The neon lights of Seoul flickered in the rain-soaked streets, but to Joon Ha, they felt hollow. The city that once belonged to him, where his name commanded power, now treated him like a forgotten ghost.

A sleek black sedan pulled up beside him. The tinted window rolled down, revealing Ha-Yoon. She stepped out, her beige coat wrapped tightly around her frame. The misty rain made her look almost ethereal under the dim glow of the streetlamp. But there was no softness in her gaze tonight.

“Get in,” she said, her voice steady, betraying none of the emotions she must have been feeling.

Joon Ha hesitated. He had nothing now—no wealth, no power, no home. What right did he have to pull her into this downfall?

As if sensing his hesitation, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the car. The door shut, sealing them away from the world outside.

For a long moment, silence filled the car, broken only by the rhythmic sound of rain against the windows.

“You don’t have to do this,” Joon Ha finally said.

Ha-Yoon turned to him, her expression unreadable. “And what do you expect me to do? Let you wander alone? Watch you fade into nothingness?”

“I have nothing left, Ha-Yoon.” His voice was quiet, almost defeated.

Her fingers curled into fists. “Then let’s build something from nothing.”

The car moved through the city, weaving through streets as if fate had already charted their course.

Joon Ha looked out the window. His world had collapsed overnight. But as long as she was beside him, he wasn’t completely lost.

The next morning, they arrived at a quiet, remote town on the outskirts of Seoul.

The house belonged to an old acquaintance of Joon Ha’s late father, a man who had once been a loyal friend. He had agreed to give them shelter, no questions asked.

It was nothing like the penthouses and grand halls Joon Ha once knew. The house was small, humble, with wooden walls worn by time.

But for now, it was home.

Ha-Yoon walked around, inspecting the place. “It’s… not bad.”

Joon Ha chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t have to lie.”

She turned to face him, her eyes suddenly serious. “Joon Ha, do you know why I married you?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“It wasn’t for the wealth or the power,” she continued. “It was because I believed in the man behind all of that.” She stepped closer, looking up at him. “You are more than your name, more than Haewon Group. And you will rise again.”

Joon Ha exhaled, his chest tightening with emotions he couldn’t express.

He had lost everything. But maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something greater.

Shloka/श्लोक/절

न हि कश्चित् कुर्वन् कर्म सर्वथा सुखमेधते।

कर्मणैव हि संप्राप्य लोके ख्यातिं च मोक्षकम्॥

na hi kaścit kurvan karma sarvathā sukhameḍhate।

karmaṇaiva hi saṁprāpya loke khyātiṁ ca mokṣakam॥

나 히 카슈찟 쿠르반 카르마 사르바타 수카메다떼।

카르마나이바 히 삼프라퍄 로께 캬띰 차 목샤깜॥

No one achieves true happiness without effort. Only through action can one gain both recognition in the world and ultimate liberation.

어떤 일도 노력 없이 이루어지지 않는다. 오직 행동을 통해서만 세상에서 명성을 얻고 궁극적인 해탈에 이를 수 있다.

Like Rama leaving Ayodhya with Sita, Joon Ha walks away from the world he once ruled—not as a fallen prince, but as a warrior who will rebuild himself. His exile is not the end—it is the test that will forge his destiny.

The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. Joon Ha stood at the edge of the dense forest, his breath visible in the cold morning air. Every step he took away from Seoul felt like a piece of his past was crumbling behind him.

Ha-Yoon emerged from the cottage, her silhouette outlined against the pale morning light. She had adapted to this life far better than he had—her quiet resilience, her ability to move forward as if she had never belonged to the world of wealth and power.

"You were up early again," she noted, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm.

Joon Ha exhaled, his jaw tightening. "I need to keep moving."

"Running won’t change what happened," she said softly.

His fists clenched at her words. "And doing nothing will?"

Before she could respond, the old hermit who had been watching them since their arrival stepped forward. His eyes, clouded with age but sharp with wisdom, rested on Joon Ha.

"You carry the weight of a lost kingdom," the old man murmured, his voice low but firm. "But a great storm does not destroy a mountain—it only shapes it."

Joon Ha frowned, his heart pounding at the eerily familiar words. "Who are you?"

The hermit smiled faintly, then simply walked away, leaving him with more questions than answers.

Days passed, and exile became a routine.

Each morning, Joon Ha trained—running through the foggy trails, forcing his body to endure the pain, the exhaustion. He had once been a man of luxury, but now he forced himself to become a man of survival.

Ha-Yoon, too, found her place. She worked with the villagers, helping them manage their businesses, offering advice that came naturally to her. Though their surroundings had changed, her intelligence and charm remained intact.

One evening, as they sat outside the cottage, watching the lake shimmer under the moonlight, Ha-Yoon broke the silence.

"You never asked me if I regret coming with you," she said.

Joon Ha turned to her, caught off guard. "Do you?"

She let out a soft laugh. "Never."

