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She heard familiar voices on the way out of her home.  It could have been neighbors, but signs are pointed elsewhere.

Chapter 18: The Towel She stopped. She was wrapped in a large white bath towel that covered her from chest to mid-thigh. Her hair was wet and combed back, and her shoulders glistened with moisture. The steam drifted around her like a halo. She looked at Liam. He was standing in the middle of the loft wearing nothing but a pair of tight black boxer-briefs. His narrow chest rose and fell rapidly. His collarbones stood out sharply, and the tendons in his neck were taut. Sophie's eyes widened slightly. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. She didn't look shocked—not in the bad way. Quite the opposite. "Oh," she said, biting her lip gently. "I thought you'd be... more dressed." Liam felt the heat climb into his face, but it was a different kind of heat now. The shame of his mother was gone—or at least shoved under the bed along with his thermals—replaced by a sudden, intense awareness of his own half-naked body and the girl standing in front of him. "I was... just changing," he said hoarsely. He ran a hand through his hair. "It was boiling in the ski stuff." "I can see that," she said. Her gaze slid briefly down over his torso, down to his waist, and back up again. It was an appraising look. An approving look. "But you don't seem to be suffering too badly now." She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. They were alone. The light from the small window fell softly across her bare shoulders. "Was your mum up here?" she asked casually, heading towards her bag. "Yeah," Liam said quickly. "She was just... picking up some laundry." "Okay." Sophie seemed unbothered. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a pair of knickers. Small, black, lace. Liam's mouth went dry. "I need to get dressed," she said, turning to him with a teasing glint in her eye. "Unless you're planning to stand there and stare?" Liam cleared his throat. "I'm not staring." "Aren't you?" She grinned. "It rather feels like it." She stepped out of her flip-flops. "Turn around," she said. Her voice was soft, flirtatious. It wasn't a command to protect her modesty; it was a game. Liam turned slowly so that he had his back to her. He stared at the wall, but every nerve in his body was strung taut. He could hear every sound behind him. The towel dropping to the floor with a soft thump. Fabric against skin. "Are you peeking?" she asked. Her voice came from floor level. She was putting her knickers on. "No," he lied. He could see her shadow on the wall in front of him. A slender, curved silhouette, bending forward. "Good," she said. A moment of silence. Only the sound of her getting dressed. "You can look now," she said. Liam turned around. She was standing with her back to him. She was wearing only the knickers. Her back was bare, smooth, and narrow. She was pulling a t-shirt over her head, but she was doing it slowly. She was letting him see. When her head came through the neck hole, she turned and shook her hair into place. She smiled at him. A secret, conspiratorial smile. "There," she said. "Now we're both decent. Nearly." She looked him up and down again, taking her time. Her gaze lingered on his legs. "You've got nice legs, Liam. Skiing really suits you." Then she tilted her head, grinning. "But we might need to get you doing some press-ups or something. You look like a flamingo—all legs and nothing up top." She poked him lightly in the ribs. He flinched—partly because it tickled, partly because she was right. He was slight. Narrow shoulders, long thin arms, a chest that looked like it belonged to someone two years younger. His legs were the only part of him that had any definition, and even those were more wire than muscle. "I'm working on it," he said. "Mmm," she said, unconvinced. She sat down on her bed and started pulling on socks. Then she looked up at him. "Actually—did you eat properly today? Because you look a bit... sharp around the edges. Like, cheekbones-sharp, not cool-sharp." "I ate," said Liam. "We had crisps." "Crisps. Crisps and a Coke. That's not lunch, Liam, that's a vending machine accident." She shook her head. "My mum's making soup. You're having two bowls. I'm not having you pass out on me." "Yes, Mum," he said, and immediately regretted the word. Sophie just laughed. "Someone's got to feed you. You clearly can't be trusted." The phrase passed through him like electricity, but she'd already moved on, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. "What's the plan for tonight?" she asked without looking up. "Shall we do something? Or are you hanging out with your parents?" The question hit him like a cold flannel. Parents. Mum. Dad. They were downstairs right now. They were talking about him. They were talking about what to "do with him." The sentence was coming. