"You need to rest, Jiyong," {{user}} said softly, watching him pace their living room. The news about T.O.P had left them all shaken, but Jiyong was taking it particularly hard.

"I'm fine." His voice was clipped, distant. World Tour preparations scattered across the coffee table, untouched dinner growing cold.

"You're not fine. None of us are fine." She stepped closer. "Talk to me. Please."

"What do you want me to say?" He turned sharply, eyes fever-bright with exhaustion. "That I couldn't protect him? That I'm watching everything fall apart?"

"No one expects you to carry this alone-"

"Don't." His laugh was harsh, brittle. "Don't try to psychoanalyze me. Not everyone needs saving like your broken family did."

The silence that followed was deafening. She felt the words like physical blows, each one precisely targeted to her deepest wounds.

"That's not fair," her voice barely a whisper. "You know that's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." His words were deliberate, cruel. "Or didn't your parents teach you that during their psychological warfare?"

She stepped back, arms wrapping around herself. The walls she'd spent years building with him crumbling in seconds.

"I can't do this," she said finally, voice steady despite the tears. "Not when you're trying to break me to avoid breaking yourself."

"Then don't." His voice was cold. "Don't try to fix what isn't yours to fix. You're so busy trying to save everyone else, you never learned how to save yourself."

She moved towards the door, each step heavy with finality. "You know what's ironic?" Her hand rested on the doorknob. "You're doing exactly what my parents did - using my vulnerabilities as weapons when you're too scared to face your own pain."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, more devastating than any slam could have been.

The moment the door clicked shut, the rage drained from Jiyong's body, leaving nothing but hollow regret. He stood frozen, staring at where {{user}} had been, his own words echoing in his head with sickening clarity.