trying to straighten the documents. Everytime I smooth one out—they drag another across the floor, leaving crayon scribbles over everything. All wrinkled from tiny, sticky fingers.

Waaahhhh WAAHHH

Soft tugs on my dress with each whine:

"Mama—""mama—""MAMA—"

"Aish" I slam the folder shut. "GO PLAY WITH HER!"

The little hands freeze. Slowly, the grip loosens.Stuffed kangaroo hits the floor with a plop.

Sigh.I close my eyes.

—His lip quivers, eyes dropping to the kangaroo on floor.

A beat of silence.

Then, the tears come. His head bows, shoulders shaking.

Christ. Not this again.

He becomes so sensitive recently.

I glance around—My other sweetbun, lying in the playpen, gnaws at her pacifier blissfully now—

I pinch the bridge of my nose. The papers can wait.

I crouch in front of him.

"Bub—"

He turns away, wiping tears off his chubby cheeks roughly. Sigh.

I pull him close, planting kisses on his plump cheeks.But that pout won't fade."Is my bun mad at me?" I ask softly.

Instantly a sob and face burying in my neck and nod slowly.

"Aww, my baby" I pick him up, shutting the files.Walking back to the playpen—I rock him gently.

"Why are you mad at me, bub?"

A sniffle.

"Y-You lov her mol, Mama‐" he mumbles, voice thick with betrayal.

Aera coos at us from the playpen, pacifier bobbing as she kicks her tiny feet, oblivious.

I press a kiss to his temple, adjusting him in my arms. "You think I love her more than you?"

He nods against my shoulder—fierce, certain—and sniffles wetly.

I shift– sit on the floor beside the playpen, placing him on lap. "Bub, listen‐" I tilt his chin up, his watery eyes meet mine. "You were my first."I kiss his forehead "You were the one who made me Mama."

A beat. His lower lip wobbles.

I kiss his nose. "No one—not even Aera—can take that."

He blinks, lashes clumped with tears. "Listen—" I kiss his nose. "When Aera was in mama’s belly, you know what you did?"

He blinks.

"You hugged me every night." I tap his chest. "And Said 'my baby' like a little prince." His pout softens. "And when she cried first time? You ran to sing her your ABCs."

Aera squeals, kicking her feet as if to agree.

He peeks at her. "...But she bloke my race car."

I bite back a laugh. She already has a stuffed toy’s ear in her mouth.

"Its okay bub, I'll buy you another one"

A small hiccup —The stubborn pout trembles.

"So mama don't lov her mol?"

My chest tightens. Again. Like every day since she born.Aera gurgles in her playpen, drooling on his discarded stuffed kangaroo.I cup his flushed cheeks."Baby, I love you both—"

"Nou!" He shakes his head fiercely, "You always cally her! Not me!"

I press my forehead to his. "Bub, you're a big boy now. Mama can't carry big boys—"

"Nou!" His tiny hands frame my face, deadly serious. "You strong." His whisper is fierce, absolute. He flings his arms around my neck, burying his face against me like he's trying to prove it—so I'll have no choice but to believe him.

But maybe—maybe he's right.

My arms tighten around him. I strokes his back, his breath hitches against my collarbone.

"Okay, Okay, my prince." I murmur into his hair.

Silence.

I shift him—His legs lock around my waist instantly.Aera squeals, waving her chubby arms from the playpen as if demanding her turn.Lucas peeks at her over my shoulder— "Mama now cally me" My lips press into his temple to hide the laugh. My little emperor.

Slowly my neckline shifts, tiny fingers creep in—sneaky as a thief.

"Bub!" I catch the wrist mid-sneak. He freezes.

"What are you doing?"

He gulps, then—slowly—the devilish bunny grin spreads. "Just lil' bit, Mama?" voice drips honey.

I fix him with the Look. "No. Big boys don’t drink Mama’s milk."

His lower lip juts out. "Why?—She can have it! Then why not me?"

