His Unbreakable Walls.

The sleek black SUV pulled up to a grand, glass-fronted building, its name emblazoned in bold, glittering letters: "Lee's Atelier." Mrs. Lee, radiating warmth and a hint of mischief, turned to her sons, Junseong and Seongho, who were seated in the back. "Ready for a little fashion adventure, boys?"

Junseong, ever playful to his Mom, grinned. "Ready to spend all my money, Mom?"

Seongho, typically quiet and reserved, couldn't help but chuckle. "Don't worry, hubby, Mom has a way of finding the perfect outfit without breaking the bank."

Mrs. Lee, her eyes twinkling, led them into the boutique. Seongho stopped short, his eyes widening in awe. The boutique was a haven of luxurious fabrics and exquisite displays, a symphony of light and color. He had never seen anything like it.

"It's...beautiful," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't know you had a boutique like this, Mom."

Mrs. Lee, her heart swelling with pride, smiled warmly. "Oh, this is just one of my little ventures, Seongho. I've always had a passion for fashion."

Junseong, who had been browsing the racks, turned to Seongho with a mischievous grin. "You're just discovering my mom's empire? I've been spoiled by her fashion sense since I was a kid."

Seongho, his cheeks flushing slightly, turned to Junseong, his eyes narrowed playfully. "You never mentioned you had a fashion mogul for a mother! Why keep this secret from me?"

Junseong groaned, his shoulders slumping in mock despair. "Come on, Seongho, don't let my Mom scold me."

Mrs. Lee, her eyes flashing with a playful glare, stepped in. "Junseong! Don't you dare groan at my angelic son-in-law. He's right, you should have brought him here sooner."

A chorus of welcoming voices greeted them as the boutique staff, impeccably dressed and radiating warmth, approached. "Welcome Chajangnim we were already expecting you, Junseong-nim and Seongho-ssi ," they said in unison. "We are delighted to assist you today."

Mrs. Lee, her eyes twinkling , gestured towards the tuxedo section, a curated haven of elegant designs and impeccable tailoring. "Now, let's get you boys fitted for the Met Gala. It's just a week away, and you need to look your absolute best."

Junseong, was already browsing the racks, his eyes scanning the intricate details of each tuxedo. "Look at this one, Mom! The velvet is so soft, and the cut is just perfect."

Seongho, who shared his mother-in-law's discerning eye for fashion, approached a rack of classic tuxedos. "This one is timeless, Mom. The simplicity of the design is elegant, and the tailoring is impeccable."

Mrs. Lee, a proud glint in her eyes, watched her sons with a mixture of amusement and affection. "You have such good taste," she said. "I'm so proud of you."

Junseong, playfully rolled his eyes, winked at his mother. "It's all thanks to you, Mom. You've been teaching me about fashion since I was a kid."

Seongho, who usually kept his emotions close to his chest, couldn't help but feel a warm glow of affection for his mother-in-law. He had always admired her impeccable taste and her knowledge of fashion. "I've learned a lot from you, too, Mom," he said, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "You have a real eye for detail."

Mrs. Lee, her heart swelling with pride, ushered them into a private fitting room. "Now, let's see how these beauties fit," she said, her voice brimming with excitement.

Junseong, then strutted out of the fitting room, his tuxedo impeccably tailored, a playful grin on his face. "What do you think, Mom? Do I look like a million bucks?"

Mrs. Lee, her eyes sparkling with approval, clapped her hands. "You look absolutely dashing, Junseong! The color is perfect for you, and the fit is impeccable."

Seongho, who had been quietly observing, emerged from the fitting room, his tuxedo a classic masterpiece of understated elegance. "What do you think, Mom?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Mrs. Lee, her eyes filled with pride, smiled warmly. "You look incredible, Seongho! The classic cut is perfect for you, and the tailoring is exquisite. You look like a prince."

Seongho, touched by her genuine admiration, felt a wave of warmth wash over him. He had always been a bit shy about expressing his feelings, but his mother-in-law's approval meant the world to him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of bonding with her, a shared passion for fashion that transcended any differences in their personalities.

As the afternoon wore on, the boutique buzzed with activity. Fabric swished, laughter echoed, and the hum of excitement filled the air. Junseong and Seongho, their eyes sparkling with excitement, tried on different tuxedos, each one more elegant than the last. Mrs. Lee, her eyes twinkling with pride, watched her sons with a mixture of amusement and affection.

