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A story about a girl that finally finds the will to live after years of being tormented by her ruthless past, just to have it reach to her once more, coming back with the same intensity of cruelty and terror and once again erasing her just bui...
° ° ° . . . My heart is already chasing you, burning with a small fire. . .
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CHAPTER 35 —————
"Na Jaemin! How long are you willing to keep this peasantly way of life up?!" The dark brown haired woman, in her late thirties yelled. She looked quite young despite having an eighteen years old son standing in front of her and contravening anything she would tell him. Her eyes screaming with anger and frustration, staring at the unbothered mocha haired guy, while his, neutral and even cold eyes were kept locked with her stormy ones. Being used to the everyday yelling from his mother and father, he already had mastered that expressionless look on his face, locking away any trace of feeling left in him.
"Why are you being useless Na Jaemin?!" A low yet high pitched yell could be heard from the corner of the huge living room. Black haired man around his early forties had an angry yet unbothered look covering his already wrinkled face. Arms resting on top of his hips and eyes throwing daggers at his own son. "Why don't you care about my position?! I am this country's president, kid!"
Kid. Jaemin mentally rolled his eyes. Yes, he was always a random kid to him, never called by his name or even less called his son or a child that belonged to the famous family. He felt sickened only by standing in the same room with the two people, yet he didn't have much of a choice but to listen to the endless lecturing one more time, hoping for it to be the last.
"Start caring about your father's reputation! You do realise your uselessness is the reason you're held a secret from the whole country!?" The elder continued, his blue eyes narrowed behind his rectangular glasses, glaring at his so-called son. There was no doubt, Jaemin got his beautiful eyes from his father, but even so they looked so breath-taking in everyone else's eyes, he hated having taken anything after the man that had the audacity to call himself his father.
The man's eyebrows stood furrowed in anger causing deep wrinkles to form between them. Shooting incensed burning flames through Jaemin that sat seemingly comfortable in the leather couch, although he was impatiently waiting to finally leave the wide living room covered in gold and expensive souvenirs and paintings that kept him suffocating.
It was always like that, nothing could be heard except the yelling between the walls of their house- or more like his father's house. Jaemin and his mother didn't live there, they all had separate places they called home. The extensive modern mansion they were present in was his father's home- the president's so-called palace, some a little less expensive apartment in the centre of Seoul was his mother's home, while Jaemin lived in Renjun's apartment at lodge which in time he started thinking of it like his own home far more than his parents' places.
