The sun rose over the D'Arcy estate, casting a warm glow through the ornate windows of Ji-hoon's room. He lay awake, thoughts swirling in his mind like leaves caught in a gust of wind. Last night had shifted something inside him—a desire for authenticity and freedom from the gilded cage that was his life.
But as the day unfolded, that newfound resolve would soon be tested.
At breakfast, the atmosphere was charged with an unspoken tension. Ji-hoon sat at the grand dining table, the lavish spread of food contrasting sharply with the unease simmering beneath the surface. Lucien, his expression as sharp as his tailored suit, entered the room with a commanding presence that demanded attention.
"Good morning, Étienne," he said, his voice smooth yet edged with authority. "We have much to discuss."
Ji-hoon nodded, wary of what was to come. Lucien's gaze pierced through him, and he felt the weight of expectation pressing down.
"Today marks the beginning of your real training," Lucien announced, as he poured himself a cup of black coffee. "From this moment forward, I will personally oversee your development."
"Training?" Ji-hoon echoed, a sense of dread creeping in. "But I already have lessons with the instructors."
"Those are mere formalities," Lucien dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You need something more rigorous—something that will prepare you for the responsibilities that lie ahead. You need to understand the art of ballet beyond the basic techniques. You need to learn the discipline that comes with being a D'Arcy."
Ji-hoon's heart sank. The idea of being trained directly by Lucien filled him with both apprehension and determination. "And what does that entail?"
"It means long hours, rigorous practice, and an unwavering commitment to excellence," Lucien replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You will not only be dancing for yourself but for the legacy of our family."
Ji-hoon took a deep breath, trying to mask his resistance. "What if I don't want to be part of that legacy?"
Lucien's expression hardened, and Ji-hoon knew he had crossed a line. "You will be, Étienne. You have no choice in this matter. You are destined for greatness, and I will not accept anything less."
Just then, Yuna entered the room, her demeanor light, but she immediately sensed the tension. "Good morning! What are we discussing?" she asked, a smile plastered on her face.
"Training," Lucien said curtly, his tone brokering no disagreement. "I am going to train Étienne myself."
Yuna's expression flickered with concern, but she quickly masked it. "That sounds… intense," she said carefully. "Maybe we should ease him into it?"
Lucien shot her a look that silenced her. "He needs to be challenged. You should be proud, Yuna. Our son is stepping into his role."
Ji-hoon felt a wave of frustration wash over him, and as breakfast continued, he found it hard to focus on the conversation. His mind raced with thoughts of rebellion, of finding a way to escape the clutches of Lucien's demands.
After breakfast, Ji-hoon slipped away to the gardens, seeking solace in the tranquility of nature. The vibrant flowers swayed gently in the breeze, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him. He closed his eyes, envisioning a world where he could dance freely, where expectations did not dictate his every move.
But before he could lose himself in those thoughts, he overheard a familiar voice—a voice tinged with distress. It was Yuna, speaking softly in French. Curious, he crept closer, hiding behind a large oak tree.
"Lucien, please," she said, her voice trembling. "He's only ten years old! You cannot expect him to carry such a burden. He's just a child."
Lucien's voice was low and firm. "He must be prepared, Yuna. The world of ballet is unforgiving, and if he does not learn discipline now, he will crumble under pressure later. It's a harsh reality, but it is one he must face."
"But he's still learning! You can't push him this hard. It's not fair!" Yuna's voice broke, and Ji-hoon felt a pang of sadness hearing her distress.
"It's not about fairness. It's about necessity. You of all people should understand the importance of legacy. He has to be molded into a man capable of greatness," Lucien insisted, his tone unyielding.
Ji-hoon felt a surge of anger bubble within him. Why couldn't they see that he was still just a boy?
"You were not there for him when he needed you most, Lucien," Yuna's voice softened, a note of sadness creeping in. "I left him to protect him from the world you are now trying to immerse him in. He deserves a chance to choose his path, not be forced into one."
The weight of her words struck Ji-hoon like a blow. Did she really believe that? Did she wish for him to have the freedom to choose, to be more than just a puppet in Lucien's grand design?
"His path is already chosen," Lucien replied coldly. "It's time you accept that. The sooner he learns, the better."
Yuna sighed, her voice breaking. "I just want him to be happy, Lucien. I want him to find joy in dance, not see it as a burden."
Their conversation faded as Ji-hoon stepped back, his heart racing. He was caught in the middle of a battle between their desires—Lucien's relentless push for greatness and Yuna's plea for his happiness. But where did he fit into this tangled web of expectations?
As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the estate, Ji-hoon made his way back inside, a storm brewing in his chest. He wanted to find a way to assert his own identity, to tell Lucien that he wouldn't simply follow orders without question.
That evening, as he prepared for bed, Ji-hoon looked in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with a mix of determination and uncertainty. He had a decision to make. Would he allow Lucien to shape him into a figure of prestige, or would he fight for his own identity?
As he lay in bed, Ji-hoon resolved that tomorrow, he would confront Lucien. He would not be silent anymore. He would carve out his own path, even if it meant standing up against the very man who sought to control him.