I sigh. "Because she's a tiny baby. And you–" I tug his shorts up as they’ve slid down his hips, "you are her big, strong brother"

His nostrils flare. A tiny foot stomps. "...But milk is yummy."

I resist rolling my eyes. "She’s still small, bub. Aren't you the big strong brother?"

His eyes sparkle—then bobs his head,  eyes lighting like he’s just been knighted. “Big brother!” He repeats it like a mantra, puffing out his chest.

I press a kiss to his curls. “Now come on, we have to get ready and go, hm?”

The second his feet touch the floor, he’s off—little socks slipping on hardwood as he races for his shoes.I watch him struggle with the Velcro, tongue peeking out in concentration—my chest aches. He's growing so fast—faster than I can keep up.

Sigh.

I lift Aera, her legs kick restlessly against my hip.

"Shhh, shh..." her tiny fingers twisting into my hair. “Shh, bun,” I carrying her to the changing table. Her diaper’s soaked—of course— I peel it off.She kicks her chubby legs triumphantly, giggling when I blow a raspberry on her belly.

Lucas barrels back in, one shoe on backward. “Mama! Look! I—” He freezes, nose scrunching. “Ewwww. Aera stinky”

“Language.” I mutter, wrestling her into a fresh diaper.

She stares wide eyes. Trying to grab me.

A loud CRASH.

I turn—Lucas stands frozen, eyes comically wide, his soccer ball rolling away as my makeup scatters across the floor. Compact powders shattered. Lipsticks rolling under the couch.

"Baby!"

He blinks—then swiftly scoops up his ball and bolts out the door.Aish...This boy.Aera squeals, kicking her feet like she's cheering her brother’s escape.

I change her in record time, hoist her up, barely manage to shove my feet into shoes while juggling the files. She nestles against my neck, drooling happily on my collar.

"Lucas—"

Silence.

I quickly glance around—no Lucas in sight. "Lucas—LUCAS!"

Silence.

"Lucas—"

A muffled giggle. Then tiny footsteps.

He wobbles out of the kitchen, a trail of mud left in his wake. already covered in something—cookie crumbs? Jam? We haven’t even left and he's already filthy—but i don't have time.

"Come, fast!" I hiss, adjusting Aera higher on my hip. He latches onto my dress instantly, swinging from the fabric like a little monkey as i hurry out.

The car waits—engine running.

I fumble with the gate lock, keys slipping—

"Mama, up- up—" he demands, arms outstretched.

Aish.

"How can I— You’re both—"

His lip quivers. Dangerous.

"Okay okay—" I bend, scooping him up in one arm—Aera in the other—files crushed between my elbow and ribs.

I stagger toward the car like a pack mule.Lucas beams, triumphant, kicking his muddy shoes against my side. Aera squeals, grabbing fistfuls of my hair.

The driver leaps out, eyes wide. "Ma'am—"

"Just—open the door," I hiss.

Somehow, we collapse inside—Lucas instantly scrambling over seats, Aera trying to lick the window, my files now crumpled beyond salvation.

I exhale.

The engine hums to life.

Lucas wiggles stubbornly, crawling onto my lap despite the excess space."Bub, sit on your seat—"

"Nou" he declares, planting himself firmly on my thighs.

I sigh, shifting Aera in my other arm. She's dozing, drooling peacefully against my shoulder.

"Where to, ma'am?" the driver asks, glancing through the rearview mirror.

My fingers tighten around the files—edges crumpled.

"To...To Jeon's estate."

_______________________________________

The car rolls to a stop in front of the imposing gates.

I step out, Aera snug against my chest, the files clutched tightly in my other hand. Lucas tumbles out after me, immediately spotting the familiar faces waiting—

Wooshik adjust his new glasses. Jisun's arms crossed. Minho and Louis standing at attention. They bow in unison.

Lucas squeals and bolts toward them.

Minho catches him mid-run, and scoops him up “How are you, little master?”

Lucas pouts dramatically. “Fine. But mama not love me.”

Instantly every single head snaps toward me.Minho gasps theatrically. “Oh? Is this true?”

