The morning sun slanted through the tall windows of the Lee family's opulent dining room, casting a warm glow over the lavish breakfast spread. Jihwan sat at the head of the table, his father's usual seat conspicuously empty. He'd grown accustomed to dining alone, his parents often called away by the endless demands of running a multinational corporation.

He picked listlessly at his food, the once-tempting array of delicacies turning to ash on his tongue. Eating, like so many other mundane tasks, had lost its appeal in the weeks since Jihyun's death.

Jihwan's gaze drifted to the ornate frame on the sideboard, the smiling faces of his family staring back at him from behind the polished glass. His mother, elegantly coiffed and radiant. His father, stern but proud. And Jihyun... God, Jihyun.

The breath caught in Jihwan's throat, a familiar ache blooming behind his breastbone. In the photo, his sister was a vision of youth and vitality, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she clung to Jihwan's arm. They'd been at some charity gala, the picture snapped by a roving photographer. He remembered how she'd teased him about his stiff posture, her laughter light and carefree as she'd tugged him onto the dance floor.

Now, that laughter was little more than a distant echo, a ghost that haunted his every waking moment.

Jihwan pushed away from the table, his appetite vanishing along with the memory. He couldn't bear to look at that photo, at the tangible reminder of all he'd lost. Yet he couldn't bring himself to take it down, to consign Jihyun's image to some dark corner where her light would never reach.

Caught between two equally painful choices, he did what he always did these days.

He ran.

Out of the suffocating silence of the dining room, through the cavernous foyer with its gleaming marble and priceless art. Past the startled maid who leaped out of his way, her eyes wide with unspoken questions.

He didn't stop until he reached the sprawling gardens behind the house, the cool morning air a balm to his flushed skin. Here, among the meticulously tended flowerbeds and burbling fountains, he could almost pretend that everything was as it had been. That if he just closed his eyes and wished hard enough, he'd open them to find Jihyun beside him, her impish grin a dare and a delight.

But wishes were for children and fairy tales, and Jihwan's life had become a living nightmare.

He sank onto a wrought iron bench, his head falling into his hands. The events of that fateful night played out against the backs of his eyelids, an endless loop of horror and heartbreak.

They'd been at a party, some glitzy New Year's Eve affair thrown by one of his father's business associates. Jihwan had indulged in one too many flutes of champagne, the bubbles going straight to his head as he'd whirled Jihyun around the dance floor. She'd been radiant in her crimson dress, her laughter mingling with the strains of the orchestra as they'd moved in perfect sync.

At midnight, flushed with alcohol and joy, Jihwan had impulsively suggested they take a drive. Just a quick spin through the city, to watch the fireworks paint the sky. Jihyun had hesitated, worry creasing her brow as she'd glanced at their parents, deep in conversation with a group of dignitaries.

But Jihwan had been insistent, his judgment clouded by the haze of celebration. And Jihyun, his sweet, trusting Jihyun, had relented. Always ready for an adventure, always willing to follow where he led.

Even if he led her straight to her death.

A choked sob tore from Jihwan's throat, the memory of screeching tires and shattering glass still visceral in his mind. He could still feel the wrenching impact, still hear Jihyun's scream abruptly silenced. Still see the dark bloom of blood on her perfect porcelain skin as he'd cradled her limp form, his own injuries forgotten in the face of her stillness.

They said it was a miracle he'd survived, that he'd escaped with little more than a few scars and a shattered heart. But Jihwan knew the truth. Knew that he'd died in that ravine alongside his sister, his soul cleaved in two the moment hers had slipped away.

Now, he was little more than a walking shell, a pale imitation of the man he'd once been. The golden boy, the pride of the Lee family. The doting brother, the loyal son. All those roles, all those expectations, felt like ill-fitting costumes, the seams straining against the ragged edges of his grief.

How could he ever hope to be whole again, when the best part of himself lay buried beneath six feet of cold earth? How could he look his parents in the eye, knowing that he'd stolen their joy, their light, their precious daughter?

The questions chased each other in endless circles, a vicious cycle of self-recrimination and despair. Jihwan dug his fingers into his thighs, the pain a sharp counterpoint to the agony in his chest. He welcomed it, this fleeting glimpse of sensation in the numbing fog of his existence.

A polite cough shattered the suffocating silence, startling Jihwan from his dark reverie. He looked up to see Jaeho, his father's secretary, standing a respectful distance away. The man's face was carefully blank, but Jihwan could see the pity in his eyes, the unspoken understanding of a loss too great to bear.

"Your father is requesting your presence in his study, young master," Jaeho said, his voice low and soothing. "He has some matters to discuss with you before your meeting with the Kim Group representatives."

Jihwan stared at him for a long moment, uncomprehending. The Kim Group... The name rang a distant bell, some half-forgotten piece of a life that no longer felt like his own. He vaguely recalled his father mentioning a potential partnership, a lucrative deal that could cement Lee Industries' dominance in the tech sector.

Before, such a prospect would have filled him with excitement, with the thrill of a new challenge to be conquered. Now, it was all he could do to summon a flicker of interest, the embers of his ambition long since cooled to ashes.

But he was a Lee, and duty was engraved into his very bones. So he rose on unsteady legs, his spine straight and his shoulders squared. He donned the mask of the dutiful son, the unflappable heir, and followed Jaeho back into the house, back into the gilded cage of his life.

As he walked, he felt the weight of Jihyun's absence like a physical thing, a yawning chasm at his side where she should have been. His confidante, his champion, his better half in every way that mattered.

He paused at the threshold of his father's study, his hand hovering over the polished brass knob. For a fleeting moment, he was tempted to turn and run, to flee this house and all its suffocating expectations. To find some quiet corner of the world where he could nurse his grief in peace, unseen and unheard.

But he knew it was a futile dream. There was no escape for him, no respite from the guilt and sorrow that dogged his every step. He was a prisoner of his own making, trapped in a hell of his own design.

With a heavy sigh, Jihwan pushed open the door and stepped inside, ready to play his part in this endless masquerade. Ready to smile and nod and pretend that his world hadn't shattered beyond repair.

Ready to do what was expected of him, even if it killed him.

Because in a way, he was already dead. The Jihwan who had lived and laughed and loved with reckless abandon had perished in that ravine, his blood mingling with Jihyun's on the unforgiving asphalt.

All that remained was this hollow husk, this pale shadow of a man. And if that was his penance, his cross to bear... then so be it.

He would endure. For Jihyun, for the memory of all they had shared. For the flicker of light she had been in a world too often shrouded in darkness.

Even if, with each passing day, that light grew dimmer and more distant. Even if, deep down, he feared it would one day be extinguished entirely, leaving him forever lost in the void of his own making.