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I think... I think we're eating soon." "Okay," said Sophie. She stood up, fully dressed now in joggers and a t-shirt. She walked over to him. She stopped very close. She placed a hand on his bare chest. Her palm was warm against his skin, and he could feel her fingers over his sternum, over the place where his heart was doing something irregular. "But afterwards," she whispered. "Maybe we could do something. Yeah?" Liam nodded mutely. "Yeah." She smiled and walked past him towards the stairs. "I'm just popping down to dry my hair. Coming?" "In a minute," said Liam. She disappeared down the stairs. Liam stood alone. He looked at his bed. Under it, shoved into the dark corner where the mattress met the wall, lay the bundle of stained thermals and damp boxer shorts. He could see the edge of the grey fabric poking out from beneath the duvet he'd pulled down to hide it. Downstairs, he could hear the low murmur of adult voices—too quiet to make out words, but the tone was unmistakable. It was the sound of people making decisions about someone who wasn't in the room. He sat on the edge of his bed. He put his head in his hands. Sophie thought he needed feeding up. Sophie thought his legs were nice. Sophie wanted to do something tonight. His mother was downstairs telling his father that he'd wet himself twice in two days and lied about it both times. He sat there for five minutes, breathing, trying to assemble the pieces of himself into something that could walk into a room and face what was coming. Then he pulled on some clothes, took a deep breath, and went downstairs. Chapter 19: The Collective Liam came down the stairs. He was fully dressed, but he still felt exposed. He could hear voices from the living room and kitchen. They were muted but intense. Not the usual holiday laughter. It was the sound of adults holding a meeting. He stepped into the living room. The scene that met him made him stop. In the open-plan kitchen, his father James and Sophie's father Rob were chopping vegetables for the evening's chili con carne. Sophie sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island with her back to the living room, chatting with them. She was laughing at something Rob said. She knew nothing. But in the seating area, bathed in the glow from the wood burner, sat Grace and Claire. They were sitting close together, facing each other. Grace was leaning forward, speaking in a low, serious voice. Claire was listening intently, nodding slowly, her expression one of deep sympathy. Grace looked up when Liam came in. She stopped mid-sentence. "Come here, Liam," she said. She patted the empty seat on the sofa beside her. Liam shot a nervous glance towards the kitchen. Sophie hadn't seen him yet. The fathers were acting normal, but James sent him a quick, tight nod over his shoulder. A nod that said: We know. Do as your mother says. Liam walked to the sofa. His legs felt like lead. He sat on the edge of the cushion, as far from Claire as possible. "What's going on?" he whispered. "Why are you... sitting like this?" Claire smiled at him. It wasn't her usual brisk smile. It was a soft, pedagogical smile. She leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. "It's alright, Liam," she said warmly. "Grace has told me everything. About the accidents. And the bag in the garden." Liam felt as though the floor had vanished beneath him. He stared at his mother with disbelieving eyes. "You've told her?" he whispered. "Her?" "I had to, Liam," said Grace calmly. "We can't have secrets that affect other people. The neighbour's dog... Claire saw it, and it's their neighbour. And Rob apparently saw you this morning, he says. We can't keep lying and sneaking around. It only creates more stress for you." "But it's my private life!" Liam's voice cracked. He looked frantically towards the kitchen. "Keep your voice down," said Grace firmly. "Dad and Rob know too. We've discussed it all." "So you've told Rob as well?" Liam sagged. Sophie's father. The man he'd drunk red wine with yesterday. The man who was supposed to respect him. "We're all adults here, Liam," said Claire soothingly. "And we just want to help. Honestly, I was actually relieved when Grace told me." "Relieved?" Liam stared at her. "Yes," said Claire with a shrug. "The way you've been behaving... running from the table, throwing bags out of windows, being strange... I was worried it was drugs. Or that you'd stolen something. Hearing that it's just... bladder issues. Well, that's manageable. Accidents happen to anyone." She said it as if he were five years old and had knocked over a vase. Bladder issues. The words hung in the air, sticky and diminishing. "Some boys are just a bit slower to... get the system under control," she continued kindly. "My nephew had the same problem until he was fourteen. He had to wear night pants too. There's no shame in it. It just takes a bit of training." Liam clenched his fists in his lap. He was seventeen. He wasn't fourteen. And he certainly wasn't five. "So what now?" he asked coldly, without looking at them. Grace cleared her throat. She straightened her back. Now came the official part. "Dad and I have