When Owen was six, their house was filled with love, warmth, and the smell of home cooked meals. Weekends were spent playing board games, going on picnics, and creating memories he wanted to last.
Back then, his father lifted him high in the air, carried him on his shoulders, and laughed in a way that made everything seem bright. Everyone was happy. Owen used to wait at the door every evening, running barefoot across the living room whenever he heard the sound of keys turning.
Back then, his mother's smile was whole.
Back then, his sister still braided his hair for fun. Back then, their house smelled like warm food, soft music, and laughter.
Back then…everything seemed safe.
But childhood has a quiet way of ending before a child realizes it.
ৎ────
The Cracks
He didn't know when his father stopped coming home early.
At first, he told Owen he was "busy at work." Then "tired all the time." Then he stopped saying anything at all. Only replaced by a cold stare.
And then came the days when the house felt heavier. Colder. Silent in all the wrong places.
Owen remembered waking up to raised voices behind closed doors. His mother and father argued every night about another woman.
He remembered sitting on the staircase with his sister, hugging his knees while she covered his ears with her hands. Owen didn't understand it at first.
"You don't have to listen," she whispered.
But even with ears covered, a child still hears the fear and shouting in the walls. At a young age, he learned that adults can turn into something they said they'd never be.
Their mother stopped humming in the kitchen cooking for them and stopped smiling back at him every time.
Stopped eating with them at the table. Eventually their mother hired a maid in their home.
She tried to hide the tiredness in her eyes, the bruises on her face with makeup, so people won't suspect anything. Her husband warned her to never tell anyone.
Jae-in tried to hide her sadness with jokes to comfort her younger brother. And Owen tried to pretend everything was fine.
He was just a child. Pretending was all he could do.
ৎ────
After a lot of things happened. Soon. There was one night…the night he stopped calling his father "Dad."
A loud crash. A shout. A cry.
Owen ran into the living room, heart pounding, because he thought someone was hurt.
Someone was. But the details blurred in his mind even as he remembered them. The room was a mess, the air thick, the tension sharp.
His father's face was cold and harsh. Owen looked at him with fear. His mother was shaken, breathless, trying to steady herself on the floor.
And when Owen tried to step in, when he tried to protect her, even though he was small and scared, his father turned toward him with eyes Owen had never seen before.
Eyes that didn't look like a father at all. Then he left the house without saying a word.
Owen stumbled back, tears burning his eyes. His sister rushed to him, pulling him away, whispering, "Don't. Don't go near him."
Their mother stood up wiping her tears, instead of comforting her children, she climbed the stairs with heavy footsteps.
Her eyes didn't flicker towards them, didn't acknowledge the two children watching her with worried eyes.
"Mom…?"
That night stayed carved into Owen's memories.
After that, he avoided his father's eyes.
After that, he stopped expecting anything from him. After that… he learned that even the one you thought will protect you is the one who will hurt you.
ৎ────
Days, weeks, months, years. Their mother faded in slow, painful pieces.
Her smile was forced. Laughed almost never. Moved around the house like she was made of glass. Owen never saw her beautiful smile again.
She never stepped inside the kitchen anymore. Stayed in her room longer.
Stopped brushing Owen's hair before school.
Their father barely stayed home at all anymore. That made them feel better for a while. Leaving or divorce wasn't effective too.
ৎ────
The silence in the house became heavy enough to choke on.
Jae-in began to feel numb about how their parents are treating them. She began to learn from the maid instead. She Learned how to cook. Learned how to soothe Owen when he woke up crying.
Learned how to keep him from seeing things he shouldn't see.
Owen wanted to fix things. But he could only watch them crumble. He started losing hope because it continued until he was ten years old.
He was ten when everything took its final, irreversible turn.
One morning.
Jae-in found their mother, a rope hung limp from the ceiling, their mother's figure swaying gently, not breathing anymore, leaving her children. Jae-in didn't speak for days afterward and thought that their mother was selfish.
Their father flew into a rage at them, blamed them, at everything except himself. He braced himself for the inevitable questions about her death.
Owen didn't remember crying loudly.
