The call came at 3:47 AM.
Eun-woo was tangled in Song Kang's arms, lost in a dreamless sleep, when the shrill ringing of his phone shattered the silence. He fumbled for it on the nightstand, his fingers clumsy with exhaustion, and brought it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Cha?" The voice on the other end was clinical, detached from the voice of someone who delivered bad news for a living. "This is Nurse Park from Seoul General. I'm afraid there's been a change in your mother's condition. You need to come to the hospital immediately."
Eun-woo's blood turned to ice. "What kind of change? What happened?"
"There was a complication. Her heart... it's failing. We're doing everything we can, but... you should come. Now."
The line went dead.
Eun-woo sat frozen, the phone slipping from his fingers and thudding onto the mattress. The room spun around him, the shadows pressing in from all sides. His mother. His mother was dying. The woman who had raised him alone, who had worked double shifts to put food on the table, who had smiled through her pain and told him everything would be okay.
And he hadn't been there.
He hadn't been there.
"Eun-woo?" Song Kang's voice was groggy, his hand reaching out to touch the younger man's shoulder. "What's wrong? Who was that?"
Eun-woo turned to him, his eyes wide and glassy, his face pale as bone. "My mother. She's... she's dying. I have to go. I have to…"
He was already scrambling out of bed, pulling on clothes with frantic, jerky movements. Song Kang was instantly alert, his exhaustion forgotten, his mafia instincts kicking in.
"I'll drive you," Song Kang said, already dressing. "We'll take the SUV. We'll be there in three hours."
Eun-woo didn't respond. He was already out the door, his bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor, his heart pounding with a terror that dwarfed everything he had ever felt. The hunt for Han Seo-jun, the violence, the fear it all paled in comparison to this. This was the one thing he couldn't fight, couldn't outrun, couldn't control.
Death was coming, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The drive to Seoul was a blur of darkness and speed.
Song Kang pushed the SUV to its limits, the engine roaring as they tore through the winding mountain roads. Eun-woo sat in the passenger seat, his hands clenched in his lap, his eyes fixed on the dashboard clock. Each passing minute felt like a lifetime, each mile an eternity.
"She's going to be okay," Song Kang said, his voice steady and calm. "She's strong. She's a fighter. She's going to pull through."
Eun-woo shook his head, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. "You don't know that. You don't know anything."
Song Kang reached over, his hand finding Eun-woo's. The touch was warm, grounding, a lifeline in the sea of despair.
"No," Song Kang admitted quietly. "I don't. But I know you. And I know that whatever happens, I'm right here. You're not alone, Eun-woo. You're never alone."
Eun-woo squeezed his hand, unable to speak. The words were trapped in his throat, choked by the weight of his fear.
They arrived at Seoul General Hospital as the first pale light of dawn was creeping over the horizon.
Eun-woo burst through the emergency room doors, his heart pounding, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Song Kang followed close behind, his presence a silent anchor in the chaos.
"Nurse Park," Eun-woo gasped, spotting the familiar face at the nurses' station. "Where is she? Where's my mother?"
Nurse Park looked up, her expression softening with a pity that made Eun-woo's stomach drop. "Mr. Cha. I'm so sorry. We did everything we could, but..."
"No." Eun-woo shook his head violently, backing away. "No, you're lying. You're lying. She's fine. She was fine. The surgery was a success. She was…"
"Mr. Cha." Nurse Park stepped forward, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. "Your mother passed away twenty minutes ago. She went peacefully. She wasn't in any pain."
The words hit Eun-woo like a physical blow. His legs buckled, and he would have collapsed if Song Kang hadn't caught him, pulling him into a firm embrace.
"No," Eun-woo sobbed, his voice breaking. "No, no, no, no…"
Song Kang held him tight, his hand cradling the back of Eun-woo's head, pressing his face into his chest. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "I've got you. Let it out. Let it all out."
Eun-woo cried. He cried for his mother, who had sacrificed everything for him. He cried for the years he had wasted, the moments he could never get back. He cried for the guilt that consumed him, the guilt of not being there, of not calling enough, of not telling her he loved her one last time.
And through it all, Song Kang held him, a rock in the storm, unwavering and unbreakable.
They took Eun-woo to see her.
The room was quiet, the machines silent, the bed still. His mother lay there, her face peaceful, her hands folded on her chest. She looked like she was sleeping, like she might wake up at any moment and smile at him.
But she wouldn't. She would never smile at him again.
Eun-woo sank into the chair beside her bed, his hand reaching out to touch hers. Her skin was cold, so cold, and the touch sent a fresh wave of grief crashing through him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I should have been there. I should have been with you. I was so busy with everything with the gallery, with…" He stopped, unable to say Song Kang's name. "I was so selfish. I was so busy living my life that I forgot to live it with you."
Song Kang stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his face shadowed with grief. He didn't intrude. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He simply watched, a silent witness to Eun-woo's pain.
"I'll miss you," Eun-woo continued, tears streaming down his face. "Every single day. Every single moment. I'll miss your laugh, your cooking, the way you used to sing off-key in the kitchen. I'll miss the way you always believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself."
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his mother's forehead. The skin was cold, waxy, and the gesture felt hollow, inadequate. But it was all he had left.