I clutch Aera tighter.Lucas nods solemnly. “Mama always scold me…love sister mol.”

Minho bounces him in arms. “Oh, don’t worry, little master. We will love you.”

And just like that, he’s whisked away inside—carried off like royalty while the others shoot me amused glances.

I sigh, adjust Aera’s drool-covered onesie. Wooshik stepping forward, taking the files from my stiff fingers.

"Welcome, Mrs. Jeon" he murmurs.I nod. The door looms ahead—dark wood, iron hinges.

He gestures silently—Come.

I follow his footsteps..

Lucas darts ahead, his laughter bouncing off the walls— I freeze.

The same hallway. The same walls. The same damn staircase.

My lungs lock.

Aera shifts in my arms, whining softly— tiny fingers twist into my blouse, grounding me.

Wooshik pauses, glancing back. His glasses catch the light.

"You okay?"

I swallow- Lucas's distant giggles ring out.

My fingers tremble around Aera’s tiny frame as i move forward—

The grand hallway stretches before—polished marble, towering ceilings, the same dark wood paneling that haunted my dreams for months. Lucas's laughter echoes, tiny shoes slapping against the floor.

Air catches in my lungs. The walls seem to tilt—

The cold grip around my wrist that night.The way my own breath fogged against these same walls as I ran.The taste of iron in my mouth.

“Mrs. Jeon—”

I snap out—pulse thrums in my ears. The staircase looms—the very one where I’d stumbled, running—

"Mama"

I inhale sharply. Aera stirs against my chest.Lucas whirls around at the end of the hall, cheeks flushed. “Mama! Come see!” He points excitedly toward the study—the doors slightly ajar.

The doors always kept closed.

Wooshik steps aside, giving me space—but his gaze is wary. Waiting.

The house hums with silence. My feet move before my mind catches.

"Mama—!"

I snaps back—tiny feet skidding to a halt in front of me. "Look! Uncle Minho give me this!"

He thrusts his hands up—a massive yellow Macaw perched awkwardly in his grip, wings flapping wildly.

"Oh! It’s—it’s beautiful, baby—"

The bird squawks—launches itself—soars down the hallway in a flurry of feathers. Lucas squeals, chasing after it.

"Aish— Don’t run—!"

"Mrs. Jeon."

My spine locks.Slowly, I turn.Wooshik stands there, that same nerdy, hesitant smile. "Your room is prepared. If you want to—"

"No." The word comes out too sharp. I swallow. "I..I don’t want to rest."

A beat. His glasses glint.

"Just....finish the process quickly. I have to leave."

His smile fades— slightly. Somewhere down the hall, Lucas’s laughter rings out, mingling with the Macaw’s squawks.

"But—Mrs. Jeon–" He frowns. "You just arrived and—"

"Um yeah, Lucas has school tomorrow."

A pause.

His eyebrow quirks. "But... tomorrow is Sunday."

A beat.

My throat goes dry. Aera stirs in my arms, tiny fingers curling against my neck.

Silence stretches.

I force my voice steady "I...I have to leave quickly—Can you please arrange everything now?"

He hesitates—then nods. "Of course." He adjusts his glasses nervously. "Everyone's waiting this way." He gestures toward the grand hall.

I nod—he moves front—my shoes clicking against the marble floor as I follow him.Aera jostling against me. The hallway seems longer than I remember, every step echoing. Lucas's distant laughter mixes with the bird's squawks, fading behind us.

The doors loom ahead—heavy oak, slightly ajar. Light spills through the gap.Behind the house looms—its shadows stretching too long, air too thick.

Wooshik stops and give me the files.I gulp- Take files, it feel suddenly heavier.

The doors groan.

We step inside.

The massive table dominates the room—surrounded by men, their faces hardened by years of underworld dealings. The entire syndicate, gathered.

They rise—chairs scraping—and bow.

I move to the head of the table. Wooshik rushes to pull out the chair, but I shake my head. "It's not needed—"

"But—"

"Please, sit down everyone."