The Met Gala was just a week away, and she couldn't wait to see her sons shine in their impeccably tailored tuxedos, a testament to her impeccable taste and their shared love of fashion.

After shopping for what seemed like hours,they decided to call it again after finding the perfect outfits,Mrs Lee stayed back because she told them that she'd be expecting a friend of hers who'd be coming tomorrow the boutique today.

The sleek black SUV pulled away from Lee's Atelier, leaving a trail of shimmering dreams in its wake. Mrs. Lee, her heart brimming with pride, watched her sons disappear into the bustling Seoul traffic. The Met Gala was just a week away, and she couldn't wait to see them shine in their impeccably tailored tuxedos, a testament to her impeccable taste and their shared love of fashion.

Back at their home, a haven of modern elegance and understated luxury, Junseong, his arms laden with shopping bags, headed straight for the shower. The scent of expensive leather and fine fabrics clung to him, a lingering reminder of the afternoon's fashion extravaganza. After a refreshing shower, he emerged, feeling invigorated and ready to tackle the mountain of documents piled on his desk. He had a case to crack, and he gave himself no room for relenting

. But first, a quick cuddle with grumpy Mangchi, . Minutes later, with a satisfied sigh, Junseong retreated to his study, the world outside fading away as he immersed himself in the intricacies of the embezzlement case.

Seongho, meanwhile, had dropped the shopping bags in his room, his mind still reeling from the opulence of Lee's Atelier. He couldn't help but feel a warmth of affection for his mother-in-law, a sense of bonding that had blossomed over the afternoon's fashion adventure. He picked up Mangchi, who purred contentedly in his arms, and headed towards the kitchen.

The maids, bustling about, greeted him with smiles. "Welcome back, Mr. Seongho," they said in unison. "How was your shopping trip?"

Seongho, his heart light with the day's events, chuckled. "It was an adventure, to say the least. Mrs. Lee has a real knack for fashion. I'm sure we'll all look amazing at the Met Gala."

"Oh, Mr. Seongho, you're going to be the best-dressed man there," one of the maids said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Mrs. Lee always knows how to make her sons look their best."

Seongho, his cheeks flushing slightly, thanked them and then excused himself to make a call. He had been meaning to call Tahiti, his friend he made in Bora Bora, since he arrived back in Korea. He hadn't heard from her since he left Bora Bora, and he was starting to worry. He dialed her number, his heart pounding with anticipation.

The screen lit up, revealing Tahiti's warm smile. "Seongho! I was just thinking about you. How is Korea?"

"It's been a whirlwind, Tahiti," Seongho said, his voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "My hubby's been dealing with this embezzlement case, and it's been a real challenge. But he's getting there. And I have to tell you about this amazing boutique my mother-in-law owns. It's like stepping into a world of luxury and fashion. We even went shopping for tuxedos for the Met Gala."

"Oh, Seongho, I'm so glad you're doing okay but the embezzlement case. . . . it's a pity but I trust Junseong to handle it," Tahiti said, her voice laced with a hint of longing. "I miss you so much. And the Met Gala sounds like it's going to be an unforgettable event. I can't wait to hear all about it."

Seongho, his heart swelling with love and longing, smiled. He couldn't wait to see her again, to share his everything with her. He told her more about the embezzlement case, and everything that had happened since he came back from Bora Bora. He told her about his good relationship with his mother-in-law, and the warm welcome he received from the maids. He told her everything, wanting to share every detail of his life with her, wanting to bridge the distance that separated them.

As the minutes turned into hours, their conversation flowed seamlessly, a symphony of shared laughter, whispered secres.. They talked about their dreams, their fears, their hopes for the future. They talked about everything and nothing. When they finally hung up, Seongho felt a sense of peace wash over him. He knew that despite the miles that separated them, he reminisced on the Bora Bora trip and how Tahiti helped him so much even though he wanted to ,he didn't know how to fully express his gratitude.

Seongho, his heart still warm from the video call with Tahiti, headed towards the study, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in hand. He found Junseong hunched over a stack of documents, his brow furrowed in concentration. He placed the glass on the desk, the scent of citrus filling the air.

"Here, you need a break," Seongho said, his voice soft. "You've been at it for hours."

