𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢 || YOON JEONGHAN FFS || SEVENTEEN

𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒚

Few hours ago,

Rain lashed against the tall windows of Song Mansion as Han Chaerin stepped into the study room, her heart pounding in anticipation. 

The study was a world unto itself—elegant yet foreboding, lined with mahogany shelves filled with leather-bound books and decorated with paintings of ancestors who seemed to silently judge anyone entering.

Chaerin was no stranger to the atmosphere that surrounded her grandfather, Song Minseok.

 He had always been a formidable presence in her life, a man of strict principles and unyielding expectations. As the head of the Soong family, his cold demeanor ruled like a shadow over the mansion, and though some might find warmth in the familial ties, Chaerin had always felt the chill of discontent.

The tension hung thick in the air, lingering from the family dinner earlier that evening.

"Chaerin." His voice cut through the silence, curt and unforgiving. "You were late."

"Traffic was heavy, Grandfather," she replied, her own voice steady, she knew she had to remain composed; allowing any emotion to seep through the hard shell she had built would be a weakness he would exploit.

He waved a dismissive hand, his eyes narrowing as he caught her gaze. "Excuses. They mean nothing in this world. Sit down."

"Your behavior at dinner was inappropriate," Minseok noted coldly, his tone edged with disdain. "You know that family gatherings are not meant for personal displays of arrogance."

"They were just—" she began, but he cut her off, the flare of his temper igniting as he slammed his palm against the desk, making her flinch.

"Do not interrupt me, Chaerin!" 

The sudden burst startled her, and she felt a familiar sting of frustration bubble to the surface. 

"Everyone already thinks you're ignorant, that you think yourself above them. And then you venture to shatter their illusions with your attitude."

"I was merely defending my position," she countered, carefully choosing her words. "I do not believe I owe anyone an apology for my accomplishments—"

A sharp crack resonated through the study as Minseok's hand slapped across her cheek, the sting of it reaching deep into her soul.

The physical pain was momentary, far overshadowed by the wound of betrayal that coursed through her. She blinked in surprise, shocked into silence, the fiery spark of anger igniting within her.

"Do not mistake your position for power," he sneered contemptuously. "One moment's flippancy can cost you everything. You have been given an opportunity, but you have to respect it." His words dripped with contempt as he continued, "You disgrace the name of Song."

Chaerin's heart raced, the anger flooding her with warmth. "I understand what is at stake, Grandfather," she replied evenly, her resolve hardening. "My actions stem from a place of responsibility to the family and the company. Perhaps it is time you recognize the efforts I invest, ignoring the dismissible, old-world views you cling to."

Minseok raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a disdainful smirk. "You think your little ventures and victories mean something? All it means is that you think you've risen above your station. Remember that. This is an elite environment, Chaerin. You would do well to navigate it with finesse rather than rebellion."

A tense silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the ticking of the ornate clock on the wall. Chaerin took a breath, her fingers tightening around the table. "I am not seeking your approval. I'm simply trying to do what's expected of me as the future leader of the Song."

His expression darkened, and he stepped closer, forcing her to meet his steely gaze. "Lineage without loyalty is meaningless. And you, with all your aspirations, are still a stranger to this family."

Chaerin's throat tightened, the sting of unacknowledged pain rising. "Perhaps I've been a stranger because I've been treated as one." She stood, matching his intensity.

"You misunderstand the value of family. Respect, duty, legacy—they come with sacrifice."

"And what have you sacrificed for me?" She stepped forward, anger fueling her words. "You cast me aside the moment my father left. You've spent years holding me responsible for his choices."

"I sacrificed everything to uphold this family's name," he retorted, barely containing the bitterness. "And your family—they betrayed us all. You carry their blood; it taints you."

Years of memories ran through her head as she recalled the years of pain and betrayal she faces and how her mother hated her for all of this.

She stepped out of the Mansion dejected by everyone. She was more rigid and cold than when she came here. This mansion was her cage and her reason of destruction.

10.24pm, Seoul, South Korea

The sounds of the city below were muted, the usual clamor dampened by the torrential downpour. 

It was in this quiet sanctuary that Chaerin poured her soul into the piano, her fingers dancing violently across the keys as she tackled one of the most challenging pieces of classical music—a sonata known for its tumultuous emotional depth. Each note embodied her internal struggle, the notes sharp with anguish, the melody tinged with sorrow. With every slam of her hands against the ivory keys, her frustration bled into the music. The pain of her past flared to life in her heart, memories swirling like a storm around her, each one more haunting than the last. She recalled, the relentless decision that had left her feeling hollow and isolated. Friends had become strangers; warmth had withered like a forgotten flower.

The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the piercing loneliness that wrapped around her like a shroud. The notes rang out, an echo of her suffering, cascading through the air in a tempest of sound that could not feel hollow. She played to scream into the silence that had encased her life. As the final chords reverberated through the spacious room, Chaerin let her fingers linger over the keys, their warmth contrasting sharply with the chill that pervaded her heart. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as the last note lingered in the air—a bittersweet aftertaste of a mixture of despair and relief.

With a heavy sigh, Chaerin rose from the piano, her skin tingling as if waking from a long slumber. As she stepped away from the instrument, she glanced out the window to see the rain softening.

*buzz*

*Message from Rain*

Doctor trap. laSerine hotel. SVT