If anybody asked him at what point in his twenty-three years of living he really felt the worst, then his answer would definitely be right now. Standing in front of the ceiling-to-floor glass window overlooking the beauty of Seoul, knowing deep inside that he feared nothing except heights and failure, Donghae felt like falling. Being inside this familiar yet foreign room placed on the thirty-fifth floor, it was the best possible answer to the question at the moment.

1:15 PM is the most horrible time to be stuck in here.

Frowning when he caught his reflection on the wall mirror adjacent to the window, he took few steps back. Donghae knew he was afraid. He felt it. He also knew nothing could ease his fear, at least not at the moment. The view outside was magnificent, the inside even more so. That he would not have the heart to deny. Yet as priceless and luxurious as it was, he failed to fully appreciate it. Not when he knew that the building he was currently in sheltered monsters. Two dreadful and appalling monsters to be specific.

He sighed but still observed the happenings on the streets of Seoul. The people were mere ants and the cars and buses resembled nothing bigger than toy cars from where he was standing. Not too close where he felt anxious just by looking down yet not too far to not be able to see anything below. He could not remember how long he was standing there. Maybe ten minutes...fifteen minutes...thirty...forty-five...or maybe he was there since an hour ago. He just failed to notice.

He heard the door opened and then closed behind him after a blink of an eye. He did not turn around. He just waited for the person to acknowledge his presence. Donghae knew that scent all too well. That familiar sandalwood with hints of patchouli and ginger was just too accustomed to him to ignore. It brought him back to the good old days—his childhood days to be exact and he never felt this strong urge to run and hide. But no! He would never do that. Donghae was no longer that naïve seven-year-old boy with high-pitched laugh and a missing front tooth. He was now a twenty-three year old university student with his own solid principles and full strong teeth.

“Donghae-ssi, the Honorable would be here in an hour.”

Remarkable. What an absolute waste of my time.

He rolled his eyes at the statement. It would be a total lie if he said he did not expect that. Donghae finally turned around, a pair of blank almond brown eyes meeting those of sunken mahogany ones which screamed that of an old age. His face did not change a bit. Maybe it morphed a little to catch up with his age but if he remembered correctly, it was still that very same face—face resembling and matching to that of his childhood hero.

“I couldn’t believe I would see you this soon, Mr. Kwon,” Donghae maintained a poker face, giving the almost sixty-year old man in front of him a slight nod. It only meant he acknowledged the older man’s presence, nothing else.

The man chuckled and he knew it was genuine. After all, he had always been a genuine person. He was just serving and aiding a wrong boss.

“Drop the honorific, my child. You know I basically raised you.” Soft chuckles coming from the man soon filled the humongous room, but Donghae’s face remained stoic.

That was not a lie but it was not the absolute truth either. Kwon Yul was the most loyal and most trusted right-hand man of his father. He had been serving him even before Donghae’s birth and he grew closer to him—way closer than he would ever feel with his father in his lifetime. Just like what he had said, he basically raised him. He attended to his needs as a child. He dropped him and picked him up from school. He played with him when no one else did. He joined him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a span of ten to fifteen years. Donghae could not remember the exact detail. He even attended the school meetings with him and Donghae did not know what to feel but he knew he was thankful for the man. More than thankful in fact.

My childhood hero. That was what he used to call him. For him, Mr. Yul was more of a father to him than his own father. One call from Donghae and the man would come running even when the latter was on the other side of the city with his father. He was and would forever be Donghae’s hero even if the circumstances shifted years ago.

His mother had always been out of the equation. The woman did not hate his existence, but she did not like him either. What mattered to her was her husband and her husband alone. As far as he remembered, he barely saw his parents at home. His father was always out, visiting cities after cities and regions after regions, and his mother was with him all the time. The media deemed his parents as the perfect couple. Lee Donggun, his father, a very reputable man with a great sense of his work and his mother, Min Yoori, the always so supportive wife of the judge. A perfect couple indeed but he knew better than to believe the media. He knew what went on behind the curtains. Lee Donggun was nothing but a control freak, manipulative bastard while Min Yoori was nothing but his father’s pet. A who was blinded by Lee Donggun’s wealth.

