Note: This chapter contains a flashback.

Taemin let go of the metal holder and allowed the door to close behind him. Most of the audience stayed inside; some were journalists, and the rest were the cellists’ own family members crowding in to congratulate them for the successful ensemble. Even Kibum was still inside, leaving Taemin on his own outside the theatre to humour his thoughts.

“Was I being too harsh? Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

The internal monologue started and, before it even progressed into something deeper, Taemin sighed in surrender. There was no way he could win over this personal argument with himself. True, he was upset that Minho just walked past him and pretended like he was nobody but a random stranger coming in to watch the cello performance, but was that reason enough for him to throw such words in Minho’s direction? The cellist had an eventful day. Was it truly deserving that he was treated that way?

“I should probably call him later tonight and apologise,” Taemin mumbled, glancing at the door once again before walking further away from the entrance. He wanted to wait for Kibum, but the elder might want to spend more time with Jinki. It was a big night, after all. Taking public transport wouldn’t be so bad.

On his way out of the entry, Taemin had his eyes focused on the sweet details carved on the outer wall of the theatre. He was giving it his absolute immense concentration to notice another human shadow looming over his form, eerie and daunting to snap the artist out of his creative imagination.

“So, you’re Taemin.”

The aforementioned man froze, gaze pinned to the spot, shaky and out of focus. He recognised that voice.

“I was right, then.”

It took Taemin long enough to gather the courage to steel himself and turn around, confirming the fact that it was indeed who he thought the person would be. His eyes met a pair of round ones, almost similar to Minho’s, except they lacked warmth and sincerity, devoid of emotion and judgingly empty.

“Yes, Sir,” Taemin replied once he could not ride the silence anymore, posture immediately fixed as he dipped his head for a bow. 

“Do you know who I am?” The man asked while dismissing the act of respect shown.

“Yes, Sir,” Taemin repeated, swallowing the lump that gradually formed in his throat. God, not now.

“Good. Because I know you, Taemin,” Soongyeom said without looking at the person standing right before him. The gesture was very condescending, but Taemin knew better than to react to that. “I know you more than my son does. I know you’re an art student, currently in your third year at Seoul National University. You’re also the only child in the family. Or… should I say," he paused and swatted his hand vaguely, pretending to ponder. “The only child left?”

Taemin widened his eyes, and a visible smirk greeted him right after.

“I know your father used to have a law firm, too. But it collapsed, didn’t it? Financial distress. Five months in and he filed for bankruptcy. Your mother used to work as a nurse but couldn’t bear being in the hospital after what happened to your brother. Is that right? Did you know about that?”

Truth after painful truth was announced. While Taemin knew every single thing mentioned was true, his heart chose to harbour anger instead, burning bright red and hot that he had to gnash his teeth. Reel it in, Taemin. It wouldn't last long.

“Yes, Sir,” came his default answer. If Taemin allowed himself to say more, he