**Somewhere In Paris**

The television played in the background, its bright colors flickering across the dim apartment. A half-empty can of soda sat on the coffee table beside a pile of game controllers and unopened mail. A breathtakingly handsome boy lounged lazily on the sofa, one leg hanging over the armrest while he mindlessly flipped through channels, clearly bored. The boy was wearing a black hoodie his shoulder length hairs, half tied in a loose bun and the rest flowing beautifully. His little face delicate yet handsome, his pair of almond eyes.. So pretty that they could take someone's breath away. His cute button nose and pretty pink lips, with a mole on the corner of his lips... Taehyung, Kim Taehyung.. 19 years old, a sharp tongued brat.

He was watching TV. Just then.. Buzz... Buzz... His phone vibrated across the table. He glanced at the screen and rolled his eyes. "Mr. Kim"

He muttered finally before answering.

A deep sigh came from the other end.

His father asked coldly.

The boy sat up slightly, a frown forming on his face.

A short, humorless laugh escaped his lips.

His father's voice became firmer and much colder.

Silence filled the line.

He chuckled bitterly before answering.

Without waiting for another word, he ended the call and tossed the phone onto the couch.

The apartment fell silent again, except for the television still playing in the background.

He leaned back with his arms crossed, pretending not to care.

The truth was simple, he doesn't wanna go back to the hell again.

But for the first time in years...

The thought of going back to the country he had left behind refused to leave his mind.

**Somewhere In South Korea**

The father already knows his rebellious son won't listen, so he quietly freezes his bank cards, his phone service was suspended, his passport was taken by his family's legal team ( or they arrange his travel so he has no practical way to stay where he is ). But the wrose among them is...

[His music studio membership is cancelled]... His father knows he Loves Music so he used his power to cancel his membership.

**Somewhere In Paris**

Taehyung was sitting on sofa inside his cozy and elegant home, listening music. The melody stopped halfway through the verse. He frowned and tapped the microphone.

A few seconds ago, everything had been fine. Now the recording software had suddenly logged him out. He tried again. Access Denied.

Pulling out his phone, he opened his banking app. The loading circle spun. Then a notification appeared. *Account Temporarily Restricted.* His stomach dropped. No. No way. He checked another card. Then another. All frozen. For the first time since yesterday's phone call, panic crept into his chest. His father. That old man had actually done it. His jaw tightened slowly, frustration build up inside him.

Before he could think or curse further, his phone rang. Unknown Number. He answered immediately.

His expression darkened. He hated that title. He hated his surname.

Of course. The family lawyers.

Silence. Pure Silence.

His grip tightened around the phone. His anger rising with each passing second.

The world seemed to stop.

His heart sank. Everything. His father had taken everything. The lawyer continued in the same emotionless tone.

Then the call ended.

Just like that. His peaceful life ended.....

It was. As if his opinion never mattered. As if he never mattered. Angrily, he threw his phone across the room. It hit the wall and crashed onto the floor. The apartment fell silent. A painful silence. The same silence he had lived with for years. No mother checking on him. No father asking if he had eaten. No siblings calling to see how he was doing. Nothing. Only his grandmother had ever cared. And she was gone. His eyes wandered to the guitar resting against the corner of the room. The one thing that had stayed with him. The one thing nobody could take away. Slowly, he walked over and sat beside it. His fingers brushed across the strings. A soft note echoed through the apartment. Then another. And another. For the next two hours, he played. Not for money. Not for fame. Just because he didn't know what else to do. It felt like saying goodbye.

At exactly six o'clock, headlights appeared outside the apartment building. A black luxury car. He looked down from the window. The family crest gleamed on the side. His jaw clenched hard.

A knock echoed through the apartment. Three slow knocks. Patient. Certain. As if they already knew he had lost. When he opened the door, three men stood outside. The one in front bowed slightly.

Tae glanced at them before coldly saying..

The man remained expressionless before calmly saying.

He looked back into the apartment one last time. At the guitar. At the microphone. At the life he had built for himself. Then he picked up his bag. Not because he wanted to. Because he had no choice. As the elevator doors closed, a single thought crossed his mind.

The private jet landed just after sunset. As the cabin door opened, a cool breeze brushed against his face. He stared at the city below. Nothing had changed. The same skyline. The same roads. The same country he had promised himself he would never return to. A black convoy waited outside the airport. Without a word, the security team escorted him into the back seat. The ride was silent. He rested his head against the window, watching the familiar streets pass by one after another. Memories he had buried years ago slowly resurfaced. The park where his grandmother used to buy him ice cream. The music shop where she secretly bought him his first guitar. The café where she would sit for hours, smiling as he sang to her. He closed his eyes.

The ache in his chest grew heavier. Almost an hour later, the convoy slowed. Huge iron gates opened automatically. Beyond them stood the Kim Estate. The mansion looked exactly as he remembered. Grand. Elegant. Cold. The car stopped in front of the entrance.

Two rows of servants bowed respectfully.

Home. What an unfamiliar word.He thought.. Without responding, he stepped out. Every footstep echoed across the marble floor. Nothing here felt like home. It felt like a museum. Beautiful. Silent. Lifeless. A maid approached carefully.

Of course. No one asked if he was tired. No one asked if he had eaten. Not even a simple... How have you been? He let out a quiet laugh. Some things never changed.

The study door stood slightly open. He pushed it wider. Behind a massive wooden desk sat his father. Still reading documents. Still too busy to look at his own son. Several seconds passed. Finally, the older man spoke.

Tae's lips curled into a bitter smile.

His father calmly signed another document before placing the pen down.

A brief silence filled the room. Then his father finally lifted his eyes. For the first time in years... Father and son looked at each other. Neither smiled. Neither looked happy.

Finally his father decided to break the silence by saying...

Ignoring the remark, he father silde a folder across the desk.

Tae frowned..

His expression hardened.

Tae clenched the folder until the papers crumpled in his hand.

The words struck harder than he expected.

His voice rose...

His father stood. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Just then. Tae slammed the folder onto desk with a loud thud. Before coldly saying...

Before he could finish...

SLAP!

A slap sound echoed through the study room.

Taehyung's head turned sideways with the force of the blow. A sharp sting spread across his cheek. He didn't touch it. He didn't cry. He didn't even look surprised. It was as though he had endured these from the start of his life. Slowly, he turned his face back toward his father.

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips...

He started, his voice quite and emotionless...

His father remained expressionless...

Tae let out a dry laugh before coldly saying..

His father's eyes narrowed slightly.

Silence settled between them. Neither of them looked away. His father finally spoke.

The answer was immediate.. Too immediate.

His father asked a servant to bring the Guitar that was given by Tae's Grandma to him on his birthday...

Tae's eyes followed every movement.

For the first time since entering the study... Fear crossed his face.

His father paused.

His fingers trembled. That guitar wasn't just wood and strings. It was his grandmother's final gift. The only place where he still felt loved. His father definitely knows it, as he never liked him.palying music.

He closed his eyes as memories flooded back. His grandmother placing the guitar in his hands. Her gentle smile. Her words. "Whenever you're lonely... let the music keep you company."

His fingers curled into fists. Every part of him wanted to refuse. But he couldn't lose the last gift she had ever given him.

Finally what felt like an eternity, he quitely and emotionlessly spoke in a cold voice.

His father finally smiled ins satisfaction.

The servant immediately nodded. He bowed and quitely left the roo..

As he walked out of the study, he whispered so softly that only he could hear—

He was sure, his father knows it. Even if he beat him to death, he will still refuse. That's why he did this.. Leaving no choice for him. Taking his freedom.. Taking his guitar.. Taking his evrything...