Junseong, startled from his concentration, looked up, a weary smile gracing his lips. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"So, about Tahiti," Seongho began, his voice hesitant. "She once told me you two attended College today with that Yuna witch",How did she end up being a butler? when she went to the same college as you, a prestigious one at that."

Junseong sighed deeply, his gaze turning distant. "Tahiti was one of the brightest students back then. We used to fight for good grades, she was as sharp as a tack. But then everything went downhill."

He paused, his voice catching slightly. "Her parents had a terrible fight. Her mother, in a fit of rage, stabbed her father in the chest. He died instantly on the spot. After that Her mother was sentenced to life imprisonment, and her little brother was taken in by a foster family. The court didn't feel Tahiti was responsible enough to take care of him."

Seongho's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't imagine the pain Tahiti must have endured. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, a silent testament to the empathy he felt for his friend.

"Her aunt made her quit schooling," Junseong continued, his voice filled with sorrow. "Nobody saw her again until three years ago. I met her in Bora Bora, at a high-class restaurant. She was one of the waitresses. She told me how her aunt subjected her to different kinds of illicit way of life and then she had enough and decided to leave and began squatting with a friend."

Junseong's gaze met Seongho's, a flicker of pain in his eyes even thought he masked it perfectly. "I immediately informed the owner of Sunset Oasis Resort and asked him to employ Tahiti as a senior butler. I wanted to give her a good accommodation near the beach, a good pay, a fresh start. I also took back her little brother from the foster family and gave him to Tahiti. She was so grateful, she thanked me a billion times. I sent the boy, who was now nineteen, to school in Cambridge,he still lives there now."

Seongho, his heart breaking for Tahiti, couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down his cheeks, a torrent of grief and empathy. He couldn't believe the pain she had endured, the hardships she had faced. He felt a surge of anger towards the injustice of it all, a deep sense of protectiveness for his friend.

"She went through so much," Seongho sobbed, his voice choked with emotion. "And you, Junseong, you were so kind, so generous. You gave her a second chance, a new beginning. You're a good man."

Junseong, taken aback by Seongho's outpouring of emotion, didn't know how to comfort him. He stood up from his chair, his movements awkward, and awkwardly rubbed Seongho's back, hoping to soothe his distress. He had never seen Seongho cry before, and he felt a pang of sympathy for his husband, a feeling that was unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. He had not fallen in love with Seongho yet, but he found himself caring for him deeply, a feeling that was both confusing and compelling.

Seongho, his body wracked with sobs, buried his face in Junseong's chest, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. He felt a deep sense of gratitude for Junseong, for his kindness, his generosity, his unwavering support for Tahiti. He knew that Junseong had saved Tahiti, not just from a life of hardship but from a life of despair. He felt a profound sense of respect and admiration for his husband, a feeling that was growing stronger with each passing day.

Seongho's sobs gradually subsided, replaced by a series of sniffles that punctuated the silence of the study. Junseong, his heart aching for his husband, gently rubbed Seongho's back, offering silent comfort. He watched as Seongho's body relaxed, his breathing becoming slow and even. The tears had dried, leaving behind a trail of red on his cheeks, and his eyes were swollen, a testament to the depth of his emotions.

Minutes passed, and Seongho's sniffles died down, replaced by a soft, rhythmic breathing. Junseong bent down a little, only to discover that Seongho was already asleep, his eyes swollen and his lips jutted adorably. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable. Junseong couldn't help but smile, a small, tender smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He began to wonder whether Seongho had eaten dinner or not. He knew Seongho had been preoccupied with Tahiti, his phone glued to his hand for hours.

He deliberated for a moment, his mind racing. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries in their marriage, but he also didn't want to wake Seongho up. He looked so visibly tired, so fragile. After a few minutes of internal debate, Junseong decided to carry Seongho in his arms. He carefully lifted him, his heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and affection. He headed straight upstairs to their room, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet.

As he entered the room, he saw Mangchi playing at his scratching post. The cat, sensing their presence, immediately began to meow loudly, a high-pitched, demanding meow that echoed through the room. Junseong glared at the cat, his voice a low growl. "Mangchi, if you don't stop that, you'll wake Seongho up, and I'll be forced to make you eat your own cat food for a week."

He gently tucked Seongho in, his heart swelling with a strange mixture of tenderness and amusement. He then picked up Mangchi, who was still meowing out of the bedroom, and continued scolding the cat as if he was human. "I know you're a cat, but you need to learn some manners. This is a house, not a jungle. And you're not a lion, you're a fluffy, grumpy cat who needs to learn to respect his human companions."

