Chapter 2: The Breaking Point
Days blurred into weeks, and honestly, Yeri was running on fumes. The chores piled up, her shifts went from "wow, that's a long day" to "am I still alive?" Meals? Nah, more like sad little rations. She drifted through that mansion like a zombie—eyes dull, hands all rough and banged-up. The girl barely looked alive.
Yunjun kept watching her with this weird look—like he was trying to convince himself she deserved it. Justice, he'd called it. Sure, buddy. But she never fought back. Never even snapped at him, which seemed to rattle him more than if she'd screamed.
Then, on this absolute inferno of an afternoon, Yeri was dragging buckets from the garden well—Soojin's latest bright idea. Her arms shook, her vision got all fuzzy, and before she knew it, the world spun out. Down she went—lights out.
The last thing she caught was the crash of the bucket hitting the floor, ceramic shards everywhere.
Yunjun was off doing his "serious man in a study" thing when he heard chaos. He rushed out, and there she was: Yeri sprawled on the marble, ghost-pale, barely breathing. Soojin just stood there, arms folded, looking like she'd bitten into a lemon.
"Pathetic," Soojin sneered. "Can't even finish a simple job."
Something in Yunjun just snapped. Like, enough. He shoved past his sister, dropped to his knees, and checked Yeri's pulse—way too fast, way too weak. He didn't even think. Just scooped her up like she weighed nothing.
Soojin's jaw dropped. "What the hell are you doing?"
"She needs rest," he snapped, already stomping up the stairs with Yeri in his arms.
Soojin trailed after him, totally indignant. "Since when do you care? You're the one who wanted her to suffer!"
He ignored her. Honestly, he had no clue why he was doing this. Just that seeing Yeri like that—a wreck—made his insides twist.
He laid her in bed, then barked at a maid. "Water. Cold cloth. Now." Soojin hovered in the doorway, scowling.
"You're going soft," she hissed.
Yunjun shot her a look that could've frozen lava. "You've gone too far."
Soojin bristled. "She's nothing! Just some girl you brought here to punish. Why are you defending her?"
He didn't have an answer. Not one that made sense, anyway.
Yeri came to in a haze—cool sheets, actual peace and quiet for once. No chores, no yelling, just the soft lamp glow beside her bed.
She blinked, trying to process it. The door creaked open. In walked Yunjun.
They just stared at each other, both sort of lost. Then he finally spoke, all stiff and awkward.
"No work. Three days. Doctor's orders—well, my orders."
Yeri frowned. "Why?"
Jaw clenched, eyes averted. "Because I said so."
She wanted to argue, but she barely had the energy to breathe. So she just nodded.
He hesitated at the door, then muttered, "Eat something. You look dead."
Door shut. End of conversation.
Things shifted after that.
Yunjun stopped pretending Yeri didn't exist. He watched her, not like she was a problem but like she was an actual person. If Soojin snapped, he shut her down. If the maids tried to pile on more work, he sent them packing.
Soojin hated it. Like, full-on meltdown mode.
One night, she cornered Yeri in the hallway, teeth practically bared. "What did you do to my brother? Cast a spell on him or something?"
Yeri kept her eyes glued to the floor. "I didn't do anything."
"Liar!" Soojin grabbed her wrist, nails digging in. "You're stealing him from me!"
Yeri winced but didn't move. "I don't want him."
Soojin's face twisted into something ugly. She raised her hand—slap incoming—but someone caught her wrist midair.
Yunjun.
His grip was steel. "Touch her again and you'll regret it."
Soojin yanked her hand back, furious. "You're choosing her over me?"
No answer. He just stepped between them, putting himself between Soojin and Yeri.
Soojin's eyes went glassy with rage. "Fine! But this isn't over." She stormed off.
Yeri looked up at Yunjun, confused. "Why?"
He stared at her, expression unreadable. "I don't know."
A few days later, Yunjun was out in the garden, probably trying to remember what sunlight felt like, when he spotted something poking out of the grass—a beat-up leather journal.
Yeri's diary.
He knew he shouldn't, but, well, curiosity's a beast. He cracked it open.
Page after page, the truth spilled out: her dad's drunken rages, blaming her for her mom's death, the beatings, the hunger, all that gnawing loneliness.
And the worst part , the way she'd written about *him*—it hit different.
*"Yunjun hates me. I don't know why. But I'm used to being hated. At least here, the pain is clean. No lies."*
Yeah, that one punched him right in the gut.
Then there's this:
*"I dream sometimes of running away. But where would I go? This house, as cruel as it is, is still better than what I left behind."*
And the last line? Oh, that one stung.
*"I wonder if he'll ever look at me and see a person, not just something to break."*
Yunjin's hands were shaking. Like, actually shaking.
He'd spent all this time convinced he was doling out some righteous punishment for... what? Some made-up offense? Turns out, she'd already been through hell. He just made it worse.
Guilt? More like a freight train slamming into him, full speed. Breathing felt like a chore.
He snapped the diary shut, feeling like he'd swallowed rocks.
He'd messed up. Big time.
And, honestly, he had zero clue how to fix it.
To be continued.....
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