Of course when he grew conscious of his situation, he realized that Mr. Kwon’s loyalty still resided and would forever be on his father’s side and not to him. As painful as it sounded, he accepted that. When he entered college, he never saw the man again and Donghae knew the reason why. His father.

Looking at the man in front of him, he felt like crying. He wanted to hug him and possibly not let go. He wanted to cry like a baby. He wanted to show the man that he was still his little Hae whom he raised like his own son. If there’s someone in the world who could provide him with the same level of comfort as Heechul, it would be the man in the same room as him. But Donghae was aware of his whereabouts. He knew better than to expose his weaknesses in his father’s territory. Not today. Not ever.

And so he just stood there, still with an expression that was unreadable. Mr. Kwon probably noticed his lack of cooperation and interest to have a conversation, he just sighed in defeat as he gently walked towards the door. But before he could close it, his sincere face found that of Donghae’s.

“I know you’re hurt, my child. But always remember that it was for the best. It was for your best.”

And immediately after that, he realized he was alone with his thoughts once again.

How come it was for my best?

An hour unbearably passed by and just like what the man had told him, he found himself face to face in front of the person he used to call “Appa”. Now, he would rather call him “The Honorable” just like the rest of the people in the country. He looked exactly like him and Donghae hated that fact. It was like seeing how he would look like decades from now. And he hated it. He absolutely hated it to the core.

The Honorable dismissed Mr. Kwon with just a motion of his hand and Donghae instantly recognized his power. He seemed more invincible now that he was promoted from a high court judge to a chief justice.

“Donghae...”

The man just barely called his name and yet it held so much authority and power. He contemplated whether to be as respectful as possible or the other way around. He just knew he felt a sense of pride each time he sees the man seething in anger. Why? Because during those moments he knew he won against him.

He respected the man, he truly does, but not beyond the line of respect coming from an aspiring lawyer to a highly valued judge. He no longer viewed him as someone related to him. No! He unquestionably despised the thought of them being related.

“You can sit. You don’t have to look stupid and brainless standing in front of my table,” the chief justice said. His face void of emotions mirrored his own.

Donghae weighed the pros and cons of being disrespectful at that moment and although the cons were much heavier, he still decided to push the man’s buttons.

“I apologize for my stupidity and brainlessness, Your Honor. I believe I got it from my father,” he scoffed provocatively. “But I would much rather appreciate it if you just go straight to the point. This place gives me chills, but of course you know that. In fact, you know everything, Your Honor.”

“I hate playing games with you, Lee Donghae. I’m a very busy person and I know you are aware of that. And just like what you have said, I know everything. And that included your suspension two weeks ago. So, would you mind sparing me the details on why it happened?”

Donghae faked a low gasp, “I thought you knew everything, Your Honor? I must have been mistaken. Maybe I looked up to you too much.”

“Quit playing games with me, boy. The reason why I called for your pathetic excuse of a presence is to tell you that one more misbehavior in your school and I would really disown you. I’m not kidding, Lee Donghae.”

You should have done that years ago. Maybe disowning me was way better.

“Now, get out of my office and go back to your school. You are such a waste of my time,” and the chief justice pressed a button on what looked like a palm-sized remote. Just then, Mr. Kwon entered the room. “Yul, take this pathetic kid back to his school.”

Donghae was now seething in anger but he masked it. He admitted. He lost this one.

“What am I? A kid? No need. I can go back on my own.”

And that was his last words before he was out of his father’s office, slamming the door behind him intentionally.

You want me to go back to school now? When all I wanted was to get away? Dream on, Your Honor! 

Something about the way Heechul entered the bubble tea shop made Hyukjae thought his friend was furious. Way moooore furious than he initially thought.

He stood there, waiting patiently for Heechul to find him because he was definitely sure the latter did not come to order a bubble tea. Nope. He looked too manic for that. When their eyes met, Heechul strutted to the counter in just four big steps. Something was up. Something was definitely up.