January in Seoul.
The city was a canvas of white—snow blanketing rooftops, sidewalks, and the branches of trees lining the boulevards.
Even the sky hung pale and still, cloaked in wintry fog that dulled the skyline. Despite the season's hush, life in Seoul marched on with its usual rhythm.
People commuted. Heaters buzzed behind cafe windows. The hum of the ordinary resumed after the New Year's celebrations.
In the back seat of a cab, Jihoon sat in quiet contemplation, watching the city roll past. He wasn't heading to an ordinary destination—it was Hotel Shilla, a business owned and managed by his aunt, Lee Boojin.
The summons had come suddenly that morning: a phone call, short and direct.
"It's important. Don't be late," she'd said.
That had been enough to stir his curiosity—and unease. After all, he had deliberately kept his distance from the family, wary of becoming just another chess piece in their endless feud.
The cab pulled into the hotel's circular driveway, tires crunching softly against the snow-laced pavement.
A secretary was already waiting for him in the lobby. With a polite bow, she led him silently through quiet corridors to Boojin's private office. There was no small talk. No delay.
At the door, she paused. "She's expecting you. Go ahead and enter."
Jihoon nodded, inhaled a breath of anticipation, and pushed open the heavy door.
The room, as always, was modern and pristine. His aunt sat behind her desk, composed as ever—her eyes calm but unreadable. But it wasn't her presence that caught him off guard.
It was the girl.
A teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, sat on the guest sofa—stiff-backed and uncertain, her hands folded in her lap. She looked up at him shyly. There was something in her eyes, a quiet resilience behind the timidity.
She looked… familiar. Too familiar.
Jihoon blinked, staring. He couldn't place her at first, but the shape of her face, the curve of her eyes, the expression caught between defiance and discomfort—it triggered something deep in his memory.
A memory not from this life, but from the one before.
He remained frozen until a soft cough snapped him out of it.
"Cgh, cgh... Jihoon-ah," Lee Boojin said dryly. "Stop standing there like a fool. Come and take a sit for yourself."
Snapping back, Jihoon cleared his throat, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. "Sorry, Imo. It's just… she looks really familiar."
Boojin raised an eyebrow, amused. "Of course she does, baboya. She's your cousin."
His eyes widened. "Cousin? But… I've met the whole family. I don't remember her from any gathering."
"She's not someone you've met before," Boojin said, her tone turning quiet. "But she's still family."
Then, turning to the girl, she added gently, "Jieun-ah, why don't you go down to the lounge and get some ice cream? Imo needs to speak with your oppa privately."
The girl—Jieun—stood obediently, bowed, and left the room without a word.
Once the door clicked shut, Jihoon turned back to his aunt, confusion plain on his face.
"She's Lee Jieun," Boojin began. "Her father… was your grandfather's son."
Jihoon blinked. "What?!"
"She's the grandchild of your grandfather's mistress."
The words landed like stones, sending ripples through Jihoon's mind.
"I know it's a family scandal," Boojin continued.
"Your grandmother knew about it from the start. But she just chose to erase it—no names, no records, no photographs. She forbade anyone from even acknowledging the girl existed."
Jihoon leaned back in his chair, trying to absorb the truth.
A secret lineage. A hidden cousin.
And her face—that face—from another world.
His thoughts spiraled.
Lee Jieun.
No. It couldn't be.
But it was.
That name. That face.
He knew them from a different life.
Then, finally, the connection clicked.
"IU," he murmured under his breath.
"What?" Boojin asked.
"Nothing," Jihoon said quickly. "It's just… a lot to take in," he added, carefully hiding what he was really thinking.
In his past life, IU was a famous star—known for the strength of her voice and her heartbreaking childhood. Her parents had gone bankrupt after being swindled out of all their money, leaving them with no choice but to work tirelessly to pay off their debts, and IU had to do the same.
But this Jieun, in this life, wasn't a singer. Not yet, perhaps. Here, she was a hidden relative of his, the secret child of a generational shame.
The collision of two realities twisted in Jihoon's mind. If Jieun's life was different now, what else had changed in this world?
How many people or event from his former life were now walking down different paths?
Would the world revolve in the same existence that he knew from his past life?
The question lingered in his mind.
As Jihoon sat in silent turmoil, Boojin rubbed her temples. Her voice dropped lower, wearier.
"You think this is easy for me?" she said. "My father—your grandfather—told me to handle this discreetly. Without shaming your grandmother." She thought to herself that Jihoon, too, couldn't accept the reality of this news, just as she hadn't when she first learned of it. But the fact wasn't just about that.
She paused, her eyes distant, lost in the image of Lee Kunhee giving her the directive. He hadn't asked for much—only to protect the family name and hide the girl's identity.
But it was her mother's silence that haunted her most.
Her mother, Hong Rahee, had stood there silently.
No anger.
No tears.
Just silence.
But Boojin, as her daughter, understood what that silence meant. Her mother came from a prestigious political family in Korea—she was the daughter of Judge Hong Jingi. Pride ran in her blood, deeper even than power. And this… this was a betrayal that scraped against the core of her identity.
Still, she had accepted it. Not out of grace, but necessity.
"If this ever leaks," Rahee had warned in that icy, quiet voice, "it won't just be scandal. It'll be a corporate crisis. The press will feast. Our stocks will crash. And predators like CJ's chairman... he's been waiting for an excuse. He'll tear us apart."
That's why when things get complicated especially at the crucial moment for Samesong, the family decided to let Jieun's parents to be sent abroad. Not for exile. But for protection.
For them. For the company. For the family legacy.
But the girl remained in Korea. It wasn't about sympathy—it was about control. She was the key to keeping her parents silent. With her in the family's grasp, her parents would stay in line and out of the spotlight during this crucial moment of the company's restructuring.
Yet at the same time, Lee Jieun—being the very heart of the family's darkest secret—had to remain invisible. From the media. From the world. From the family itself.
The longer she stayed near them, the greater the risk. The press would sniff it out eventually. And once that happened—it would be uncontrollable.
Then came the only solution.
Jihoon.
And that's why the meeting with Jihoon took place today.
Seeing Jihoon still dazing out, Boojin cleared her thoughts and continued.
"You're the only one whose identity isn't public," she said. "Not yet. The press doesn't know you. If something goes wrong… if this gets out… it's better you take the hit than the entire family."
The logic was cold. Brutal. But effective. She didn't bother to hide the fact that she was using Jihoon—because she knew he'd figure it out eventually. So why not be honest from the start?
If Jihoon were exposed, it would cause a ripple. But a manageable one. A sacrifice they could tolerate.
But if the entire Lee family was dragged into the spotlight—Samseong itself could collapse.
Shareholders would panic. Markets would tumble. And rivals would pounce.
"Let her stay with you," Boojin said, her voice firm. "Let people think whatever they want, as long as they don't think of us. Protect her. Guide her. Keep her away from the shadows of our family name."
In the silence that followed, Jihoon finally snapped back to reality.
It took him a while to process everything.
As he thought deeply about the way his aunt spoke, he realized—this wasn't a request.
It was an order. One he had no choice but to obey, no matter how much he hated it.
And in that moment, Jihoon understood: no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape his fate as just another chess piece on their board.
He gave a small, bitter smile and nodded, then said, "I will, imo. Don't worry. It's not like I haven't been in a scandal before."
Boojin watched him closely and gave a firm nod in return.
But deep down, she knew—Jihoon might have accepted the family's request, but he wasn't happy about it.
Still, she prioritized the family business above all else.
That was how she was raised.
That was the way the family had taught her to be.
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe for bestowing the power stone!]