Chapter 4

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting warm golden rays across the room where Minho and Taehyung were engaged in yet another lively game. Laughter echoed as Minho giggled uncontrollably, his small hands clutching a pillow that he swung with little success at Taehyung, who deftly dodged every attempt.

“Missed me again!” Taehyung teased, spinning away with exaggerated movements that made Minho laugh even harder.

“You’re too fast, hyung!” Minho exclaimed, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

Finally, Taehyung let himself be hit, falling dramatically onto the bed. “Oh no! The mighty knight Minho has defeated me!” he declared, clutching his side as if gravely wounded.

Minho climbed onto the bed, standing victoriously. “I win! I win!” he chanted, his face glowing with pride.

After the morning escapades, Taehyung decided it was time to shift gears. “Alright, champion. Let’s go make some breakfast. I’m starving!”

Minho clapped his hands together. “Can I help?”

“Of course! You can be my assistant chef.”

Together, they headed to the kitchen, which was surprisingly quiet and neatly organized. Taehyung rolled up his sleeves, tying a makeshift apron around Minho with a soft chuckle. “Now you look like a real chef.”

Minho beamed, proud of his new title. “What are we making today, hyung?”

“Something special,” Taehyung said with a grin. “Strawberry pancakes with chocolate syrup.”

Minho’s eyes widened in delight. “Yay! I love chocolate!”

They got to Work, with Minho helping to stir the batter while Taehyung sliced fresh strawberries and prepared the pan. The kitchen soon filled with the sweet aroma of pancakes cooking, mingled with the warm scent of melted chocolate.

When the pancakes were ready, Taehyung carefully stacked them on a plate, arranging the strawberries on top and drizzling a generous amount of chocolate syrup over them. He placed the masterpiece in front of Minho, who stared at it in awe.

“Wow, hyung! It looks so yummy!” Minho exclaimed.

“It’s all yours, buddy,” Taehyung said, ruffling his hair.

They sat together at the table, enjoying their sweet breakfast. Minho took a big bite, his face lighting up as the flavors burst in his mouth. “This is the best breakfast ever!”

Taehyung chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”

At the table, they sat across from each other, their plates steaming with food. Minho took a sip of his juice before looking at Taehyung with wide, curious eyes.

“Hyung, what do you like?” he asked, his voice innocent and eager.

Taehyung paused mid-bite, caught off guard by the sudden question. “What do I like?”

Minho nodded earnestly. “Yeah! Like your favorite things—food, games, colors!”

Taehyung smiled, setting his fork down. “Well, let’s see... I love ramen, especially the spicy kind. I like painting and reading books when I have free time. And my favorite color is blue. What about you, Minho?”

The boy thought for a moment, tapping his chin with a small finger. “I like pancakes with lots of syrup, drawing pictures, and my favorite color is green because it’s the color of grass and trees!”

“That’s a good choice,” Taehyung said with a grin. “Green’s a happy color.”

Minho nodded, munching on his toast before suddenly asking, “Hyung, do you have a family?”

Taehyung’s smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. “I do, but I’m not very close to them. What about you, Minho? You have your daddy, right?”

Minho’s face fell at the mention of his father. “Daddy is always busy. I don’t see him much,” he murmured.

Taehyung reached out to pat Minho’s head gently. “Well, you’ve got me now, okay? We’ll have lots of fun together.”

The boy brightened at that, nodding enthusiastically.

After breakfast, the two cleaned up and continued exploring the house. Taehyung’s curiosity often got the better of him, and as they wandered through the hallways, he noticed a particular door at the far end. It was large, with intricate carvings on the wood, and it seemed oddly intimidating.

“Minho, what’s that room?” Taehyung asked, pointing toward it.

Minho hesitated, his small hand gripping Taehyung’s shirt. “That’s Daddy’s room,” he said in a hushed voice. “We’re not supposed to go in there.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why not?”

“Daddy doesn’t like anyone going in. Not even me,” Minho explained, his tone tinged with fear.

Taehyung crouched down to look Minho in the eye. “Are you scared of your daddy, Minho?”

The boy bit his lip, nodding slightly. “He gets angry if I go near his study or his room.”

Taehyung frowned but decided not to press further. He stood and ruffled Minho’s hair. “Alright, we won’t go in. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

But as they turned to leave, something pulled Taehyung back. There was an air of mystery about the room that he couldn’t shake. Against his better judgment, he placed a hand on the doorknob.

“Hyung, no!” Minho whispered urgently, tugging on his sleeve. “We’re not allowed!”

“I’m just curious,” Taehyung whispered back, trying to reassure him. “I won’t touch anything, I promise.”

He slowly pushed the door open, revealing a dimly lit space filled with bookshelves, an imposing desk, and a faint scent of cologne lingering in the air. The room was immaculate, almost unnaturally so, with everything arranged in perfect order.

“Hyung, let’s go,” Minho pleaded, his voice trembling.

Before Taehyung could respond, the sound of a door opening startled them both. From an adjoining bathroom, a figure emerged, and Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat.

A man stood there, his tall, muscular frame wrapped only in a towel slung low around his waist. His damp hair clung to his forehead, water droplets glistening on his broad shoulders. His sharp, piercing eyes landed on Taehyung, and his expression darkened.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” the man demanded, his deep voice resonating with authority.

Minho immediately hid behind Taehyung, clutching his shirt tightly. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy,” he stammered.

Taehyung swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the man who could only be Minho’s father. The air grew thick with tension as the man took a step forward, his eyes narrowing.

“This is my private space,” he said coldly, his gaze shifting to Taehyung. “I don’t care who you are. Stay out.”

Taehyung nodded quickly, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Without another word, he took Minho’s hand and quickly left the room, shutting the door behind them.

As they walked back to the playroom, Minho looked up at Taehyung with wide, fearful eyes. “Are you mad, hyung?”

Taehyung shook his head, forcing a smile. “No, Minho. I’m not mad. Let’s just... not go back there, okay?”

Minho nodded, relief washing over his face. But as Taehyung sat down, his thoughts lingered on the man in the towel. There was something about him—his presence, his cold demeanor—that sent a shiver down Taehyung’s spine.

For the first time since arriving in this household, Taehyung felt a shadow of unease creeping into his heart. but he didn't saw that man's face clearly.

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