talked with Claire and Rob. And we've agreed that we need to tighten the rules. For your own sake. And for the holiday's sake." She paused. He could see her choosing her words carefully, and something in her delivery told him this wasn't entirely her script. There was a constraint in it—a sense of compromise, as if the version she was delivering had been negotiated down from something harder. "I told you this morning what would happen if you couldn't be honest with me," she said quietly. "And you made your choice. So these are the consequences." She counted on her fingers. "First: you clearly can't manage without protection during the day either. From now on, for the rest of the week, you wear DryNites round the clock. Twenty-four seven. No exceptions. No second chances." Liam opened his mouth to protest, but she raised her hand. "Second: I don't trust you to put them on yourself. You've shown that you cheat. So every morning and every evening, I help you. Physically. I check that you're clean, I apply cream if necessary, and I put it on you properly. And I take the used one away, so you don't have to worry about storing it in the bedroom." Liam felt the heat in his cheeks. Claire sat nodding in agreement, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that his mother should change him. "And third," Grace continued, "we need to get on top of the bladder emptying. You don't feel it in time. So from tomorrow, we're introducing fixed toilet times. Every three hours. Wherever we are. Whatever we're doing." "Oh, come on," Liam groaned. "I'm not a dog that needs walking." "No, you're not a dog, but you're clearly not grown-up enough to manage it yourself, and I'm the one in charge," said Grace sharply. "You wet yourself twice today, Liam. Because you didn't go in time." She leaned forward. "Now—originally, I wanted to keep you with me for the rest of the week. Skiing with the adults. No more going off on your own." Something shifted in the room. James, who had been listening from the kitchen doorway, stepped forward. "But we talked about that, Grace," he said. His voice was calm but firm. "He's seventeen. He's not a little boy. We can't chain him to us." "I know that," said Grace, and Liam caught the tightness in her jaw—the look of someone conceding ground she hadn't wanted to give. "Which is why we've agreed on a compromise." She turned back to Liam. "If you're off on your own—skiing with Sophie, for example—you send me a photo." "A photo?" "A photo of the toilet," she said. "When you're in there. So I know you've gone. Every three hours. And if you don't send it, or if you're late... we come and get you. And you spend the rest of the day with the adults." She held his gaze. "I need confirmation that you're keeping to the schedule. That's the deal. It's this, or you ski with me. Your choice." Liam stared at her. It was a digital prison. He'd be alone with Sophie, and in the middle of everything he'd have to run to the toilet and send photographic evidence to his mother to prove he was potty training. But the alternative—skiing behind Grace all day, checked at lunchtime, managed like a nursery child while Sophie skied ahead with someone else—was worse. He understood, with a sickening clarity, that this was the lesser evil. And that someone at that kitchen table had argued for it on his behalf. "It's completely out of proportion," he whispered. "Why do the others have to be involved? Why does Rob have to know?" "Because we're a group, and because we're guests in their house," said Claire gently. "And now you don't have to hide it from us. If you need to go, just say so. Even to Rob. He knows. He doesn't judge you. He just wants to help you remember." "It's humiliating," said Liam. The tears were pressing now. "No," said Grace. "What's humiliating is walking around in wet trousers smelling of urine. This is care. This is responsibility." She looked at her watch. "And we start now. Dinner's ready in twenty minutes. We need to get you sorted before then." She stood up. She reached her hand down to him. "Come on, Liam. Let's go up and get it on. So you can sit at the table without being nervous." She said it loudly enough for Claire to hear. Claire smiled encouragingly at him. "Go on with your mum, Liam. It'll be over in a flash." Liam looked towards the kitchen. Sophie was still sitting with her back to them. Every adult in the room except her knew. The four of them had formed a ring around him. He stood up slowly. He felt small. Smaller than ever. He walked towards the stairs without looking at Claire. Grace walked just behind him, her hand resting lightly on his back, as though she were guiding a prisoner. As they reached the stairs, Rob looked up from the chili. He caught Liam's eye. He winked. A kind, sympathetic wink. The sort a man gives a boy he feels sorry for—well-meant, but impossible to receive as anything other than what it was: pity from a grown man who knew your mother was about to put a nappy on you. Liam went up the stairs to his bedroom, to the changing station, to the new reality.

