Three days later, Sanghyun brought Areum to the Han estate.
She observed with a quiet interest as the black sedan pulled through the wrought-iron gates.
Magnificent fountains flanked the driveway, their waters cascading in elegant arcs over polished black stone. Rows of ginkgo trees stood like golden sentinels, their fan-shaped leaves shimmering in the afternoon sun, rustling with the subtle majesty of old money.
Today, she was dressed in a fitted black turtleneck tucked neatly into a long, pleated mocha-brown skirt that swayed just above her ankles. The look was understated but refined—elegant in a way that didn't seek attention, yet couldn't be overlooked. Her dark leather boots lent a grounded, practical edge, and in her hands, she carried a structured black clutch—simple yet deliberate.
She had expected the estate to be grand, of course—but the sheer scale of it still caught her off guard.
As the car rolled to a stop, she stepped out slowly, her shoes clicking against the pristine stone.
The Han mansion loomed before her like a fortress—sleek, modern, and coldly immaculate. Its façade of white stone and black glass gleamed in the sunlight, sharp against the green slope of the private hillside. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the sky in obsidian streaks, offering no hint of what lay hidden inside.
The staff lining the walkway bowed in unison as Sanghyun passed, their gazes briefly shifting to Areum, who walked beside him with an unhurried grace. Through their mana fields, she sensed that most of them were surprised and curious, with a few harboring faint disdain. Outwardly, their expressions remained professionally neutral.
It seemed that being an illegitimate child still carried its unspoken stigma. Areum shrugged inwardly, unfazed. She had no interest in managing their impressions.
To her mild surprise, Sanghyun didn't enter the main house.
Without a word, he gestured and veered off, leading her around the side of the mansion, away from the front entrance reserved for guests and dignitaries. A narrow stone walkway stretched past the eastern wing, gently curving as it descended into a deeper, more private part of the estate.
Here, the energy began to shift.
The rigid modernity of the main house gradually gave way to something more grounded and organic.
Wisteria vines draped across wooden trellises, and moss crept between flagstones as the air grew denser with humidity and the scent of greenery. It felt as if they had stepped out of the modernized world and into a hidden grove untouched by time.
At the end of the path stood a separate residence—Geongseok's private quarters.
It was built into the hillside like a hidden sanctuary, its exterior partially concealed by bamboo groves, rock gardens, and clusters of rare flora. The architecture—unlike the clean, modern lines of the main mansion—was softened by wood, stone, and glass walls that blurred the boundary between indoors and garden.
Areum glanced around, taking in the scent of earth and flowers. The atmosphere was calm, almost meditative.
She couldn't help but feel surprised. She had always imagined Han Geongseok, with his relentless pursuit of power, would be living in a grandiose and imposing place. But this nature-infused residence was the opposite: quiet, slow, and steady.
It didn't scream authority—it radiated control through stillness.
Which side of him is real? She wondered.
Along one side of the house, a long greenhouse stretched, its curved dome glinting faintly through the overhanging branches. Sanghyun led her toward it without a word.
Oddly enough, Geongseok had asked to meet her here—in the greenhouse.
"You can still change your mind," Sanghyun said. His voice was neutral, but she could sense the worry pulsing through his mana field. Geongseok had asked to see her alone, much to his dismay.
Areum nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be fine."
Without waiting, she turned and opened the tall door of the greenhouse, stepping inside.
Humidity clung to her skin, wrapping around her like a living thing. Inside, the space was overflowing with life. Dense greenery surrounded her—ferns cascading from hanging baskets, thick-leaved vines curling along trellises, and rare flowering plants nestled in sculpted stone beds.
But something else caught her attention.
She hadn't expected to see them here—the crystal mana grid.
Towering crystal clusters and geodes rose from the soil between the plants, arranged in deliberate patterns—amethyst formations as tall as she was, clear quartz columns jutting between planters, and deep smoky quartz half-buried in moss and soil. They shimmered in the filtered sunlight that streamed down through the curved glass ceiling.
These weren't ordinary pieces. The sheer size and quality of the clusters meant they would easily be worth hundreds of millions of won—perhaps even more. But for the Han Group, a mining and real estate conglomerate with global reach, these were likely acquired straight from their own private operations.
Areum stepped closer, eyes narrowing. The arrangement of the crystals wasn't random. They formed a geometric pattern designed to draw in and concentrate mana—a self-sustaining grid, similar to the kind she maintained in her condo, though this one operated on a much larger scale.
Someone—Geongseok, or perhaps an "expert" he trusted—had attempted to turn the greenhouse into a reservoir of mana.
But the lines were… off.
The alignment was imperfect, causing distortions to ripple through the flow of mana—not enough to collapse the formation, but enough to leave the field unstable and far weaker than it could have been.
She exhaled slowly, fingers twitching with restraint. What a waste of excellent crystals, she thought.
Some of the plant species here weren't meant to be bombarded with concentrated mana—many thrived on a gentle flow rather than a constant gush. Most high-grade medicinal plants were like that, requiring precise mana absorption rates and uniquely calibrated crystal grids tailored to their needs.
Areum glanced at the area surrounding several of the formations. The ground nearby was barren, with the remnants of dead plants curled like paper at the base of the crystals. The ones that had survived were those that had instinctively grown farther away, beyond the reach of the grid's overwhelming intensity.
Her frown deepened even more when her gaze landed on a large amethyst geode. Its aura flickered unsteadily, fraying at the edges.
It was crying for help.
Areum could see it—from the geode, mana tendrils unraveling like wisps of smoke, reaching out in flailing desperation, like a child's hand extended for comfort. The crystal's frequency wavered with pain, resonating through her senses like a muted cry.
She reached out instinctively, but just before she could touch it, a murmur of voices drifted in from deeper within the greenhouse.
Her attention snapped forward.
In the center of the space, Geongseok stood with his back to her, meticulously tending to a miniature bonsai tree. He wore a high-collared indigo jacket, tailored by hand and impeccably pressed. His silver hair gleamed like it had been brushed with frost, immaculate and untouched by the thick, humid air.
Areum recognized him instantly—she had seen his face on the news more times than she could count.
But he wasn't alone.
Standing beside him was a teenage boy—fifteen, maybe sixteen—with broad shoulders still settling into their adult frame.
He bore an unmistakable resemblance to Sanghyun: the same sharp cheekbones, clean jawline, and striking monolid eyes. But where Sanghyun's features were cold and impenetrable, Minjae's held a quiet softness that tempered their intensity. His hair was neatly styled—short at the sides, neatly tapered to reveal the elegant slope of his neck, while the longer strands at the top were brushed back in a soft, deliberate wave. He wore a tailored school blazer—navy with silver piping—fitted to perfection.
There was warmth in his expression, a calm steadiness that felt approachable rather than distant.
Areum didn't recognize him at first.
But then she heard Geongseok say his name—"Minjae."
Han Minjae.
The heir apparent. Her half-brother. And the twin brother of the story's protagonist.
Minjae bowed politely to Geongseok, his posture a perfect blend of formality and ease—just enough reverence to show respect, but not a trace more. Then he turned to leave—and froze when he saw her.
Their eyes met.