The force knocked Es off her feet, and she landed hard on the pavent. Shouts and screams erupted as people ran toward the scene, their faces pale with horror.
Es’s ears rang, her vision blurred as she struggled to sit up. Her car—her carefully planned escape—was now a fiery inferno, reduced to a smoldering wreck.
She stared at the chaos in disbelief, her mind racing. If not for that voice, that inexplicable pull that had stopped her, she would’ve been inside.
Her hands trembled as she touched her jacket, the faint sensation of soone tugging still lingering. A mix of fear and confusion clouded her thoughts, but one thing was clear—soone, or sothing, had just saved her life.
The car was nothing but a heap of smoldering tal, flas licking the air as shards of glass glimred in the wreckage. Es stood at a distance, her eyes sharp and unreadable. She slowly brushed the dust off her dress, her movents deliberate, almost detached. Fear? No. Not Es. She had expected this. Planned for it.
This wasn’t her first ga of cat and mouse, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Switching cars last minute had been her contingency. Es had made sure the second car was untouchable, stationed in secrecy, far from prying eyes. Yet, here she stood, watching both vehicles go up in flas. The calculation in her mind sharpened like a blade. This wasn’t the work of amateurs, nor was it Valhale. The Valhale family lacked this level of precision and... clairvoyance.
Her jaw tightened as she rewound the events in her head. Who could have predicted her move? And then there was the voice—a calm, commanding whisper, cutting through the chaos seconds before the blast, pulling her back just in ti. And the warmth she felt. It was almost tangible, like an invisible shield wrapping around her. This wasn’t Beom. Beom’s energy was icy and sharp, like frost creeping up a windowpane. No, this was different. This was... comforting.
But Es wasn’t one to linger on mysteries, not when her survival demanded answers.
That day, Es walked into her ho with the calm deanor of soone who had definitely not just survived two bomb explosions. She entered her room, shrugging off her soot-covered jacket, mumbling sothing about needing a nap. As she reached for fresh clothes, she sensed movent. Her instincts kicked in, and she spun around, fists raised, ready for a fight.
Before she could even blink, four figures rushed at her like a stampede.
"Honey!" she exclaid in exasperation, dropping her hands as the Aron brothers practically tackled her in a bear hug.
"Are you okay?" Ray asked, his voice trembling with worry. He began inspecting her from head to toe like she was a precious artifact. "You’re not hurt, right? Tell you’re not hurt! I swear, if anyone—"
"I’m fine!" Es tried to assure him, but her words were drowned out by Kay.
"How many tis have we told you to stay safe?!" Kay started his usual nagging routine, wagging his finger like a strict schoolteacher. "But no, you just have to play the hero. Different day, different plans, and now look!"
Jay’s irritation was almost tangible as he gestured wildly at Es, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You? You can’t even wear a good dress properly! Look at this—just look! Do you have any idea how much you’ve ruined it?"
He pointed dramatically to the torn fabric, his face a portrait of devastation, as if the universe had conspired against him personally. The other brothers stopped what they were doing, exchanging silent glances. Their expressions were a mix of disbelief, amusent, and that unmistakable look siblings give when they know one of their own is being utterly ridiculous.
Was he seriously upset about a dress?
Jay, noticing their reactions, turned to face them, his indignation mounting. "What? Don’t look at like that!" he snapped, his voice rising an octave. "So what if she’s fine? Nothing’s going to happen to her! But this—this dress—do you know how much it cost?" He held up a finger dramatically, his golden opportunity to drive ho his point. "Four. Million. Do you even understand what that ans? Four. Million!"
Es, who had been standing there with a blank stare, slowly raised an eyebrow. Her lips twitched, caught between a laugh and disbelief. Was this man—the sa one who had once spent four million on a fluffy panda-print nightgown—really throwing a tantrum about a dress? Her mind reeled with the absurdity of it, but she bit back her response. No, don’t say it, she told herself. After all, wasn’t there a saying? The one who falls in love first, loses first.
And She? She had lost long ago.
So, with a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips, Es said nothing, letting him wallow in his ridiculous outrage.
Ryan, ever the calst of the brothers—or at least he thought so—stepped forward with a calculated air. His sharp gaze swept over Es, scanning her from head to toe. His eyes narrowed in mock concentration, and his voice took on the clipped tone of a doctor making a dire prognosis. "Hmm. CT scan, X-ray, blood tests... maybe an MRI too. And a few more examinations just to be thorough."
Es blinked, her exasperation mounting. "Seriously? I just have a few scratches!" she retorted, her voice rising in disbelief. "You’re acting like I’ve been hit by a truck or sothing! And what’s with all this talk about examinations? I just went through a full checkup yesterday, for heaven’s sake!"
The mory of that ordeal was still fresh in her mind, and the irritation bubbled back up to the surface. Yesterday’s so-called checkup had been a direct result of these lunatics, who hadn’t given her a mont’s peace.
And what had triggered it?
She had choked. On water.
Yes, water. She had simply coughed and sputtered after taking an ill-tid sip. But these grown n—these brothers in their twenties—had lost their collective minds. Within minutes, they had concocted a full-blown dical ergency, dragging her to the doctor for a full-body checkup.
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