A part of him wanted to believe her, but another part feared that one day, she would see him as nothing more than a fallen prince, a man with nothing left to offer.

A gust of wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves. There was an unsettling energy in the air, as if something unseen was watching them.

"We can’t stay here forever," Joon Ha murmured.

Ha-Yoon nodded. "I know."

Silence stretched between them before she spoke again.

"What will you do?"

Joon Ha clenched his jaw. "Rebuild."

The night was calm, but the storm brewing in the distance was inevitable.

Shloka/श्लोक/절

नासतो विद्यते भावो नाभावो विद्यते सतः।

उभयोरपि दृष्टोऽन्तस्त्वनयोस्तत्त्वदर्शिभिः॥

Nā́sato vidyate bhāvo nābhā́vo vidyate sataḥ।

Ubhayorapi dṛṣṭo’ntas tvanayos tattva-darśibhiḥ॥

나아사토 비댜떼 바보 나아바보 비댜떼 사타하।

우바요라피 드리슈토안타스 트바나요스 탓트바달쉬비히॥

"Truth alone prevails; the unreal has no existence. Those who truly see understand the difference between illusion and reality."

"진실만이 존재하며, 거짓은 사라질 뿐이다. 진리를 보는 자는 환상과 현실의 차이를 이해한다."

Like Rama and Sita in exile, Joon Ha and Ha-Yoon navigate their journey not as an end, but as a path toward truth. The world may see their fall, but destiny has already written their rise.

The forest stretched endlessly before Joon Ha, a maze of towering trees and whispering leaves. He moved through it with purpose, his steps steady despite the burden of exile that pressed on his shoulders. Each day in this wilderness was a test—a challenge that stripped away the comforts of his past life and demanded something new from him.

And he was willing to answer.

Ha-Yoon had once joked that he had the stubbornness of a king, but now, as he pushed his body beyond its limits, he wondered if stubbornness alone would be enough.

From a distance, he heard Ha-Yoon laughing—her voice light, effortless, as she helped the village children with their schoolwork. For her, this life had become a temporary chapter, something to adapt to and embrace. For Joon Ha, it was a battlefield.

"You're pushing too hard," she told him one evening, watching as he wrapped his hands after another brutal training session.

Joon Ha shook his head. "I can't afford to be weak."

Ha-Yoon sighed. "Being strong doesn’t mean destroying yourself."

Before he could respond, an unexpected visitor arrived—the old hermit who had been watching them from afar. His gaze settled on Joon Ha, unreadable but piercing.

"You wish to rebuild, but have you learned to endure?" the hermit asked.

"I’ve endured more than you can imagine," Joon Ha replied, his voice firm.

The old man nodded. "Then prove it."

He gestured for Joon Ha to follow, leading him to a clearing where a massive tree stood, its roots deep, its trunk thick with scars of time.

"Strike it," the hermit instructed.

Joon Ha frowned but obeyed. He drove his fist against the bark, the impact jolting up his arm. Again, and again, he struck, ignoring the sting, the numbness that crept into his fingers.

"Good," the hermit murmured. "Now, push against it."

Confused, Joon Ha pressed his palms against the tree and pushed with all his strength. But the tree did not move. Not even an inch.

The hermit chuckled. "You see? No matter how strong you think you are, there are forces that will not yield. Strength is not in how hard you hit but in how well you stand your ground."

Joon Ha stared at the tree, realization dawning upon him.

The lesson haunted him long after the hermit left.

That night, as he sat by the lake with Ha-Yoon, the wind carrying the scent of damp earth and pine, he finally admitted, "I don’t know if I’m strong enough."

Ha-Yoon glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "You are. You just don’t see it yet."

She reached out, placing a hand over his bruised knuckles.

"Strength isn’t just about fighting, Joon Ha. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to stop and when to endure."

The moonlight reflected in the water, casting a glow around them. He still had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long while, he felt something stir deep inside him—the will to rise again.

Shloka/श्लोक/절

उद्धरेदात्मनाऽऽत्मानं नात्मानमवसादयेत्।

आत्मैव ह्यात्मनो बन्धुरात्मैव रिपुरात्मनः॥

Uddhared ātmanā’ātmānaṁ nātmānam avasādayet।

Ātmaiva hyātmano bandhura-ātmaiva ripurātmanaḥ॥

우다레드 아뜨마나아뜨마남 나아뜨마남 아바사다예트।

아뜨마이바 햐아뜨마노 반두라아뜨마이바 리푸라아뜨마나하॥

"One must lift oneself by one’s own efforts and should never bring oneself down. For the self is its own friend, and the self is its own enemy."

"사람은 스스로를 향상시켜야 하며, 결코 자신을 좌절시켜서는 안 된다. 자기 자신이 가장 좋은 친구이자, 가장 큰 적이다."

Like Rama during his exile, Joon Ha learns that true strength is not about striking back but standing firm. The world may test him, but only he can decide whether to rise or fall.