I. The Clean-Up and the Cost
The Taewon Annex gallery was silent again. Madam Park, Kim Seok-jin, and Joo Yeong-ho were swiftly apprehended, their financial machinations and the staged nature of Ha-eun's death fully exposed by the security logs Taehyung had deliberately fed to the regulators. The Architects of the Broken Vow were finally neutralized.
Kim Taehyung had won. He had secured his company, avenged his sister's memory (even though she was alive), and eliminated the threat. Yet, he felt only a profound chill.
His security chief delivered the final report. "The arrests were clean, Chairman. But what about... her?"
Taehyung was looking at Ha-eun, who was sitting curled up on the leather seat of the surveillance van, still smelling faintly of blue paint, staring blankly ahead. The brief moment of clarity, the whispered "Ham hamesha saath rahenge?" (Will we always be together?) had vanished, replaced by an unsettling, deep emotional regression.
She wasn't just acting like a twenty-year-old with amnesia anymore; she was exhibiting the terror of the six-year-old girl who had been emotionally abandoned and betrayed. She was shivering, clutching the ridiculous CEO action figure like a forgotten doll.
"She needs to go back to the house," Taehyung ordered, his voice flat. "Isolate the property again. No media, no doctors. I will handle her."
The victory felt hollow, built upon the terror of the one person he was supposed to protect.
II. The Burden of the Caregiver
Back at the mansion, Taehyung spent the next day running the multi-billion-dollar corporation from his secure room while simultaneously acting as a reluctant caregiver.
Ha-eun refused to leave the floor of the living room. She wouldn't eat, and her usual demands for poetry and paint were replaced by whimpers and constant requests to hear the simple facts of her life again.
"Taehyung," she whispered, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Tell me again about my name. Was it really Eun-ji? Was I a good poet? Did I make you happy?"
"You were excellent, Eun-ji," Taehyung replied patiently, trying to feed her soup. "You wrote the funniest poems. And yes, you made... many people happy."
He couldn't tell her the truth: that her real name was Ha-eun, the ruthless Chairwoman, and that she hadn't made him happy, but had been the source of his deepest stress and rivalry—a rivalry that now felt utterly pointless.
He realized his new role was not just to hide her, but to rebuild her fractured identity using a compassionate lie. He had to be the kind man she remembered, even though the kind man was supposed to be dead.
III. The Demand for the Promise
The emotional climax came that evening. Ha-eun finally spoke about the core of her fear.
"The elegant man (Seok-jin) was angry," she whispered, her hands shaking. "He kept talking about the promise. Did I break a promise, Taehyung? If I broke a promise, does that mean I'm a bad person?"
Taehyung sat beside her on the floor. He knew the promise she meant—the childish vow, "Ham hamesha saath rahenge" (We will always be together). The memory of the Crimson Pledge was resurfacing in her subconscious as guilt.
"No, Eun-ji," Taehyung said, making the deepest commitment of his life. "You did not break the promise. He did. And the people who hurt you broke it. You are good."
Ha-eun looked at him, her eyes searching his for absolute truth. "Then... then you must promise me something now. A new promise."
"What is it?"
She pointed directly at his forehead. "You must give me the kiss now. The one I demanded. If you do it, I will know that you will not leave me, and that the bad people will stay away."
Taehyung hesitated. The entire foundation of his persona—the aloof, unattached Chairman who banned forehead kisses—was designed to keep him safe and powerful. Granting this request would be admitting that the ruthless Chairman was still capable of love, sacrifice, and vulnerability. It was the complete surrender of his mask.
He gently put the soup bowl down. The corporate empire was safe, but the price of his victory was paid in this moment.
Taehyung leaned forward, brushing aside a strand of hair from her forehead, and gently pressed his lips against her skin.
It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was an Architect's new vow—a commitment to protect the fragile truth of the past, even if it meant sacrificing his cold, necessary future.
Ha-eun let out a long, shuddering sigh and closed her eyes, finally falling into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Taehyung sat beside her, the smell of blue paint and the fear of a six-year-old girl heavy in the air. He had won the throne, but he had inherited a far heavier burden: the unbroken promise.