"Are you not going to explain yourself?" Zahn asked, his tone cold and exasperated.
He wasn't asking what happened or what went wrong. But like an interrogation, he wanted her to explain herself.
So, in his heart, he had already decided she was guilty.
Lianna knew she shouldn't expect anything from this man. She had long accepted that he didn't love her. She had always known that, between her and his mother, she would forever be the one in the wrong.
She had believed herself numb to emotional and psychological pain by now, but even so, in this moment, her chest still felt unbearably heavy.
"Explain myself?" Lianna repeated, her voice laced with sarcasm and quiet self-deprecation. "What exactly do you want to hear?"
Zahn Neri frowned, clearly surprised—and irritated—by her tone. "Lianna, my mother is old. You should be more patient and understanding. If she really couldn't help herself and ate some peaches, just watch over Sean and make sure he doesn't eat any. Is that really so difficult?"
Patient and understanding?
Right. For the past four years, since she entered the Neri household, his mother had treated her like her personal servant—constantly at her beck and call and a scapegoat for every little mistake in that house.
Lianna had endured it all for her son, and out of a naive hope that someday, Madam Neri would come to accept her. Yet all she received in return was nothing but disdain and contempt.
Was it hard to look after her own child?
Of course not—if that was all she had to do. But looking after Sean while also running errands for her mother-in-law? That was a different story.
"Lianna?"
His voice yanked her from her thoughts. She met Zahn's cold, impatient gaze.
Before she could speak, he muttered, "I've told you countless times—I'm swamped with work. I barely sleep these days. If something important comes up, talk to my mother or call me directly. Don't keep using the child as an excuse. He's innocent."
Lianna's eyes widened in disbelief.
Was he implying she had used their son—her own child—just to get his attention?
So in his eyes, she was that kind of woman? Someone so pathetic, so twisted, she would go as far as using her child as a tool for manipulation?
"Using Sean as an excuse?" she repeated, each word enunciated with quiet fury. "Zahn Neri… do you really think I'm that heartless? That I'm deliberately letting him get sick just so I have a reason to reach you?"
He looked away, his voice calm but distant. "Maybe this time was an accident. But Lianna… this isn't the first time you've come to me because of Sean."
Lianna gave a bitter laugh—aimed not at him, but at herself. Her foolishness.
Four years of marriage, and the tiny flicker of hope she'd held onto… was finally extinguished in that moment.
So every time she had come to him when Sean was sick, it wasn't out of concern for their child in his eyes—it was a ploy?
But wasn't he a doctor? A renowned one at that? Anyone else could seek him out for the best treatment, but their son couldn't?
He was rarely home. Lianna had only wanted their child to feel his father's presence at least in those vulnerable moments—when he was sick, scared, and needed comfort. She had hoped Sean would grow up knowing, even just a little, that his father cared.
And yet, to Zahn Neri, all of that was nothing but manipulation?
"Doctor Neri," she said, her voice low, tired. "You really disappoint me."
"What do you mean?" Zahn asked sharply, grabbing her arm as frustration rose in his chest.
He didn't even know if he was angrier at her words, at her tone, the fact that she had addressed him so formally or maybe at the way she was slipping away.
Lianna tried to shake off his hand, but his grip only tightened. She met his eyes with a mocking smile.
"Ask yourself. You think I'm lacking as a mother? Then what about you? Are you a good father to him?"
Zahn, usually composed and stern, faltered. A crack in his calm exterior.
But before he could reply, the door to the ER opened, and a doctor stepped out with a polite nod.
"The child is stable now. He's no longer in danger."
Zahn immediately released her arm.
Lianna straightened, returning to her usual impassive demeanor. She didn't cry. She didn't plead. She didn't apologize.
But something deep inside her shifted. Quiet… but ominous.
A storm that had slumbered for years was finally beginning to awaken.
---
At a mountain villa-
After a few days of relentless searching, Secretary Yun finally found someone who met all the strange requirements. Monk, priest, shaman—it didn't matter anymore.
As long as the person was legitimate and could handle whatever was going on, he would've taken a druid as long as they had a certificate.
The man he found was a former high priest, well-trained and licensed in his early days. Over the years, he had traveled far and wide, helping people, guiding souls, and performing exorcisms when needed.
