I sit at the kitchen island, idly stirring my coffee as I gaze out the window at the New York skyline. The penthouse is quiet this morning, a nice counterbalance to the chaos of the past few weeks. I'm lost in thought when Jungkook's deep voice breaks the silence.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

I turn to face him, noting his serious expression. "What's wrong?"

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, a rare sign of uncertainty from him. "It's about your father. Sung Joo's health is deteriorating rapidly, and he's requested another meeting with you."

My stomach twists at the mention of father Sung Joo. Our last encounter was emotionally charged, and I'm still processing my feelings about him. I understand his actions, but it feels insulting that he gave me money, as if that could heal the wounds his absence inflicted. "I don't know if I'm ready for that again so soon."

He moves closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I understand your hesitation, but this might be your last chance to speak with him. The doctors tell me he isn't fighting as hard as he could, and perhaps you could give him a reason to keep pursuing recovery?"

I bite my lip, torn between my lingering anger and the nagging feeling that I might regret not seeing him. "What do you think I should do?"

He gives me a look full of sympathy. "I can't make this decision for you, but I'll support you either way."

I take a deep breath while assessing my options. The silence stretches between us as I consider the implications of both choices. Finally, I nod. "Okay. I'll see him."

Jungkook gives me a side hug. "I'll make the arrangements. We'll leave in an hour."

As Jungkook steps away to make a call, I finish my coffee and head to our bedroom to change. I opt for a simple black dress, appropriate for what feels like a somber occasion. When I return to the living room, Jungkook is waiting by the door.

"Ready?" he asks, extending his hand.

I take it, drawing strength from him. "As I'll ever be."

We step out into the bustling streets of Seoul, the city alive with energy. As we walk toward the car, I can't shake the dread coiling in my stomach about the impending meeting with my father. The driver waits by the vehicle, his face impassive as always. As we slide into the back seat, I turn to Jungkook. "What should I expect? Is he much worse than last time?"

Jungkook's jaw tightens. "Your father is still in that private medical facility. He's weak but lucid. I've seen him, and he's not hooked up to wires. It's more like he's lost some of his spirit, but you're under no obligation to stay if you're uncomfortable."

I nod, mulling it over as we drive through the city. I watch the bustling streets, trying to calm my nerves, but I'm not really seeing the details. It's all a blur as I think about Father dying. There's a small pang of regret at the idea, but mostly, I feel numb. That isn't the natural response, and it makes me sad to feel that way. Jungkook's hand rests on my knee as though he's reading my thoughts on my face.

The car pulls up to the same unassuming building, and Taehyung quickly ushers us inside. I know the way to his room this time, but before we enter, Jungkook turns to me as I freeze in the hallway outside Father's room, suddenly unable to go in. The news of his worsening condition has me on edge.

He places a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to do this," he says softly.

I shake my head. "I do. He's my father, regardless of our past."

Jungkook nods and exhales softly. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

My eyes widen. "You aren't coming in?"

He lifts a shoulder. "Your father has requested to speak to you privately, but I'll come if you need me."

I hesitate before shaking my head. "I can do this." And I can ask him to come in if it turns out I can't. Taking a deep breath, I enter the room. The sight of Father, frail and bedridden, makes my chest ache. I contrast it with how much better he looked that night at "Samovar," and it's clear to see he's suffered another setback.

He gives a small but genuine smile when I step fully inside. "Y/N, you came." His voice is hoarse and reedy.

I approach his bedside, hesitant. "I did. How are you feeling?"

He attempts a smile, but it comes out as a grimace. "I've been better, but seeing you gives me strength."

I sit in the chair beside his bed, unsure what to say. He reaches out, hand trembling, and I take it, surprised by my own action.

"I have something to tell you," he says in a weak whisper. "About Kung Min. Heard what he tried to do in Seoul... Has to stop..."

My interest piques. "What about him?"

He glances at the door. "Make sure we're alone."

I look around, already knowing no one else is with us. "We are. What is it?"

He takes a labored breath. "Kung Min has a secret. A weakness."

"A weakness?" I lean closer, eager to hear more.

Father nods. "A child. A son, in Busan. With a woman named Isabella."

The revelation stuns me. "Kung Min has a son and abandoned him in Busan?"

"Yes. Tony. He's five years old. Kung Min's only hire" He frowns. "Not abandoned. He keeps them there for safety."

My mind races at the news, and my heart feels like it's going to jump out of my throat. "Does anyone else know?"

Father shrugs. "Very few. It's his most guarded secret."