Page 155 of Godless Saints

Cillian grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “I quite like Teddy Bear Oppa, actually.”

I sighed. “Okay. Whatever. Show Cillian around. I’ll talk to Mom.”

Yuna squealed and started dragging him toward the garden. “We have dogs! And a cat! And bunnies in the garden. Do you like bunnies? Do you like BTS too?”

Cillian’s voice drifted back. “What’s BTS?”

“Oh no,” Yuna said, horrified. “Let me play their music for you.”

My mother walked up beside me, watching them disappear around the corner with Yuna’s laughter still echoing. “You might have some competition.”

A dry laugh scraped out of me. “He’s making this very difficult.”

Her hand cracked across the back of my head. The sting bloomed hot across my scalp. My shoulders curled inward on instinct.

“This isn’t just disappointing, Hyun-seo. It’s humiliating. After everything we poured into you.” Her fingers smoothed my lapel, almost tender. “There were men who could have strengthened us. Instead you chose an Ashbourne.” She spat the name. “Every photograph, every whisper now drags our name through the same gutter he crawled out of.” She smiled as footsteps passed. “Your father has spent weeks cleaning up after you. Investors. Board members. All of them wondering if the Moon heir has finally lost his mind. And here you are. Smiling like it doesn’t cost us anything.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing followed.

She stepped back, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve. “Wash your face before dinner. At least pretend we raised you better than this.”

Bile hit the back of my throat. I swallowed hard. The gravel shifted under my feet. I watched her walk toward the car waiting to collect Grandmother, heels clicking. My legs almost gave out. “Yes, Mother.”

The guesthouse was quiet when I reached it. Bags already unpacked. Cillian was still outside with Yuna.

I locked the bathroom door.

The mirror showed me before I could look away.

House of Moon. The perfect heir. My mother’s son. My throat closed. Date a girl. Marry a woman. Give them grandchildren. Be the son they raised.

The words didn’t sound like mine anymore. They sounded like hers. Like Father’s.

What’s wrong with you?

I gripped the sink until my knuckles blanched. Why can’t you just be normal? My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, arms wrapped around my shins, forehead pressed to my knees so no one would hear it.

Not even Cillian.

Especially not Cillian.

Please. Just let me be normal.

Breathing scraped raw in my chest. Again and again. Twenty-five years of learning exactly who I was supposed to be. I knew the script. I could still recite every line. The problem was I didn’t fit inside it anymore.

One night in Saint Lucia. And I couldn’t even make myself regret it. Because loving him felt so fucking right. What’s wrong with me? I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. The mirror didn’t answer. I looked away first.

If Mother walked in right now she would see exactly what she paid for: the heir who still couldn’t scrub the Ashbourne out of his blood.

I didn’t know how long it took to force the air back in. When my hands stopped shaking I splashed water on my face, fixed the mask, and walked out. I collapsed face-first onto the bed, still fully dressed.

I didn’t move when the door opened. Footsteps. Cillian.

“How long have you been lying there?”

“Long enough.”

He moved closer. The bed dipped as he straddled my thighs. His hands settled on my back.