Annoyed?! Oh my gosh, NEVER! I love it!! 💕 Oh thank you so much!! 🥰 🥹 You're so nice 💜 Chapter Thirty-Nine: For the Record Adam pursed his lips as he lay on the mat in the communal house floor, staring at the ceiling in irritation. His mother had moved from agreeing to talk about Japok immediately to the usual lunchtime diaper change, and he felt more than irritated by it (despite knowing he needed it). He turned his head to one side, staring at the wall of talchoom masks, then huffed as he looked at the other side, his bottom half lifted, his lips pursed as he stared at Boja’s profile, who was staring out the open doors. “Boja,” Joomi called out as she reached into the diaper bag. “Could you please set up the gramophone?” “Yes, Emonim,” he replied quickly, standing to all fours and prowling silently to the far side of the room. Adam squinted in confusion, watching the tiger for a moment before looking at her, perplexed. “Gramophone? Like… an old record player?” he puzzled. “Yes,” she smiled warmly, sliding the fresh diaper beneath him and laying him gently atop it. “I thought…?” he trailed off, feeling like his brain hit a critical processing error. Joomi tittered at his expression as she taped the diaper on and leaned forward from her kneeling position, kissing the exposed skin just above the waistband. “I will explain,” she whispered to him, gently pulling down the onesie and snapping it shut. He flushed and nodded, looking over at Boja, who was pushing out a table-top record player with a large brass cylinder. Joomi took Adam’s hands and lifted him to his feet so he could step into the pants, which she lifted for him (to which he closed his eyes to hide his eye roll). “Now, agaya,” she began carefully as she folded up the changing mat. “You must promise me what you learn today stays between us.” “Of course,” he said immediately, but his shoulders stiffened at the stern look she gave him. “No idle promises,” she warned sharply, setting the mat on top of the bag and leaning back, sitting on her feet once more. She straightened her back, sitting at her full height, which was still impressive, and despite the softness in her tone, she exuded an authority reminiscent of Kang. “You must not speak a word of this outside the three of us. And even then – not without great precaution. I am trusting you to hold to your word, so: you must look into your heart and embrace that commitment before you can make this promise to me.” Feeling his palms become sweaty, he rubbed them against his pants as he swallowed and broke eye contact. His face tensed up in concentration as he wondered why this made him nervous — he knew he was capable of keeping a secret. In fact, he was rather proud of himself for thus far navigating the family with the translations — Oh! Adam blinked as he looked at her, flashing her a smile. That had to be why she felt comfortable trusting him now. He had managed to understand Shik, Seo-ya, and his grandparents, all while not once responding or hinting that he could understand. Confident he could proceed, he put a hand over his heart, and he nodded. “I super promise, Eomma,” he said solemnly, despite the choice of words. She made a noise in her throat as she swallowed a laugh, then put her hands on either side of his head and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead. He looked up at her curiously when she stood, surprised not to be swept up into her arms. She turned towards the gramophone, a waft of air kicked up from her dress, brushing across him as he was left to walk on his own. Taking in the room from his low angle, he grinned slightly, realizing the last time he had been able to freely walk around in this part of the building, he had been diaper-less. “Thank you,” she purred to Boja, patting his head in appreciation, then lifting the record from the player to assess it. Adam slowly followed her as he looked around the room, feeling a bit uncertain of what he should do with himself. He paused about halfway through the room as the sounds of her cranking the machine echoed throughout. Boja’s eyes flashed, causing the main doors to slowly slide shut, darkening the large room and increasing the volume of the echoes. “When I was young, Father would use this place to speak with his brothers in private,” she explained loudly over the cranking, which then stopped as the machine whirred to life, and she smiled fondly at it as she placed the needle on the record. Static immediately pumped through the horn, and Adam marveled at the acoustics of the old building, for while the sound was coming from the horn, it bounced in a way as to feel like the room itself produced it. After a few seconds, a distinct Asian string instrument began to play, followed by a chorus of drums. Joomi lifted her head to the ceiling as she closed her eyes, looking rather serene. “He always played this record… Sometimes I would sit outside and listen, imagining they were dancing to it,” she continued with a smile on her face, her hands crossed over each other on her chest. Adam grinned, blowing a laugh out of his nose at