The evening sky had dimmed, blanketed in dull gray clouds. In the shadow of the forest, birds fell silent one by one, leaving only the whisper of wind through the trees. Along the edge of a quiet hill garden, Rael ran with enthusiasm, clutching a bundle of wildflowers tightly to his chest—petals still wet with dew.

"Hyung!" he called out joyfully, breath ragged, cheeks flushed from running. "I found your favorite ones!"

He ran across dirt paths, past twisted roots and scattered stones. His clothes were torn at the sleeve, his feet muddy, but the smile on his face remained bright. He was proud. Excited. Certain that the one person he loved the most would be waiting beneath that familiar tree at the campsite—waiting to see the flowers he picked just for him.

But when he arrived, he found only stillness.

The man who had fed him, held him when he cried, who protected him from the cruel words of the village—his hyung, his home, his world—was sitting with his back resting against the tree.

Smiling. But not breathing.

"Hyung...?" the boy whispered, voice trembling.

There was no answer.

"I got you flowers... see?" He placed the tiny bouquet on the man's unmoving lap. "You said you liked purple, right? These are the purplest ones I could find..."

Still, no response.

"Hyung... d-don't leave me... I don't... I don't want to be alone.... come back... I promise I won't be naughty... please.."

In that moment, with the forest quiet and the sky bleeding gray above them, a small boy's cry broke through the silence. His sobs echoed through the trees, raw and aching.

That day, Rael lost everything.

Thirteen years later. Azveren City.

The skies here were always choked with smoke. Steel towers rose like jagged teeth across the horizon, their lights cold and artificial. In this new world, nothing was kind. Nothing was warm.

Except one man—Rael Viren Astor. Or rather, the coldest of them all.

Now thirty, he ruled the underground like a phantom. Warrior-cut hair, storm-grey eyes, a towering figure in a black coat, leather gloves, and a silver cross necklace pressed to his chest like a buried memory.

They said he had no heart. They said he felt nothing. But no one knew how he still sat alone at night in the garden behind his mansion, touching that old necklace and whispering a name no one else remembered.

"Hyung... Where did you go?"

The next morning, Rael received news that the young man he 'bought' had arrived. Rael's men brought him into Rael's office to be investigated first. After the blindfold was removed, Rael was immediately fixated on his eyes because... he knew in his mind suddenly but Rael couldn't shake the feeling that the young man in front of him was the one he knew so long ago.... but he had to be calm.

The sun hung lazily over Kestrin City, but within the Astor mansion, time felt irrelevant. It was 7 a.m., and Rael stood at the upper balcony—black coffee in hand, gaze distant as he looked down upon the manicured estate.

There, below, someone was sweeping.

Light steps, soft movements, head slightly bowed as the wind pushed strands of hair from his face. As if the world itself slowed down to watch him move.

Him.

'The one who cared for me when I was nothing. The one who held my hand when I was afraid. Now he was sweeping fallen leaves off my garden floor, unaware of who I am.'

Rael tilted his head, his fingers tightening on the iron railing.

Every morning, the young man rose without a word, dressed neatly, and went straight to work. Never a complaint. Never a refusal. Not out of fear—but because... that was just how he had always been.

Even now—without memories, without a past—he remained gentle. Still that small light that once warmed Rael's frozen heart.

Every time he swept the garden, he paused briefly near the back fence. The same spot where Rael, as a boy, used to hide and cry after being pelted with stones by the village kids. The same spot where he—older, kinder—sat on a creaking wooden swing, unpacking homemade lunch.

The same spot where Rael last saw him alive.

And now, that same young man stood in the very place where he died... Staring at the old tree, oblivious to the grief it still held.

Rael stepped away from the balcony.

He moved down the hallway, past portraits he didn't care about, descending the staircase with soundless steps. Finally, he reached the glass door that opened to the garden.

The young man hadn't noticed him. He was watering the flowers now.

White blossoms.

Rael watched in silence. The same flowers Rael used to gather as a child, secretly, to give to his hyung on his birthday.

Rael stood, hands folded behind his back, unmoving. He watched his back—still slender, still gentle—bend to tend the roots of life he didn't know he once helped grow.

"You work very quietly," he asked calmly while looking at him, clearly... his heart was aching for something, but his face remained cold and unreadable.

It's hurt because even though he stood just a few steps away, he didn't call his name. He didn't hug him. He was no longer the person who wiped his tears at night. But he remained his light.

Rael was his master. But what hurt more was this: I was still his child. Still silently wishing he'd pat his head and whisper, "It's okay. You've grown strong."