The air in the scorched hall was thick with tension and the smell of ash. Mr. Lee, clutching his injured arm, glared at his son with a mixture of fury and desperation.
"Enough of this foolishness, Daon!" he barked, his voice strained. "Look at this mess! Look at what his influence has caused! He doesn't deserve you! He never did! Now, let's go home and fix this."
But Daon didn't move. He stood his ground, his body a solid wall between his father and Eunjae. The years of obedience, of silent compliance, shattered into a million pieces.
"No," Daon said, his voice low but firm, ringing with a newfound strength. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
Mr. Lee's eyes widened in shock. "What did you say to me?"
