I Like The Beach Better [BL]

The Truths (Pt. 2)

A/N: This part of the story solely and mainly focuses on the 'secrets' of the plot or in my words 'the truths'. And does not have any romance in it! Do not skip, or you would not understand anything about the plot.

•Promised romance in the upcoming chapters.

•T/W: Homophobic themes.

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Golden spires stretching towards the sky, intricate archways, pillars, and massive, glistening doors that welcomed guests inside. The exterior was made of the finest marble, providing a mirror-like finish that glimmered in the sunlight. The surrounding gardens were adorned with exotic flowers, sculptures, and fountains, all adding to the impressive display. 

The shimmering pools, waterways, and bridges, with intricate carvings and gilded filigree, were an engineering marvel in themselves, a true testament to the ingenuity of its designers. It was impossible to deny the air of sophistication, indulgence, and luxury that emanated from every facet of the building.

With each clanging step of her stiletto heels on the pavement, the uncertainty within her manifested to her wavering hands, searching for the calling bell once more— The creak of the bell broke the silence, and the truth.

"This… this is where I met the old lady last night," Sehun's heart leaping to his throat, incongruously he muttered, "What the hell is going on?"

A woman appeared from the threshold, her eyes a striking shade of grey and with creases that told of her lengthy existence. "Yes?" At the sight befallen, her face contorted into a smirk, epitomising the enigma, "Hyojoo."

"Sooya," Hyojoo strode forward. "You know precisely why I am here, don't you?"

Sooya's laughter reverberated thoroughly, a manic sound that chilled the air. "Hyojoo, your son," she said, wiping away a tear of mirth, "has grown up so much." 

The words were innocuous, but the way in which they were delivered carried a sinister connotation. 

In the pit of Sehun's stomach, as if a warning had just been issued— he dared even to bat an eye. 

"Sooya…"

Sooya's expression was easy, carefree, as if nothing was amiss. "Have you finally decided to acknowledge the truth, Hyojoo?"

Sehun knew then that his fears were not unfounded. Something terrible was coming, and he was ill-prepared to face it. 

Hyojoo squared her shoulders, "I want you to know the truth, too," her gaze head on.

The twisted smile etched onto the woman's face, then, began to loosen; slowly, but surely giving way to an aura of ominous darkness that bespoke of a deeper malevolence. Her voice was low, and menacing, "You really are determined for the truth, aren't you?"

"Yes. I am," Hyojoo's words no less firm than her resolve, "In fact, I fear that time is no longer on our side."

For a moment, no one spoke, felt captive by the moment— but amid, Sehun had balanced that this was not a woman to be trifled with, her power and will coiling in every fibre of her being. Those who dared to test her, to cross her, were doomed to face the consequences of her wrath, for she was a forced to be reckoned with, a master of the artistry of manipulation. 

Both of the women's words hung heavy like a pall, suffocating all who were present. 

Sooya drew in another breath, "Then, I will tell you, what it was like for a mother to hand over the deceased body of her son to somebody else," her voice was measured, careful, nearly like navigating a minefield of emotions— a glimmer of dark humour bordered on the edge of madness, "It was the month of June," and then she pointed a finger forward, "It all happened there. Right across the alley, the apartment which looks so lavish now!"