He remembered crying silently, the kind of crying that makes no sound because the pain is too big to fit in a voice.
And from that day on, his remaining hope for a healed family disappeared. He stopped believing warm days could come back. Because it will never happen. He stopped trusting the man who caused it all and hated him even more.
ৎ────
After the funeral, things changed again…but not in the way he hoped.
His father suddenly tried to "fix their image." Softened his tone. Started showing up at school events. Bought expensive things Owen never asked for.
But Owen couldn't forget. Couldn't forgive.
The smell of his father's cologne made him nauseous. The sound of his footsteps made his skin crawl. The fake smiles made him angry.
People outside called them the "Kwon Family," elite and respectable.
People inside the house knew the truth.
ৎ────
His father started shaping his life like clay. Shamelessly.
"You'll handle the company someday."
"You must study here."
"You must behave like a proper Kwon."
"You must prove to me that you are a rightful son to take over the company."
But Owen didn't want any of it.
He wanted freedom. Wanted space.
Wanted distance from the man who ruined everything.
His sister accepted the pressure. Joined the company. Became the obedient heir.
Owen rebelled.
He came home late. Skipped classes.
Ignored every order his father gave. But still topped every class he was in.
So at sixteen, he moved out. Got an apartment. Told his father he'd rather sleep outside than sleep in that house.
His father only cared about one thing:
"Whether you like it or not, the company needs a son. Your sister can support you, but the heir must be you."
Owen didn't care about the company.
He only cared about staying far away.
But even distance couldn't erase the past.
ৎ────
Now.
Owen sat in his car, wearing a suit he didn't want to wear.
The Kwon Building loomed in front of him like a reminder of everything he'd run from.
"Do you think I finally listened?" he muttered under his breath, staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Don't flatter yourself."
He stepped out and slammed the car door.
People bowed when he passed the lobby.
Employees whispered. The front desk staff greeted him with wide smiles.
He ignored all of them.
When the elevator doors opened, his father was already there, expensive suit, polished shoes, and the same cold eyes Owen had known his whole life.
"You're late," his father said.
"It's morning," Owen replied flatly. "You dragged me out of bed. Be grateful I came."
The board members chuckled awkwardly.
His father narrowed his eyes.
The meeting lasted hours, long, pointless, suffocating. They talked about numbers, shares, growth, and legacy.
Legacy. A word that made Owen's stomach twist.
He wasn't listening. Not really.
His mind wandered elsewhere. He'd rather be at school. Somewhere far from the heavy table and the older men expecting him to play the role of the perfect son.
When the meeting ended, his father pulled him aside.
"You embarrassed me."
"I didn't do anything."
"Exactly. You do nothing."
Owen's jaw tightened.
"You should not have come here. You don't take anything seriously. You don't respect me, or this company, or!"
"Respect?" Owen let out a soft laugh. "You lost that word a long time ago."
His father froze.
The board members pretended not to hear.
Owen stepped back.
Then turned around and walked away.
Owen didn't wait for his father to call him back. He didn't want to hear anything else.
By the time he reached the parking lot. A surge of anger burned beneath his skin. His muscles tensed as his jaw clenched.
The same anger he'd known since childhood. The same anger that refused to fade.
He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
"Trash," he muttered. "All of them."
Before he could drive off, some of his fathers men stood in front of his car and blocked him from leaving immediately.
"Mr. Kwon, would like a word with you."
ৎ────
8 PM at the Convenience Store
Jungtae was fixing snacks on the shelves when suddenly the bell rang.
"Welco-"
Turning his head. His words stopped.
Owen stepped inside.
Still in his suit. Tie loosened. Hair slightly messy. But what caught Jungtae's eyes…
The faint bruise on his cheekbone. The line of redness near his jaw. The tired shadow in his eyes. He looked like someone who had walked through a storm.
Owen pointed lazily at the fridge behind Jungtae. "Here to buy alcohol," he said.
His voice was flat. Empty. A little too calm.
But Jungtae could tell, something happened. Something bad.
And for a moment, Owen's teasing grin didn't reach his eyes at all.