the idea of those lumbering men dancing. He briefly glanced at Boja, whose head bobbed, apparently having the same thought. “But as I grew older, I came to realize the truth,” she sighed as her tone turned distinctly sad, her arms dropping to her sides as she looked over the ceiling, then down to Adam. “It was to obfuscate the details of their business discussions.” He swallowed and nodded, his focus snapping to attention. “I had thought…” she began as she took a few steps forward, her eyes softening. “Hoped, really, that if you did not know the details, even its name, you would be protected from it. But now I see that I can barely protect you from the family… let alone its business.” “Eomma,” Adam whispered as he stepped towards her, seeing her eyes glistening. His mouth hung open slightly; he wanted to reassure her, but he couldn’t find the words. “My grandfather took out a debt to save this place,” she stated as she gestured her arms out, and Adam intuitively understood she meant the entire complex. “It had been in the family for generations, but it takes a lot of effort and income to upkeep. He was desperate not to shame the family by losing its ancestral home, so he borrowed from a friend he had met during the war… who was the son of the head of Japok at the time.” She let out a sigh as she descended into a kneeling position before Adam, reaching a hand out to brush away some of his hair from his eyes. “I don’t know the details of what happened, but as you know…” she spoke softly, glancing to Boja as he approached and lay beside her. She placed a hand on his back, staring at his fur as she continued, “He was murdered due to this debt, which was then passed on to his wife and sons.” Adam finally took a seat as he nodded, stretching his legs out in front of him so the bottom of his foot touched Boja’s paw. “My father went to the debt holder to learn of the situation. This was before I was born, so I only know what I’ve been told… but he left that meeting having sworn himself to Japok, in exchange for isolating the debt to himself, rather than involving his mother and brothers, and that he would work it off himself.” Joomi paused as she took in a breath, looking up to the ceiling. “He was sixteen,” she said sadly, shaking her head slightly. “He dropped out of school and began working… and he ended up paying off his father’s debt in 8 years.” “How?” Adam gaped, understanding that to be impressive despite having no reference for how bad the debt was. But based on his mother’s tone, he didn’t need to know the specifics to understand it had been a hefty sum. “He was relentlessly hard working,” she smiled, idly running a hand along Boja’s spine. “He took every job, no matter how menial, every risk… he never said no, and didn’t worry if it meant promotion, or led to more jobs. He wasn’t tactical about what he did, just that he did it, and it served to chisel away at the debt. By the time I was born, he was cleared of all debts, high in rank, and making more than enough money to support his mother, brothers, and me, as well as this place.” Adam half-smiled, feeling a sense of awe and pride in his grandfather, though it rapidly deflated when he remembered what his mother’s birth was accompanied by. At a time when Kang should have felt most accomplished, he had lost his wife. “Having known no other job and sworn himself, Father remained with Japok,” she continued as she took in a deep breath. “I have many memories of him and Uncle Mung walking in here, leaving here…” “Just them?” Adam asked curiously. “Uncle Mung joined young,” Joomi nodded, running her hands over her skirt to flatten the wrinkles in the fabric. “He has been in Japok, like Father, all his adult life. Uncles Bom and Shik went to university and had other jobs for a time, so they did not join until later.” Adam squinted at that information, but she moved on before he could think of any follow-up questions. “One night, when I was… staying up late, I heard arguing,” she closed her eyes as she spoke. “Uncle Mung had been arrested… and Bak was so upset. It was late, so I suspect everyone thought I was in bed and Father didn’t think he needed to use this –” she said as she motioned to the gramophone with a hint of a mischievous smile. “He admitted things were getting more difficult for them. The government was getting better at tracking them…” She paused as she looked in pain, and she bit her lip. “Agaya, I… am ashamed to admit this to you,” she whispered as she opened her eyes, which had become glassy and wavered in the light. She swallowed as she dropped her head, bringing a fist to her mouth as she pressed her curled index finger against her upper lip. “But I… knew what technology was being used to track them… and I was confident I could counter it… so I offered.” “You were a child, Eomma,” he offered softly as he frowned. “And you wanted to help and protect your family.” “I know,” she murmured, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. “But it was the catalyst to everything. If I hadn’t offered, Japok would have eventually fizzled out… instead, while