DISGRACE ✴ kim rian

51 ─── ᵍʳⁱᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵖᵉʳ

ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ

The moment Mi-hee stepped through the door, the atmosphere was suffocating. Her father, Yun Juhyeon, sat in the living room, his face twisted in fury as the video of her laughing and playing at the cashier with Kang Ha and In-han played on the large TV screen. The sound of her carefree laughter echoed mockingly in the tense silence.

“How dare you?” Juhyeon’s voice was low but dangerous, the kind that sent shivers down Mi-hee’s spine when she was younger. “Dating a commoner? Associating yourself with trash like that? Have you no shame?”

Mi-hee stood her ground, her fists clenched at her sides. “It’s not a crime to have friends, Father. And it’s certainly not a crime to care about people who aren’t like you.”

Juhyeon shot up from his chair, his face reddening. “You are a Yun! Do you understand what that name means? You’ve disgraced this family!”

Mi-hee laughed bitterly, her control slipping. “Disgraced the family? What about you, Father? You’ve spent your entire life stepping on others to keep your image spotless. Do you even know what it means to be human anymore?”

“Watch your mouth!” Juhyeon bellowed, his voice shaking the walls.

But Mi-hee was past the point of fear. The years of pent-up frustration, pain, and helplessness came rushing to the surface. “No, you watch your mouth! You’ve controlled every part of my life, dictated every choice I’ve made, and for what? To keep up your precious façade? Do you even care about me, about Mom, about Minjun? Or are we just pawns in your ridiculous power games?”

Before Juhyeon could respond, the front door swung open, and in walked Mi-hee’s older brother, Minjun, followed closely by their mother and two men in police uniforms. The tension in the room turned electric.

“Minjun? What’s going on?” Juhyeon demanded, his tone sharp and defensive.

Minjun’s expression was calm, almost cold. “What’s going on is that your time is up, Father.” He handed a stack of documents to one of the officers. “This is everything they need—embezzlement, fraud, tax evasion. It’s all here.”

Juhyeon’s face turned ashen. “This is ridiculous. You’re my son!”

“And you’re a criminal,” Minjun shot back, his voice steady but laced with years of resentment. “I’ve been building this case for years, waiting for the right moment. When Mi-hee called me, crying and desperate, I knew it was time.”

The officers stepped forward, their handcuffs gleaming under the overhead light. Juhyeon backed away, his voice desperate now. “This is a mistake! I can fix this—just give me time! Honey, tell them!”

His wife, standing by the door, looked at him with weary eyes. “You’ve always been good at fixing things, Juhyeon. But not this time.”

He turned to Mi-hee, his voice breaking. “Mi-hee, please! You’re my daughter!”

Mi-hee’s breath hitched as tears streamed down her face. Her voice cracked as she spoke, raw and filled with years of suppressed emotion. “I wish you were a better man. A better father. A better husband. I hate who I’ve become because of you.” Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

The officers moved in, securing the handcuffs around Juhyeon’s wrists. He struggled, calling out for his wife, his son, his daughter, but no one answered.

As the door closed behind him, the silence left in his wake was deafening.

Minjun knelt beside Mi-hee, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Their mother joined them, her hand gently stroking Mi-hee’s hair.

“It’s over now,” Minjun whispered. “You don’t have to carry this anymore.”

Mi-hee clung to them, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. For the first time in years, she felt a glimmer of hope—a fragile, tentative thing, but it was there. And for the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could rebuild.

ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