The night before...

You were born in South Korea. You are Korean. Your family name is, and will always be, Jung.

You are not who anyone else says you are, your mother repeats into your ears every night. You are no one but my son. She holds you close in the warmth of her arms, pressing your face into her bosom as she rubs soothing circles into your back.

You were born in South Korea. You are Korean. Your family name is, and will always be, Jung.

Do not let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

For nine years, you wondered why she would use those words to lull you to sleep each evening. You never questioned it – too afraid that your mother would succumb to one of her...moments again if you did – but thoughts concerning why she even bothered implanting such a mantra in your mind never ceased to plague you. You know where you’re from. You know what you are. And you most certainly know that you are Jung Yunho. So why did your mother always seem to treat you as if you would somehow forget?

It’s only when the summer equinox is nearing its end that you learn the very reason why. Looking back, you wish you never had. The revelation comes too soon for your liking – much too soon – and leaves you utterly traumatized as you begin to wonder whether you ever were the boy your mother insists you are.

His name is Takarai Gakuto. He barges into your home a few days after the departure of your only friend, Jaejoong – you can’t even think about him right now – with dozens of men flanking his intimidating form. Their swords are drawn, faces blank as they gather in your home.

Your mother stands from her spot by the fireplace at their sudden intrusion, a hand raised to her chest as she asks in a voice louder and more toxic than you’ve ever heard her speak, “what are you doing here, you bastard?”

You remain silent, huddled in the corner your mother has forced you into, as the man calmly introduces himself in stilted Korean. It’s how you learn his name – Japanese? – and it’s how you discover that he’s traveled a long ways in order to see the very woman who turned his father into a fool.

You’re confused by his words, eyes darting back and forth between him and the rigid body of your mother. They’re staring at one another, Yoomi not backing down despite being heads shorter than the painfully relaxed man, and you mull over whether you should do something.

Can you do something?

Gakuto answers for you when his head turns to face where you stand. His cerulean eyes – an odd color you have never seen – seem to pierce through you, and the leer that pulls back his lips sends shivers crawling down your spine.

“Why, if it isn’t the legendary Inko-kun himself,” he growls, though his frightening smile is still in place. “I have heard so much about you. Do you know who I am?”

He takes a step towards you, face contorted with dark mischief, but he is immediately halted by your mother moving to stand between the two of you. Her arms are spread out wide, and a defiant frown is on her face as she yells, “stay away from him! Don’t come any closer or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” He barks out a laugh. “How ludicrous. You know my chichi-ue would never forgive anyone who harms me. Not even you.”

From the back room, you hear Jihye begin to wail. It’s time for her evening meal, and her cries are noisy and echoing throughout your home as she demands your mother’s presence. Yoomi’s eyes dart towards her bedroom, and Gakuto takes that moment to shove her frail body aside. Your mother tumbles into the floorboards, yelping in pain, and your back feels cold as you step away from the wall to rush over to her.

“Who are you?” you snap as you come to kneel beside her fallen form. You ignore the way your voice quivers, body shrinking in on itself as Gakuto stares down at you. He’s amused. And Jihye is still crying. “W-why are you bothering us? What did we do wrong?”

Gakuto mockingly taps his chin in thought, eyes rolling heavenward as he hums aloud. “What did you do wrong…? Nothing? Everything? I’m not really sure.”

“Leave us…” Your mother