He carried Mangchi into the living room, his voice still a low growl. He sat down on the couch, his mind racing. He sighed softly, trying to make sense of the events of the evening. Why had Seongho cried so much for Tahiti, someone he only knew for three months? He knew he wasn't in love with Seongho yet, but his respect for him had increased. He had never seen Seongho cry before, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. He had never felt so protective of someone, so concerned for their well-being. It was a strange feeling, a confusing mix of emotions that he couldn't quite understand.

He looked down at Mangchi, who was now rubbing against his leg, purring contentedly. He couldn't help but smile. The cat, with his grumpy demeanor and demanding meow, was a constant source of amusement. He was a reminder that life, even in the midst of heartbreak and uncertainty, could still be filled with moments of joy and laughter. He knew that he had a lot to learn about Seongho, about life itself. But he was willing to learn, to embrace the challenges that lay ahead. He was willing to care, to support.

The kitchen was a symphony of hushed whispers and muffled giggles. The maids, their eyes glued to the living room, watched Junseong as he sat on the couch, lost in thought, with Mangchi nestled comfortably in his lap. The cat, sensing his master's pensive mood, purred softly, his head resting against Junseong's chest.

"Look at him," one of the maids whispered, her voice barely a murmur. "He looks so deep in thought. I wonder what's going through that mind of his."

"He's probably thinking about that embezzlement case," another maid said, her voice laced with a hint of concern. "It must be a lot of pressure for a young man like him."

"Or maybe he's thinking about Mr. Seongho," a third maid suggested, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "He looked so heartbroken earlier. I bet Mr. Seongho has already melted that icy heart of his."

"Don't be silly," another maid scoffed. "Mr. Junseong is an ice king. He's not easily swayed. He's been through a lot, and he's built up a wall around his heart. Mr. Seongho is a kind and gentle soul, but even he won't be able to break through that wall."

The maids, their voices barely above a whisper, began to argue amongst themselves, their opinions clashing like the waves against the shore. Some argued that Seongho's kindness and sincerity would eventually win Junseong over, that he would melt the ice king's heart and make him a love-sick fool. Others insisted that Junseong was too guarded, too closed off, too damaged by his past to ever truly open up to anyone, let alone a man like Seongho.

"I bet Mr. Seongho will win him over," one maid declared, her voice filled with conviction. "He's got that special something, that spark that draws people in. He's got a heart of gold, and Mr. Junseong will eventually see that."

"Don't be ridiculous," another maid retorted, her voice sharp. "Mr. Junseong is a cold, calculating man. He's not interested in love or romance. He's only interested in his work, his career, his success."

The argument continued, each maid voicing their opinion, their voices a hushed symphony of speculation and intrigue. They watched Junseong, their eyes searching for clues, for signs of a change in his demeanor, for any indication of what was going on inside his mind. They were captivated by the unfolding drama, by the mystery of these two men, their lives intertwined in a web of love, loss, and uncertainty. They couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them, for their relationship, for their lives. They were caught up in the story, their hearts invested in the outcome, their minds filled with hopes and dreams.

From his position on the couch, Junseong remained oblivious to the hushed drama unfolding in the kitchen. He was lost in his own thoughts, his mind swirling with a mix of emotions. He was trying to make sense of Seongho's tears, of his own feelings, of the complex web of relationships that had entangled their lives. He was trying to understand what it meant to love, to care, to be vulnerable. He was trying to understand himself, to understand his own heart, to understand the world around him. He shook his head, pushing away the unsettling thoughts that had been swirling in his mind. Love was a weakness, a distraction, a dangerous game. He had no time for such frivolous pursuits. He had a career to build, a reputation to maintain, a legacy to leave behind. He reminded himself that he only cared and respected Seongho, and nothing more. Love was not in his dictionary. He would not allow himself to fall for anyone, never!.

He looked down at Mangchi, who was now rubbing against his leg, purring contentedly. He couldn't help but smile. The cat, with his grumpy demeanor and demanding meow, was a constant source of amusement. He was determined to stay focused on his goals, to keep his heart guarded, to never let himself fall in love. He was a man of logic, of reason, of control. He would not allow himself to be swayed by emotions, by feelings, by the allure of love. He had built a wall around his heart, and he would not let anyone tear it down.