other members were getting caught, arrested, sentenced… with my help, Father and Uncle Mung became practically untouchable. And… eventually… the power and influence they had accumulated allowed them to get revenge for their father.” She dropped her head in shame, closing her eyes; it looked as if the weight of the world was suddenly on her shoulders. “Once your grandfather was in control, he began negotiations with the government,” she explained, her fingers still fidgeting with her skirt. “He did not want a war with them, so he traded, and still does, technology and services with the government in exchange for amnesty, or whatever else they may need or wish.” “It’s… it’s you,” Adam gaped at her, feeling once more baffled at his blindness to what had been staring him so obviously in the face all this time. “It’s not Grandfather that holds the power, it’s you. It’s always been you.” “No,” she quickly declined, reaching an arm out and taking his small hand into hers. “I have never wanted a part in it. I have only ever wanted to keep my family safe.” “Eomma,” he breathed, his hand gripping at hers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Without you, he wouldn’t have any of the power he does.” “I know,” she whispered as she looked pained by his words. “Then… then why do you allow them to talk to you like that?” he gasped as he threw his free hand out in indignation. He couldn’t wrap his head around the sheer audacity of anyone in this family belittling her. Sure, Kang deserved recognition for saving this place and his family in a time of crisis; he saved the family from destitution or worse, but she was the reason it was thriving. “Why do you let anyone talk down to you, ever? You let Uncle Shik order you around, act as if you owe him anything – but they owe you everything!” “Adam, he is my uncle,” she explained, yet so softly, as if she didn’t want to say it. “So?!” he exclaimed incredulously, feeling his heart racing as he felt angry on her behalf, and it grew the more she refused to join. “He’s cruel to you!” “Agaya,” she injected weakly, the shame still lingering on her face and in her voice. “It is our way. It is our culture to respect our elders… to obey their wisdom.” “But,” he groaned as he threw his head back, briefly closing his eyes as he felt pained by her defense. “Respect goes both ways, Eomma.” “Well… Father has always been respectful about my inclusion and work,” Joomi admitted as she swallowed, summoning the courage to criticize her family. “He has never asked me to work on anything I didn’t want to, and never pushes me to work faster, nor set any deadlines… ever. But… others are not so understanding. Others… see me as… a resource. An employee.” Adam swallowed hard as he watched her struggle to say even the slightest criticism, and even then, she appeared unwilling to name who (despite knowing at least one). As he stared at her in silence, he could practically see the weight of the burden and pain she was carrying. From the guilt of her own part in the criminal enterprise, to the pain of how her own family viewed and treated her, and her inability to do anything about it… he felt a wave bubble from his chest, up through his throat and cheeks, and ending at his eyes, as he felt the tears begin to form. He took in a breath as he summoned the will to force it back down, blinking a few times to clear his vision and dissipate the excess water. “It is more than that,” Boja injected, causing both of them to quickly look at him. “They are dependent on you.” Adam nodded in both agreement and gratitude, glad to have his attention refocused as his eyes moved around the tiger in thought at his statement. “And that’s uncomfortable,” the blonde added to the observation. “Especially for a group that… thrives on power. That attracts people who want it.” Boja nodded as he looked up at Joomi, who gave a subtle nod as she swallowed. Adam blew air out of his nose, shaking his head slightly as he marveled at how little she wanted that power, but how much damage she could do if she did. Sucking on his canine tooth, he wrestled with the flood of questions in his mind as he tried to grapple with this new information, applying context to previous events, and current mysterious ones… all while feeling that compelling urge to lift the weight from her shoulders. And, as often it went with Adam, the emotional needs of the moment won out over the intellectual. “Eomma,” he started quietly, scooting closer to her to put his small hand on her knee, flashing a smile at just how ridiculous their size difference was. “None of this is your fault.” She took in a quick breath and held it, her eyebrows pinching together as she lifted her hand to her mouth, her fingers against her lips. His smile widened as he felt a sense of deja vu. “You were a child who realized she could keep her father and uncle safe. Any kid in your position would do the same,” he stated, brushing over all the exceptions to such a statement that came to mind. “And you’ve been trapped by that moment of kindness ever since.” As if in slow motion, Joomi