For the last ten years, he had lived quietly in a northern monastery, away from the world.
Once everything was confirmed, Secretary Yun immediately contacted Shin Keir and sent him the man's profile.
Later that day, in a secluded villa high in the mountains, Shin arrived just past 5 p.m. He had dropped off Yeri and her dog, Carpet, and driven straight here.
The sun had begun to dip, casting long shadows across the gravel driveway. The wind was cold. Tall trees swayed gently around the villa, their branches creaking in the wind like old bones stretching after a nap.
Secretary Yun stood outside, waiting with a nervous expression. He straightened his jacket as Shin's car pulled in.
When Shin's sleek car came to a halt, out of habit, he walked to the backseat to open the door—but paused in surprise when he saw Shin Keir step out of the driver's seat himself.
"Boss, this place is quite far. Why didn't you ask someone to drive you?" he asked.
Shin shrugged, clearly in a good mood. "It's fine. I took Yeri home and came here right after."
His tone was light. Calm. Even the usual sharp edge in his eyes seemed softer.
Secretary Yun blinked, quietly amazed. Peace with Miss Zhi really did work wonders. It was like seeing a lion purring.
Still, he said nothing and simply nodded, noting the cause: Miss Zhi. Of course. The source of 70% of his boss's stress... and apparently 100% of his serotonin.
As they began walking toward the villa, Shin glanced at him. "Are you sure about this person?"
Secretary Yun tensed slightly. He still didn't understand why his boss—a man who dealt with enemies like clockwork and occasional menace to society—suddenly needed an exorcist. But he kept his doubts to himself.
"Yes, boss," he replied quickly. "He's a high priest. Properly trained and licensed in his early years. After that, he spent most of his life traveling—helping people, seeking enlightenment, performing rituals, and studying spiritual practices. For the past decade, he's lived in seclusion at a monastery up north."
Shin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
Halfway up the path, Secretary Yun lowered his voice and added, "He refused any payment. Said if we want to give something, we can donate to the church."
Shin nodded silently.
"And..." Secretary Yun hesitated, glancing at his boss. "He didn't promise anything. He said he'd only meet you first, then decide if he's the right person for the job."
Shin didn't look bothered in the slightest. "That's fine."
Secretary Yun followed into the villa, sincerely hoping this mysterious priest was either the real deal… or at least had very good insurance.
The heavy door creaked open as they stepped inside.
The air was colder here. Still. Like the walls were listening.
Somewhere deeper in the house, a soft bell chimed.
And suddenly, it felt like something was watching.
In the dimly lit living room, an old man stood silently in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. His hands were clasped behind his back, a wooden rosary bracelet resting loosely around his wrist. He gazed outside at the fading light between the trees, still as a statue.
Shin noticed him right away—and noticed something else, too.
He didn't look like a priest. Not even close.
The man wore old denim jeans, a plain black top, and… slippers? House slippers?
Not a robe. Not even a cross in sight.
Shin said nothing, only observed him quietly.
The old man, hearing the soft sound of approaching footsteps, slowly turned his head toward them. His eyes were sharp, clear, and oddly calm—like a man who had already seen everything and wasn't impressed.
The steady tick of the wall clock echoed through the room, loud in the silence.
Secretary Yun cleared his throat softly and introduced them. "Boss, this is High Priest Ramino. Though most people just call him Old Ram. And this is my employer, Shin Keir."
Shin gave a small nod. "Then… High Priest Ramino?"
The old man raised a hand, dismissing the title with a small wave. His gaze never left Shin. "Just call me Old Ram. I don't care for formalities."
Without waiting for a reply, Shin moved to the nearest armchair and sat down, his posture calm but alert.
Secretary Yun gave a polite bow. "Boss, I'll wait for you in the next room."
It was clear this matter was personal. And no matter how deeply his curiosity burned, he wouldn't pry. With that, he quietly stepped out, leaving the two alone.
Old Ram walked across the room and took a seat across from Shin. There was a faint jingle with every step—the soft chime of a tiny bell tied to his ankle.
It rang with a strange rhythm, like a lullaby slightly out of tune.
Shin glanced briefly at the bell, mildly curious, but didn't ask.