"Goodbye, Mom," he whispered. "I love you. I'll always love you."
The days that followed were a blur of grief and logistics.
Song Kang handled everything. He arranged the funeral, the cremation, the paperwork. He made calls to distant relatives, ordered flowers, and organized the reception. He did it all with a quiet efficiency that left Eun-woo feeling both grateful and hollow.
Eun-woo himself was a ghost, drifting through the motions of mourning. He stood at the funeral, accepting condolences from strangers, his face a mask of composure. He watched as his mother's body was lowered into the ground, the earth covering her like a blanket. He smiled at the reception, thanked the guests, and ate the food that tasted like ash.
And then, when it was all over, he collapsed.
Song Kang found him in the bathroom of their hotel room, slumped against the wall, his face buried in his knees. The water was running in the sink, forgotten, the mirror fogged with steam.
"Eun-woo." Song Kang knelt beside him, his hand resting on the younger man's shoulder. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here."
"She's gone," Eun-woo said, his voice flat and lifeless. "She's really gone."
Song Kang pulled him into his arms, holding him tight. "I know. I know."
"I never told her." Eun-woo's voice broke. "I never told her about you. About us. She died thinking I was alone."
Song Kang's jaw tightened. "You're not alone. You have me. You'll always have me."
Eun-woo shook his head, pulling back to look at him. "What if I lose you too? What if something happens to you? I can't... I can't go through this again."
Song Kang cupped his face, his thumbs wiping away the tears. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not dying. I'm not leaving. I'm right here, Eun-woo. And I'm going to be right here for as long as you want me."
Eun-woo stared at him, his eyes red and swollen. "Promise me. Promise me you won't leave."
"I promise," Song Kang said, his voice fierce. "I swear on my life. I will never leave you."
They kissed then a desperate, aching kiss that tasted of salt and grief and love. Eun-woo clung to Song Kang like he was the only anchor in a stormy sea, and Song Kang held him with a tenderness that belied his brutal reputation.
That night, they made love in the soft glow of the hotel room.
It was different this time: not hungry, not commanding, not a battle for control. It was gentle, slow, a quiet communion between two souls bound by love and loss. Song Kang laid Eun-woo down on the bed, his touch reverent, his kisses soft as whispered prayers.
"I love you," Song Kang murmured against his skin. "I love you so much."
Eun-woo's hands roamed over Song Kang's back, pulling him closer, needing to feel his warmth, his presence, his life. "Show me," he whispered. "Show me I'm not alone."
Song Kang entered him slowly, carefully, his movements synchronized with Eun-woo's breath. They moved together in a rhythm older than time, a dance of healing and connection. Eun-woo's hands fisted in the sheets, his eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling from beneath his lashes.
"Look at me," Song Kang commanded softly.
Eun-woo opened his eyes. Song Kang was above him, his face a study in raw emotion, love, grief, determination.
"I'm not leaving," Song Kang said, his voice shaking. "I'm not going anywhere. You're my whole world, Eun-woo. Everything else, the money, the power, the empire, it means nothing without you."
Eun-woo reached up, his hand cupping Song Kang's cheek. "Then stay. Stay with me. Forever."
"Forever," Song Kang echoed.
He moved faster now, his thrusts deepening, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Eun-woo arched beneath him, his body responding to the rhythm, the pleasure building with each stroke.
"Kang," Eun-woo gasped. "I'm close."
"Let go," Song Kang urged. "Let go. I've got you."
Eun-woo cried out, his release crashing over him like a wave. Song Kang followed moments later, burying his face in Eun-woo's neck as he spilled inside him, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.
They lay together afterward, tangled and breathless, the silence broken only by the soft sounds of their breathing.
Eun-woo pressed his lips to Song Kang's chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything. For being here. For loving me."
Song Kang's hand stroked through his hair. "There's no need to thank me. I'd do it all again. Every moment. Every sacrifice. For you."
They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the weight of grief still heavy but the weight of love heavier still.
In the days that followed, Eun-woo began to heal.
He painted again not the dark, tortured images of his past, but soft landscapes of memory. His mother in the kitchen, humming off-key. His mother in the garden, her hands buried in the soil. His mother is smiling, always smiling.
Song Kang supported him, giving him space when he needed it, holding him when he didn't. They returned to the villa, the pine forest welcoming them home. And slowly, bit by bit, Eun-woo learned to live with his grief.
"Your mother would be proud of you," Song Kang said one evening, as they sat on the terrace watching the sunset.
Eun-woo leaned into him, his head resting on Song Kang's shoulder. "You think so?"
"I know so." Song Kang pressed a kiss to his temple. "You're the bravest person I've ever met. And I've met a lot of people."
Eun-woo smiled a small, fragile smile, but genuine. "I love you."
"I love you too." Song Kang pulled him closer. "And I'm never letting you go."
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. The pine forest rustled in the evening breeze, and somewhere in the distance, an owl called out into the gathering darkness.
Eun-woo closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Song Kang's embrace wash over him. His mother was gone, and the grief would never fully fade. But he wasn't alone. He had Song Kang. He had his art. He had a future worth fighting for.
And that was enough.