Bound by silence
Yoon sat behind the polished glass desk in his sleek, modern office, the city skyline stretching far beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows. As the CEO of one of the fastest-growing tech companies in the country, Yoon had achieved everything he’d ever dreamed of in his past life. Power. Influence. Success. Yet, despite his accomplishments, he felt like an outsider in his own world.
The face of a confident, calculating CEO never wavered. He smiled in meetings, made important decisions with ruthless precision, and steered his company toward greater success. Yet inside, a quiet storm raged. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something—someone—missing. There were moments when he found himself staring at his reflection in the glass, his mind adrift in the haze of distant memories, a ghost of a life he didn’t fully understand.
Most unsettling was the fleeting sensation that someone was watching him. Someone who knew him, intimately. Every time the thought crossed his mind, Yoon quickly dismissed it, retreating behind the wall of professionalism he had so carefully built.
But then came the nights when he couldn’t sleep. When his mind raced, and the whispers of the past seemed to beckon. On those nights, Yoon would leave his penthouse apartment and wander the quiet streets of the city, trying to quell the unease that gnawed at him.
Joon’s life, by contrast, was far simpler, or at least it seemed that way on the surface. As Yoon’s personal bodyguard, he spent his days shadowing the CEO, always a few steps behind, ever watchful. With his towering frame and imposing presence, Joon was a figure that demanded attention, though he never sought it. His job was to protect, to be there when needed, and to blend into the background when not.
Every day felt the same—accompanying Yoon to meetings, walking him to and from his car, ensuring his safety when the threat level spiked. Joon’s life was predictable, yet monotonous, and as much as he tried to lose himself in his work, there was something that pulled him back into the same pattern of thoughts.
It was Yoon, of course. No matter how much Joon tried to keep a professional distance, there was a magnetic pull between them—a connection that neither could ignore. When Joon first began working for Yoon, he had tried to distance himself emotionally, but over time, he realized that the more he protected Yoon, the more he cared.
Joon’s protective instincts weren’t just a result of his job. They were personal. He didn’t remember everything from their past life, but there were flashes—snippets of a time when Yoon had been his everything. A brother. A friend. A person he would lay his life down for without hesitation. Those memories, fragmented and elusive, often left Joon standing in the shadows, longing to act on a bond he didn’t fully understand.
And so, Joon remained in the periphery, quietly ensuring Yoon’s safety, his every movement monitored by the silent weight of their unspoken connection.
Their interactions were few, but always charged with a silent understanding. Yoon would glance up from his desk, his sharp eyes briefly catching Joon’s gaze across the room. There was a flicker of something—something familiar in Joon’s eyes, a subtle recognition that lingered between them. But neither of them spoke of it. The memories of their past lives were locked away in a place they were both unwilling to access.
At times, Yoon would catch himself watching Joon, noticing how the bodyguard’s presence seemed to soothe a restlessness in him. There was an undeniable comfort in the way Joon stood guard, his silence speaking louder than words. Yoon’s thoughts often drifted to moments they shared long ago—before the deaths, before everything had gone wrong. He remembered their bond, and for a brief moment, he would wonder why it felt like it had been severed, only to realize that Joon was still by his side.
Joon, too, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. There were moments when he caught himself staring at Yoon, a surge of emotion bubbling up that he didn’t know how to handle. It wasn’t just his job anymore—it was a deep, nagging feeling that he had a duty to protect not just Yoon’s physical safety, but something more. Something intangible.
Joon had come to realize that his role as Yoon’s bodyguard was more than just a profession. It was a calling. A responsibility that went beyond his duties. He was there to shield Yoon from the dangers that lurked in the shadows—but also, perhaps, to protect him from the truths of their past life.
It wasn’t until the first real threat came—an anonymous warning of a security breach targeting Yoon—that things began to change. The message was cryptic, a coded warning that suggested someone was getting closer, someone who knew Yoon’s past and was now targeting him for it. It was the kind of threat that sent shivers down Joon’s spine. He couldn’t ignore it, not with the way Yoon’s life was now so intricately tied to his own.
Late that night, Joon stood outside Yoon’s penthouse, his mind racing. He wasn’t just protecting a CEO anymore—he was protecting a piece of his own soul. The memories that had once been buried deep within him were starting to surface, and with them, an urgency to ensure Yoon’s safety at all costs.
As Yoon entered the lobby, he turned to Joon with a rare look of acknowledgment.
Yoon
“We’ve got a situation,” he said, his tone far more serious than usual. “You’ve been working security around me for a while now... But I have a feeling it’s about to get worse.”
Joon
Joon nodded, his jaw tightening. “I’ll handle it.”
There was no hesitation in his voice. It wasn’t just a job anymore—it was personal.
As the days went by, Yoon and Joon’s unspoken bond grew stronger. With every passing threat, with every challenge, they found themselves drawn closer together. Yoon’s desire to uncover the truth of his past life only intensified, and Joon’s protective instincts began to intertwine with his growing feelings of attachment.
The moments when their eyes met, fleeting but charged with a depth neither could explain, became more frequent. Yoon felt the urge to ask Joon more, to reach out, but he held back, unsure of how to navigate the maze of emotions and memories that seemed to pull them together.
For Joon, the more he protected Yoon, the more he realized just how much Yoon mattered to him—not just as his boss, but as his brother, as someone who had once been his everything. The walls between them, carefully constructed by time and fear, were starting to crack, and soon, neither would be able to ignore the past any longer.
What neither of them realized yet was that their past lives were already beginning to collide with their present ones in ways they couldn’t predict. The enemies who had once torn them apart were still watching, still waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But Yoon and Joon, no matter how lost they felt, were beginning to piece together the broken fragments of their past.
The connection between them was undeniable, and as they faced new challenges together, they would soon realize that their bond could never truly be severed. Not in this life. Not in any life.
Comments