Chapter Seventeen – A Cage of Gold
The black sedan rolled silently up the winding drive, its tires crunching against the gravel as the family estate came into view.
Joon-Ho leaned back in his seat, shoulders tense. He had already been summoned here not long ago—for the charity gala his mother insisted he attend. But this time was different. The message had been sharp, almost commanding: “Your father and I must speak with you.”
That was never good.
The attendants bowed when he stepped out, but their politeness only felt like formality. The estate was as polished as ever: marble floors gleaming, chandeliers burning bright. It was beautiful, yes—but to Joon-Ho, it felt like a cage glittering in gold.
When he entered the sitting room, both of them were waiting. His mother, regal in a silk hanbok, sat upright as if posing for a portrait. His father, in a tailored suit, leaned back in his chair with quiet authority.
“Joon-Ho,” his father said first, his voice low and commanding. “You’re a man now. Twenty-two. It’s time you start acting like one.”
Joon-Ho bowed his head slightly, masking his unease. “Father.”
His mother’s voice followed, cool and sharp. “We have tolerated your freedom for long enough. But now, responsibilities must come before childish distractions.”
Joon-Ho’s chest tightened. He could already feel where this conversation was heading.
His father adjusted his cufflinks, his eyes narrowing on his son. “We’ve been speaking with other families. About alliances. About your future wife.”
The word hit Joon-Ho like a blow, though his face stayed carefully blank.
“Suitable daughters,” his mother added, her tone laced with unspoken judgment. “Girls who understand what it means to bear this family’s name.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Unlike the foreign girl I’ve heard whispers about.”
The air in the room froze. Joon-Ho’s head snapped up before he could stop himself. “It’s nothing,” he lied, forcing calm into his voice. “She’s not important.”
But his father wasn’t so easily fooled. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “If you care about this family, you will make sure it stays nothing.”
Joon-Ho’s jaw tightened. Every muscle in his body screamed to lash out, to defend Amara, to tell them she wasn’t “nothing.” But he stayed silent. Because in this house, silence was survival.
His mother’s lips curved faintly, almost satisfied. “Good. Then you know what is expected. Do not let foolish distractions destroy your future.”
Later, when he walked the long corridors of the mansion, the glittering chandeliers above seemed to mock him. His father’s voice echoed in his mind—cold, heavy, final.
“If you care about this family, you will make sure it stays nothing.”
But all Joon-Ho could see was Amara’s face. The way she laughed. The way she looked at him like he was someone more than his name.
The cage was closing in, but his heart had already escaped.