They obey—awkward, hesitant—eyes flickering between me and the sleeping Aera curled against my chest.

The silence is suffocating.

I adjust Aera gently, then meet their gazes.

"Today... I'm here for something very important." My voice doesn't waver. "Something that concerns every single one of you."

The air shifts—tension coils tight.

Across the table, Wooshik’s fingers twitch. Louis’s jaw clenches. Minho leans forward—waiting.

They're holding their breath.

I exhale.Then— lay the crumpled files on the table with soft thud.

"As you all know—the power and authority of this empire...is in my name."My voice cracks, Aera’s warmth seeps into my trembling hands

A beat.

"So I’m transferring full rights—every asset, every decision, every ounce of ownership over Korea and France’s underworld—to them."

I point at—Wooshik, Jisun, Minho. The rest.

A gasps ripple through the room.

Then—silence.Deafening.

One scoffs. "So now...staff will run the underworld?"

Another slams his palm on the table. "This is impossible! The Jeon bloodline has ruled for generations—servants don’t inherit thrones!"

Minho steps forward, face pale. "Mrs. Jeon—please, we can't take this responsibility—"

"You already have"

The room stills.

Aera stirs with tiny sigh.

One growls "This empire has never bowed to servants—Only Jeon blood carries the title!"

I pull a single, folded document out of the files.

"Mrs.Jeon—" Jisun stammers "this is just—"

"You’ve been running it for months." I straighten. "Now you’ll do it officially."

A chair screeches—Louis stands "And what about Lucas? He’s the heir—his father’s blood—"

"He’s three." My voice cracks. "He’ll understand —when he’ll be old enough for all this."

"You think he would’ve let this slide?" someone mutters.

I glance at them."Do you see him here?"

The silence chokes.

I sigh, running my fingers over the authorship papers spread across the table. The weight of generations stares back at me.

"Mrs. Jeon," Wooshik stammers, adjusting his glasses nervously, "We're just...here to follow orders. How could we possibly rule this entire empire?"

An older member leans forward, his scarred hands clasped. "Look, I understand you're overwhelmed. But this empire belongs to Jeon's blood alone. Just wait until Lucas comes of age—we'll keep everything running smoothly until then."

Another nods in agreement, his gold tooth glinting. "This is inheritance, not some street-level workshop where anyone can participate."

Murmurs of disagreement ripple through the room.

My fingers tighten around the papers, heart clenches.  My babies—my innocent, precious loves—would never touch this empire. My eyes sting—They are my babies not some monster's heirs. And this filth will never touch them. Not now. Not ever.I will not let their innocence be tainted.

"No way this is possible!" One says "We can't just pass the entire empire to Wooshik, Minho, Jisun, and the rest of them!"

More join the dissent, shaking their heads, slamming their fists against the table."They don't have the experience, They're just staff!"

"Jeon blood should rule—it's tradition!"

The chaos erupts.

"The underworld doesn’t operate on sentiment!" A scarred lieutenant slams his fist down. "You can’t just hand it off like some charity—!"

"You can’t just rewrite centuries of tradition—!" A grizzled capo slams his fist down.

Minho pales, stepping back. "Mrs. Jeon, we can’t accept this—"

Wooshik’s glasses slip down his nose. "The syndicates will revolt—the alliances."

"This empire breathes on Jeon blood," A serpent-eyed underboss hisses. "You hand it to staff? It’ll be carved up by vultures by sunrise."

Jisun nods "Half those men would slit our throats now if not for—" his gaze flicks to the security cameras, the silent guards lining the walls—loyalty bought with his legacy.

Minho sighs  "Mrs. Jeon, I—I can’t accept this."

"It’s sacrilege" another snarls. "Jeon blood built this empire—!"

Jisun pales. "We’re foot soldiers, not kings—!"

Wooshik’s glasses fog with nervous sweat. "The factions will never bow to us."

The oldest member stands, voice graveled with decades of violence. "Boy or not—Lucas is Jeon. The streets will demand it." His eyes drop to sleeping Aera in my arms. "...Both of them will."