closed her eyes, and she looked pained for a moment… but as she exhaled, there was a relief that washed over her, and her expression shifted to one trying to hold back a tide of emotion. She gave a nod as she opened her glassy eyes, placing both of her hands over her heart. “Thank you, Adam,” she whispered. “I am relieved you are not… ashamed of me.” “Ashamed?” he scoffed immediately, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he slowly grinned. “You seriously were afraid of that?” Joomi’s gaze dropped shyly as she gave a slight incline of her head. “You had such a high opinion of me when you came,” she admitted with a slight blush, lifting a hand to wipe away a tear that had begun to fall. “It could only go down, I thought.” Adam blinked a few times in utter shock, his brain unable to grok how she could think any of this information would impact his opinion of her. He let out a laugh as he ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair, and then another laugh. Rapidly, it built into bursts of continuous laughter, unable to really parse what precisely was funny, but the moment had struck a funny bone. He could think of multiple reasons why that idea was funny, both tragically and ironically, but just beginning to laugh at all felt good, and the pressure released was much needed. He leaned forward as he dropped his head, laughing downwards, then rocked his head back as his face turned red from exertion. Joomi looked worried for a moment, caught off guard by this, but it soon became contagious, and she chuckled behind a hand, her shoulder quivering as she held back her volume, controlling the release of the built-up pressure. “Oh, good. You both have gone crazy,” Boja stated dryly as their laughter quieted down, which caused Adam to wheeze and belt out another round. Joomi leaned forward, almost in a bow, as she placed a hand on the tiger, still controlling her laughter, though with more difficulty. “Oooh, man,” Adam wheezed again, lifting his hands to rub the tears out of his eyes, and he shook his head. “I love you, Eomma. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to make me think less of you.” Joomi lifted her head, her eyes wide as she went to put her hand over her mouth, but changed her mind and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his small frame in an overwhelming hug. “I love you too, Adam,” she whispered into his hair just before planting a kiss on his head and expelling another relieved sigh. He smiled as he leaned against her, closing his eyes as he basked in the incredible warmth her natural body heat exuded, though it felt a little warmer than usual. “Sooo,” he started after a long beat. “Can I, uh… still ask questions?” “Of course,” she smiled as she released him, glancing over her shoulder towards the gramophone and looking back down to him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “The record is still playing.” “Is that how that works?” he asked with a laugh. “I get until the record is done?” “That’s how it works,” she chuckled, and he stiffened up, realizing he was wasting time. “Oh! Okay! So - uh… okay, you said you have no deadlines, right?” he blurted out quickly, his eyes darting to the record as he wondered how much time it had left. “Correct,” she nodded, trying hard to hold back her amusement. “So,” Adam squinted as his mind was racing with questions, and he was trying to parse the important ones with as little delay as possible. “Then why have you been told you’re behind?” “Well,” she cleared her throat as she became slightly uncomfortable, shifting in her position as she lifted and settled back down on her feet. “I am usually more productive than I have been recently.” “Since I arrived, you mean,” he offered with a smirk, and she inclined her head with a mirrored smirk. “So it’s not that you have a schedule, but… they’re just used to a certain… output?” “That is correct,” she nodded. “Okay… okay… uuhhh… what’s with the border stuff?” he blurted out as he thumbed behind him, indicating the labs. “Mmm, as could be expected when working with a government, new technology is prioritized for the military,” she remarked with a tilt of her head. “As Japok has traded in many advancements to the government, they have made sure to teach their own resources how to replicate and manage them. So… seeing this as a potential future issue, Uncle Shik has been pivoting to services with them rather than outright technology exchange.” “The services being… you?” “And Boja,” she smiled at the tiger, who lifted his head proudly. “You’re… okay with that?” Adam squinted, trying to find where exactly she distinguished herself from working for Japok and not. “Well, I think it is in Goryeo’s best interest that the government be free to act as it must and as quickly as possible,” she intoned her opinion cautiously, attempting to answer him truthfully without casting aspersions. “Yet I do feel I am giving back to my country when I do help.” She then paused and frowned, her eyes very briefly glancing back, as if to look towards the house. “But how we work with