Three years ago........ (Continued)
The sterile room hummed with the quiet rhythm of machines, the only sound breaking the suffocating stillness. Ji-Won lay motionless on the bed, his face pale against the stark white sheets, his body a fragile shell tethered to life by wires and tubes. It had been several days since the fall—days of silence, waiting, and helplessness.
The doctors had said the impact from the cliff, combined with the gunshot, had caused significant damage. The height alone should have killed him, but Ji-Won had clung to life, his body fighting even when his mind could not. Yet, day after day, he remained still, unresponsive, caught somewhere between life and death.
Inside the secluded private residence, Andrew stood with his palms gently pressed against the cold wall, his gaze locked on Ji-Won, vacant and distant, reflecting the silence that enveloped him. The residence had been chosen for its privacy, a sanctuary where a private doctor and staff could tend to Ji-Won, with Secretary Choi's assistance. It was a refuge removed from the outside world—hidden from the brutal truth of how narrowly Ji-Won had escaped losing everything.
Andrew never left Ji-Won's side, watching, waiting, hoping. But with each passing hour, the hope that Ji-Won would wake dimmed. The flicker of life that had once burned so brightly inside him now seemed distant, unreachable. Andrew's heart ached—not just from the pain of seeing Ji-Won like this, but from the crushing weight of uncertainty. He didn't know if Ji-Won would ever open his eyes again—or if, when he did, he would even be the same person.
The doctors had advised them to fortify their prayers for Ji-Won. The endless monotony of waiting, of watching the machines keep him alive, of wondering whether each breath might be his last, took its toll. Each day stretched on like an eternity, the burden of time slowly suffocating Andrew's spirit.
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his fingers shaking. How many times had he prayed, begged for a miracle, for Ji-Won to just open his eyes, to give some sign that he was still there? But the room remained silent, the machines indifferent to the pain in Andrew's heart.
The sound of footsteps broke the stillness. James arrived at that moment, his face pale but resolute. Despite the support brace strapped across his injured arm, he moved with purpose, pushing through the pain as he approached Andrew, concern etched on his features.
"Andrew, what are you planning to do now?" James asked, his voice trembling slightly, betraying the worry beneath his calm exterior.
Andrew, who had been standing, snapped his head toward James at the question. His brows knit together, and for a moment, the air between them was thick with unspoken tension.
"What?" Andrew's voice was hoarse, almost as if he hadn't spoken in days, his tone strained with fatigue and frustration.
"Are we just going to keep him hidden?" James pressed, stepping closer, his expression filled with concern and confusion. "We need to contact his family, or at least the President. They have a right to know. And given the situation, we never know if Ji-Won will wake up... you heard the doctor."
"No!" Andrew snapped, his voice cutting through the air, sharp and filled with urgency. His eyes blazed with a mix of fear and defiance. "Do you see the danger out there? We don't even know who the gunman is. I can't—"
"But—" James raised his hands, trying to calm Andrew, but before he could finish, the door swung open. Both men turned, startled, as Secretary Choi entered the room. But what shocked them more was the figure behind him—the Vice Chairman, storming in with fury etched across his face, his movements sharp and purposeful.
"You idiot!" The Vice Chairman slammed his fist against the wall with a resounding thud, his fiery gaze never leaving Andrew. His face was red with anger, his presence overwhelming.
Andrew squared his shoulders, his eyes narrowing as he met his father's wrath head-on. "Not now. I'm busy."
"Busy?!" The Vice Chairman's voice dripped with sarcasm and disdain. "Do you have any idea what it's cost me to cover up all the traces of your foolish actions? Everything that could lead to you, and that bastard! Is he even alive? Look at him, lying in his deathbed."
Andrew's face darkened, his fists clenching by his sides. "Don't you dare talk about him like that."
The Vice Chairman's eyes widened with disbelief, his voice rising even further. "Are you out of your mind, Andrew? You need to hand him over to his family—now. This isn't a game. You can't keep him hidden like some secret. Even your uncle—"
"No!" Andrew's voice was sharp, unyielding, as he glared at his father, his body trembling with the weight of his defiance. "I can't trust anyone—not even you!"
The Vice Chairman's eyes narrowed, disbelief and fury mixing in his gaze. His voice dropped, cold and biting. "Are you completely insane? You're putting yourself in danger too."
Andrew's frustration boiled over. His fists clenched tighter, his body trembling with rage. He turned abruptly to Secretary Choi, his voice taut with anger. "Secretary Choi, I trusted you with this. Why did you tell him? And bring him here?"
Secretary Choi bowed his head, his hands clasped nervously in front of him. "I'm so sorry, Young Master," he said softly, his voice filled with regret. "But he needed to know. You can't hide this forever. And everything out there is chaos."
Andrew inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling heavily. His frustration coiled tightly inside him, suffocating him. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm within, but it was no use. His breath came quicker, as if he were drowning in a sea of impossible decisions.
The Vice Chairman stepped forward, shaking his head in exasperation. "Don't blame Secretary Choi for your reckless decisions," he spat. "If he hadn't told me what was happening, your uncle would've been here by now, storming through the doors, tearing everything apart. You think this is bad? If your grandfather finds out, it's the end of you—and me. You've jeopardized everything!"
Andrew's throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. His father's words hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him momentarily speechless. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, his heart hammering in his chest. His father's voice rang in his ears, each word dripping with bitter frustration.
"That brain of yours," the Vice Chairman hissed, stepping closer to Andrew. He jabbed a finger against the side of Andrew's head. "Use it wisely, before you ruin everything. Your uncle keeps asking where you are and tracking you. I bet he's suspicious that you're not around."
Before Andrew could respond, the sound of rapid beeping filled the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. Everyone froze. The machine monitoring Ji-Won's vitals suddenly spiked, its rhythmic pulse growing faster and more erratic.
James turned sharply toward Ji-Won's bed, his eyes widening as he realized something was happening. "Wait… something's wrong," he muttered, his voice trembling as he rushed toward the door. "Doctor!"
In an instant, the medical staff rushed into the room, their movements swift and purposeful as they gathered around Ji-Won's bed. Andrew, James, the Vice Chairman, and Secretary Choi stood frozen, their breaths held tight in their chests as they watched the team of doctors and nurses work. The air was thick with tension, each second stretching into eternity.
Andrew's heart pounded in his chest as his gaze stayed fixed on Ji-Won's pale face, his mind racing. His hands trembled slightly, his body taut with a mixture of fear, hope, and desperation. He could hardly breathe, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, suffocating him.
The medical team worked swiftly, adjusting the monitors, checking Ji-Won's vitals, their expressions focused and intense. Andrew's chest tightened, his pulse racing with fear and anticipation. Time seemed to stretch, each second dragging on painfully, as the beeping of the machines was the only sound in the room.
The story doesn't end here...
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