I grit my teeth.

Wooshik stares at me "we can't possibly rule an empire...This is not the way..."

"We're just caretakers until the heir is old enough..."

The documents lie between—smudged with Aera’s drool, Lucas’s jammy fingerprints.

I gaze down at Aera—her tiny face serene, oblivious to the storm swirling around. Pacifier bobs gently with each breath. My fingers tighten on the papers.

"I have already decided what i have to do,"

Silence drops.

Every eye locks onto me—

"My babies and I...Will never take responsibility of this empire."

A collective gasp ripples.

Disbelief, shock, some already simmering with fury.

I pull the documents closer, "This estate. Every business. The entire ownership of  underworld— I'm transferring it all to Wooshik, Minho, Jisun...and rest of— J-Jeon's men."

Wooshik staggers back  "Mrs. Jeon—"

"And this is final."

I take the pen—click it open—signing my name in swift, final strokes across every blank spaces.

My vision blurs.

This is it.

No more ties.

No more connection to him. To this empire.

Never again.

The documents lie signed.

Aera sighs in her sleep, tiny fingers curling against me.

I slide the papers on the table—flat, final.

A beat.

They don’t move. Just stare—shocked, frozen like statues carved from loyalty and disbelief.

I don’t wait.I adjust Aera in arm, pick up the crumpled files and turn.

Walk.

Out of the hall. Out of his world.

"Mrs. Jeon—wait!"

Footsteps echo behind me—heavy, urgent—but I quicken my pace.

"Mrs. Jeon—wait!"

I don’t stop.

The grand hall fades.The villa stretches around—once suffocating with tension, now eerily calm—sunlight slanting through tall windows, dust dancing in golden beams. Everything so calm… too calm.

No growling men in suits.No hushed threats behind closed doors.

No shadow of him pressing down on every breath—

Just peace.

Silence.

My throat clogs. Eyes burn—but I blink fast.

“Lucas!” I call softly, walk down the hallway “Lucas?!”

Nothing answers but echoes.

"Lucas—"

Wind through an open balcony door… leaves rustling far below…

"Mrs.Jeon please—hear us out!" Their voices behind me, uneven “We’ll protect everything—you don't have to run like this!”

I walk faster- step into the sunlit corridor.

"Mrs. Jeon—please listen! This isn't right—you can't just walk away like this!"

I spin sharply "Where is Lucas?"

They freeze "Little master? He—he was just here—I thought he went with Minho—"

Minho rushes past us "Lucas!"

Jisun calls from a side room—"Check upstairs!"

I look around."Baby—"

Still no answer.

The villa feels too big, too hollow. Empty hallways, silent doors, shadows stretching like claws.

I hold Aera tighter—she stirs but doesn’t wake.

I gulp—step forward.

"Lucas…?"

No giggle. No tiny footsteps chasing me. No “mama!”

Nothing.I start walking—up the grand staircase, one hand gripping the railing, heart pounding in throat—

The hallway above—the same one from two years ago.The very spot where I ran barefoot—

The voice thundered behind me—

"You dare walk out?"Where I clutched trembling Lucas to my chest and whispered "Shhh… Mama’s here."

Him standing at the top of these stairs—black suit soaked with blood not his own—Me sobbing on this floor, begging for mercy—That night—the silence—His hands on me...

I freeze mid-step—

Tears blur everything.Breath comes fast and shallow.Aera whimpers softly against my neck—I can't move. Can't blink.

At the end of the hall—the nursery door open slightly…

Light spills out.

"B-Baby—"

I force my feet forward—up the stairs, along the hallway, checking every room—

My body moves on its own.Footsteps—quiet, trembling—on polished wood.

"Lucas"

My feet move—like they remember. Like they were pulled by some invisible thread.

"Luc—" Words dies in throat.

In front—The wooden door looms. Tall. Heavy.

The office.

Heart hammers—loud, fast—like it wants to escape.

My hand reaches out. Shaking.Fingers curling around the cold brass doorknob.

A beat. Then— twist.

The door creaks open.