the government has been in Uncle Shik’s purview for many years now.” “Grandpa didn’t have a problem with it?” Adam asked with a squint. “He did,” she started carefully, looking up in thought. “I may have… assured him I was fine with it. To… keep the peace.” Adam raised an eyebrow at her as he smirked, despite his indignance, and she smiled as she bit her lower lip. “Is that why things are complicated?” Adam asked as he gestured in the direction of the house. “Because Uncle Shik is important with the government work?” “I think so,” she nodded, pressing her lips together when she paused. “Uncle Shik is likely being held responsible for his wife’s actions… and since the initial conflict was your presence in the labs, which Father approved before Aunt Seo-ya’s arrival, this is both a family and business issue. He and Aunt Seo-ya overstepped, insulted, and challenged Father… in both.” Adam felt a grimace come to his face before he realized he was doing it. He wasn’t sure why that made him unhappy… and as the music from the gramophone swelled, he panicked, suspecting that it might mean the record was almost done. “Uh.. oh! The tattoos!” he blurted out, running a hand along his forearm. “Do they all have them?” “Yes, it’s a mark of dedication and loyalty,” she explained with a grin, enjoying his attempts to squeeze in as many questions as possible. “They are tattooed by the mark of Japok, and the mark of their branch, alongside achievements and rank. Yoon-nim is the current tattooist… is that the word?” “What’s the mark of Japok? How many branches are there? What are their marks?” He blurted out as his eyes glanced at the record, noting that the needle was near the middle and the music neared its end. Joomi chuckled as she put up three fingers. “I don’t know how many branches, but members span the country, and there are several branches in Hanseong,” she quickly replied and put down one finger. “Marks of Japok and its branches are by animals, often predators. Hyun’s, for example, are marked by the moon bear.” She put her second finger down as only her index finger remained, and she glanced over her shoulder as the song ended, and the static noise filled the air. She teased Adam with a shrug, but giggled at his expression, and before he could complain, she put her last finger down. “And the mark of Japok is the dragon,” she whispered to him as she winked and stood to her feet, walking to the gramophone. Adam’s eyebrows pinched as he looked down, thinking of the large dragon in his dream that encircled the tree and cast a shadow upon him and the creatures below. Adam pursed his lips as he glanced at Boja. “I have no association with the tiger branch,” he replied curtly, and Adam burst into a laugh. Joomi pushed the gramophone back into the cabinet and shut the door, spinning around as she placed her hands upon it and gave Adam a stern look. “Remember your promise,” she warned, though the authority she had previously held when he made the promise was gone, replaced now with her usual, warm, and semi-weak tone. “I will,” he smiled, placing a hand on his heart. “Since we’re banned from the house until dinner, are we returning to the labs?” “Yes, I think we shall,” she smiled as she approached him, sweeping her hands down to him, and he met her halfway, walking into her grip. He brought a hand to his ear as he had a thought, glancing back at Little Boja, who sat diligently next to the diaper bag. “Eomma… the earpieces,” he started, looking from the stuffed field general to her. “All of this work… you’re keeping it secret, aren’t you?” “Yes,” she nodded, glancing down at Boja as he stood to join her. “So, it really looks like you’re not working, doesn’t it?” he winced, both at that idea and hoping he wasn’t already breaking his promise; he had thought this was a vague enough observation, and was relieved that she did not reprimand or show any sign of disapproval. In fact, she smiled at him. “Well, I have been multi-tasking, but yes… my current productivity, excluding our work, does appear to be dramatically low,” she affirmed with a slight squeeze as she glided across the room, sweeping her arm down to pick up and hand him Little Boja. “And I will not make apologies for it. Because you, my little spark, have reminded me of why I started all of this to begin with.” She lifted the bag to her shoulder, pushing it behind her, then placed a hand on Boja’s head, and she placed a long kiss on Adam’s forehead. As she moved back, he stared into her eyes, able to see his own reflection in her large pupils. “To protect my family.”

HAHA oh my goodness thank you 😂 FIXED! HEHEHE 😇 💜 Heheh yeah Charlie is in his element 🤭 and yeah, seeing a home where Littles were actually given choices and listened to (mostly) hit Lexi really hard. 🥺 

Hello forum members. I have one question for everyone. Does anyone know the author of this blog? Where can I find them? I would be very grateful for any help. Here's a link to his blog. I don't think the author runs this blog, but he's probably active online in general. https://ridiculouslythickdiaper.org/