Chapter 114: The Weight of Unseen Truths

Finally, it all clicked—why Doyoon left so suddenly, why he returned without warning, why he couldn’t utter a word about it. Piece by piece, it sank in. A bizarre sensation.

Déjà vu hit. I’d once realized I thought I “knew” every character—but really, I “didn’t know them at all.” This felt infinitely deeper.

“I…”

Truth was, I’d never once tried to hear Doyoon’s true feelings. Assumed every action followed the original plot, so when he clashed with Han Won-ju, I figured he’d handle it illegally.

Knew he followed me, but believed he’d eventually harm me—so I faked the Julia engagement unnecessarily. Knew he was sweet to me, but assumed he’d marry Bae Ji-an, so I ignored his kindness and overflowing affection.

Knew his character wouldn’t do it, yet expected him to expose and exploit my secret…

Dazed, I mumbled blankly:

“I…”

…I never treated you like a person.

Treated you like a book character.

“…Do you hate me now?”

Doyoon looked at me, sad—impulsively bared his soul, terrified of rejection. Slowly, I reached out, pulled his head to my chest.

“Sorry.”

For only seeing you properly now.

Doyoon wasn’t the book’s male lead—he was a living person.

I’d just realized this simple, obvious truth. Felt like a filter lifted from my eyes.

Doyoon froze in my embrace. Though I couldn’t see his face, his breath trembled.

“You… don’t hate me?”

He clutched my shoulder, urgent. I met his gaze, shook my head.

“Why would I hate you?”

His expression shifted oddly. Before tears could spill, he hugged me fiercely.

“Thought you wouldn’t understand…”

His heart hammered against mine—wild. I held him, said:

“Truth is… I don’t fully get it yet.”

He stilled, fear palpable. I soothed his back.

A corner of my brain still screamed: “How did this romance genre twist like this?” But I knew the boy crying, tense, reacting to my every breath—he was real.

Choi Doyoon loves me.

Unbelievable, disorienting—but I wasn’t cowardly or stupid enough to deny the truth staring me down. My voice quavered:

“I’ve been living in a huge… massive fixed mindset.”

Doyoon’s sudden disappearance and avoidance—I’d thought the original story forced an awkward plot. But I was the most trapped by it.

I’d slapped OSTs on his every move, imagined ads, close-ups—I was the one deceiving him. Shame and regret heated my face.

“I thought life followed a set fate. Anything deviating wouldn’t happen.”

Even saying it, the contradiction hit. I’d altered a side character’s life, yet assumed the leads’ couldn’t—selfish projection. I’d even handpicked Bae Ji-an for the company.

Doyoon misunderstood, face guilty.

“I know. You saw me as a real dongsaeng…”

I hesitated.

“Not exactly. Truth is… I’ve known for ages I’m not Father’s son.”

“Ah…”

He looked oddly accepting. He knew that too?

My stomach growled loudly.

“Ah.”

We both looked sheepish. I chuckled softly.

“Let’s eat first.”

Meal ended quickly. My stomach struggled after days of sleep, but mostly Doyoon’s awkward hovering distracted me. Impossible to ignore the boy flinching at my every breath. Finally, I pushed the bowl aside half-eaten. Took a deep breath, asked hesitantly:

“Can I… ask when you first felt that way?”

He flushed.

“Thinking back… from the start. Just took me time to realize.”

“When?”

“When you started the matchmaking rounds.”

“Ah…”

I recalled his deep gloom then. So that’s why.

“Figured even if you broke with Julia, the family would line up another girl. And we’re brothers—unavoidable. Then, by chance in the States, I learned we aren’t related.”

Hearing about Hong Ye-ji and Noh Jae-sik’s murder shocked me. I could’ve died. Even kidnapped, I’d thought, Original route—fine. Past me felt insane. Ignorance bred that courage.

“So I thought coming back would fix everything. But you seemed… indifferent. Tried seducing you, but…”

I couldn’t help huffing a laugh at his serious face. Doyoon’s face turned beet red. He fidgeted, then asked:

“Have you… ever felt a spark for me? Even once?”

I couldn’t laugh anymore.

Too many times. So many I can’t count… Briefly, I realized I’d felt something different toward grown Doyoon. Started paying attention during his feverish days—when, half-asleep, I’d… wait.

Was all that drunken rambling about me?

“…You… ever dream of me often?”

“Of course.”

“What… kind?”

He started to answer, stopped. His face flushed to his neck. No need to hear—the answer was written there. My face burned too. We stared at our nails silently. Silence had never felt so mortifying.

I traced thumb wrinkles absently, wondering:

So… what are we now?

Couldn’t keep playing brothers. So… what?

Doyoon asked seriously:

“Can I… stay by your side?”

I fell silent, thought, then said carefully:

“Can I… think on it a bit more?”

His eyes shook wildly. I rushed:

“Not that I hate you…”

“I know.”

He nodded, resolute. I managed a faint smile. But dread gnawed:

Even if I accept—can Doyoon be happy with me?

Rejected by family, society…? We’d grown as brothers—suddenly lovers? Blood or not, no one would understand. Hiding? That wouldn’t make him happy.

I thought of Julia, who fled to the States abandoning everything. Was this how she felt?

No matter how I pushed the original aside, comparisons lingered. Could Choi Doyoon—without Haewon chairmanship, no kids—be happy? My nails whitened from clenching.

Doyoon cut my thoughts:

“…I’m good at waiting. Don’t rush.”

“…Mhm.”

“Even years. Till then, act normal.”

“…”

I couldn’t even say sorry—that’d make it real. Just nodded.

A week passed in the hospital. Doyoon wanted leave—I stopped him. Didn’t want my mess disrupting his life.

Not majorly hurt—just eating and lounging—didn’t need to steal his time. After my desperate pleading, he went to work, looking miserable.

Now Seunghee was here. She worked on tablet and laptop simultaneously, approving every ten minutes. She’d burst into tears the moment I woke—scared me half to death.

Recalling her first reaction versus now—worlds apart. I asked the hyper-focused Seunghee:

“When do I get discharged?”

“Rest a few more days. Going out just means hassle.”

She didn’t even look up. I sighed.

“Ah, the reporters?”

“Leeches.”

The wall TV—background noise—aired my story nonstop. Channels droned endlessly about Noh Jae-sik’s depravity, his accomplice’s scumminess. Seunghee paused, glaring at Noh on screen, muttering:

“Crazy bastard, full of shit.”

I reacted instantly.

“What’d he say?”

She startled.

“Nothing.”

…Doubtful.

From the look, she’d heard Noh claiming to be my real father.

Not in the news, but definitely reached family. Mother and Doyoon said they’d handle it—no huge worry like before. Still… caution.

Then—breaking news.

[Suspect in Choi Seunghyun kidnapping escapes during transfer to Uijeongbu Detention Center]