Silence spills out. Then—the smell.

Whiskey. Leather. Cigarettes.

I step inside—the office is untouched. Frozen.Sunlight slices through drawn blinds,

Whiskey glass on desk—half-full, long gone stale.Cigarette burns on ashtray—one still smoldering faintly, like it was lit yesterday.

Everything is exactly as it was.

The massive bookshelves—lined with leather-bound ledgers, codes, contracts that bleed power.The small bar—bottle of single malt uncorked, glass smeared with a faint fingerprints.Black walls swallowing the light. Thick carpet muffling every breath I take.

I turn—My heart stops.

There he is.

Behind the huge desk—Watching me as the same.

From the massive portrait on wall.In full black suit, gaze piercing through silence.

Jeon.

His eyes lock onto mine—

You think you can run?

You think i’ll let you leave?

I stumble back—one step—then another. Aera shifts—Tears streaming down my face.

Beep beep beep

Loud beeping—sharp, erratic—cuts through the sterile silence of the ICU.Machines hum. Tubes snake across white sheets.

His chest barely rising—the monitors beside screeches—a thin, flat line flickering… dropping…his eyes are locked onto me. Cold, focused. Unblinking.

Lucas clings to me,tiny face buried in my neck—whimpering softly.But I can’t comfort him.

My hands clenched too tight.The scent of antiseptic burns my nose—but beneath it—I smell whiskey and leather again.

They stand around him—all in black suits despite the hospital lights.

Stiff-backed. Eyes straight ahead.Firm faces.But beneath the surface—

Woo-shik’s fingers tremble beneath his glasses, he doesn’t blink—and when he does—its glistening.

Outside, raised voices cut through the hush.

“Do something!” Minho slams his palm against the wall, “its not gonna happen like this!”

Jisun grips a doctor by coat, eyes wild. “Money doesn’t matter—get every specialist in this country here now! I don’t care if you have to pull them off planes!”

“The system is shutting down,” one doctor says quietly. “We’ve done all we can.”

“All you can isn’t good enough!” he snarls

Inside—His men stiffen. Their gazes burn through me.

I gulp—stand frozen in corner.His eyes haven't left me—not for a second.Pale, sweat-slicked skin—but Still commanding.

Then—slowly—a trembling hand lifts from the sheet, fingers curl toward me—My breath stops.

"Co–come... here,”  words thick, broken by oxygen tubes.

Noone moves.

I gulp- and slowly walk forward—

One step.

Then another.

The floor cold beneath my feet.

I stop in front of him.

His chest—wrapped in bloodied bandages, rising and falling like a broken rhythm. The smell of antiseptic, copper—his cologne—clings to the air.

Cold fingers brush mine—slow, weak.

I look down—grit my teeth.

"Y-You are m-mine"

I look up—his eyes lock onto me. Dark. Possessive. Even now, on the edge of—

"Only... m–mine..."

A shiver runs down my spine. I yank my hand back.

The machine beeps wildly—Blood drips from the bandage—His eyes glint—sharp, cold— hoarse gasps fills chest.

"Now...y-you're the...queen of J-Jeons."

My eyes burn- tears roll down—I can't stop them—Another sharp alarm—the machine screams—

"You...will be just... like... me."

The monitor screeches—loud, endless beeps cut through the air.

"Just...l-like... m-me—"

"Mrs. Jeon—"

I turn.

Wooshik stands in the doorway, fidgeting—glasses slipping, fingers twitching "L-Lucas is downstairs in the hall, Mrs. Je—"

"Y/n."

He freezes.

"It's just y/n"

His throat bobs— Then nods quickly. "R-Right… I'm sorry—it's just a habit."

I nod.

He bows low—and backs out slowly.

The door clicks shut behind him.

Silence.

Air heavier.

I turn—at him.Those eyes—still sharp. Cold. Unmoving.

Silence stretches. Thick, suffocating.

I swallow—clutch Aera tighter.

"I will never be like you"

"Never"

__________________________________________

THE END

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kdDk7-NbPwM