Kwon Yido wasn’t saying anything, and yet just from the look in his eyes, I felt it. That if I let my guard down for even a moment, he might do something to me. A powerful instinct spread through every corner of me like a warning.

“Yes, I just... finished.”

I nodded while trying my best to look unfazed. Kwon Yido was watching me obsessively, as if he wouldn’t miss even the tiniest movement. His narrow, double-lidded eyes lengthened ever so slightly.

“I see. It looks like you did.”

His gaze dropped—eyes to nose, nose to lips, lips to chin—and finally slid down past the base of my neck. Even though I had fastened the robe tightly, it felt like I was completely exposed.

“Can I ask why you answered the door like that?”

The quiet question was so saturated with pheromones that even I, just standing still, flinched. At some point, his presence had started to seep into my body, clinging silently. A moment ago, the scent of the bath bomb had clouded my senses. Now it was his scent that filled my head.

“What do you mean, ‘like that’...”

I started to ask again, but I quickly realized what he meant. Why I answered the door in nothing but a bathrobe—something that, in the wrong light, could easily be seen as an invitation.

“I just... opened it right away. It wasn’t intentional or anything...”

My throat kept going dry. If I could, I’d have gulped down a full glass of water. But the only thing I could breathe in was his pheromones, so I exhaled shallowly and dropped my gaze.

What if he misunderstands?

It was unfair, but also understandable. After all, yesterday I’d gone into heat. He could very well think I was trying to seduce him, burned up and desperate.

“I don’t know what you were expecting... but I’m not going to give it to you, so act accordingly.”

Suddenly, a voice from my dream echoed inside my head. That cold back turning away from me—I remembered it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. I swallowed again and spoke in the calmest voice I could muster.

“I’ll go get changed.”

“...”

“If you just wait a moment—”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

Kwon Yido cut me off firmly. I lost hold of the doorknob I had grabbed to close the door when he took a step forward. He reached for it in my place, and showed a more relaxed expression.

“My joke went too far. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

Still, I couldn’t relax. His pheromones were pulled taut in the air like strings. He hadn’t so much as laid a finger on me, but I felt like he was touching me all over.

“I just came by for a moment, wondering if you were asleep. Now that I’ve seen you, you should rest. It’s late, so I’ll be heading back.”

With that, Kwon Yido closed the door without hesitation. I caught a glimpse of him exhaling as it slid shut. Until the moment the door clicked closed, I stood there frozen, barely breathing.

Click. The door shut completely. The whirl of pheromones around me cut off instantly. My tensed shoulders slumped, and I finally exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

“Ha.”

I collapsed to the floor, resting my forehead on my knees. My body had gone limp, and I couldn’t even lift a finger. The long hem of the robe reached below my knees, covering everything in just the right way.

“...I’m gonna lose my mind.”

The curse caught in my throat. I pressed my thighs tightly together, but it didn’t change anything. To make matters worse, the pheromones that hadn’t been released yet were boiling inside me.

I was hard. Like some horny teenager. I hadn’t even seen anything sexual. I was aroused just from Kwon Yido’s gaze and pheromones.

The dull throb low in my abdomen wasn’t a kind of desire I should be feeling after a heat cycle. After coming multiple times yesterday, I shouldn’t even be getting an erection. I definitely shouldn’t be reacting to alpha pheromones like this—not me.

“Ah...”

As if possessed, I lowered my hand and fumbled with the robe. The sash had loosened, making it easy to open. My hand trembled as I wrapped my fingers around myself, and a helpless moan escaped.

“...Ngh...”

What was I doing at this age—jerking off, using an alpha I’d barely known for a few days as the stimulus?

I curled in on myself and squeezed my eyes shut. My back twitched every time I stroked the long shaft. The alpha pheromones still lingering in the air heightened my sensitivity unbearably.

“Haah...”

Before I knew it, I was on my stomach, hand moving rhythmically. The sash had come completely undone, and the floor beneath my forehead was hard as hell. Each stroke made a wet, obscene sound as pre-cum coated my fingers.

“Hngh...”

Just a little more, and I’d come.

Was it only that easy yesterday because I was in heat? Even with my hand moving, something still felt lacking. Kwon Yido’s pheromones tingled deliciously at the edges—but didn’t tip me over.

“...Ah...”

Now even my rear was wet. Slick dribbled down the insides of my thighs. I pressed my legs together and moved faster, but still something was missing.

“Sejin.”

“...Hhk.”

Pathetic as it was, the moment I imagined Kwon Yido’s voice, the orgasm hit. The soft whisper brushing my ear—it felt so real, like he was right there, pushing me over the edge.

“You can go.”

“Ahh...”

The second that voice spoke, I came. The semen was thin and scant—no surprise, since I’d already come multiple times yesterday.

I lay on my side, gasping. The aftershocks of release made my hips tremble. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum.

But as soon as the rush passed, a wave of crushing shame followed.

“...Haa.”

How the hell was I supposed to look Kwon Yido in the face now? How was I going to step into that pheromone-filled bedroom every night? How was I supposed to sit across from him at breakfast after this?

“...”

The cum spattered on the floor made me feel like I’d pissed myself. I’d taken care of one need, but now I had another to face.

The part of me that still hadn’t gone soft. And whatever this guilt was, tangled up in Kwon Yido.

***

Despite all my worries, I woke up from a deep sleep just like always. No nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. I realized all over again that, yeah, Kwon Yido’s pheromones were better than any sleeping pill. The sense of calm I’d grown used to had already become impossible to undo.

Kwon Yido, unaware of what I’d done, ate breakfast as perfectly composed as ever. ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) It was Sunday, and yet he was going to work again. I almost asked if he ever took a day off, but stopped myself—too embarrassed by the fact that I’d been doing nothing but resting.

Breakfast was seaweed soup with tender slices of beef. The lightly seasoned broth paired perfectly with the fluffy white rice. Unlike yesterday, I ate steadily, and Kwon Yido commented in a calm tone:

“Korean food really is the best.”

He wasn’t looking at me, but at my half-empty bowl. Somehow, it felt like he was relieved I was eating well, which made me feel oddly self-conscious.

“Yeah, rice really is the best.”

I squinted a bit and tried to smile naturally. I was confident I could pretend nothing had happened. I would treat Kwon Yido the same as always. As long as I kept my mouth shut, he’d never know.

“So, was the bodyguard uncomfortable?”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice anything strange. He changed topics right away, which was proof enough. Unfortunately, that topic wasn’t exactly welcome either.

“Not uncomfortable, but... I still prefer being alone.”

“You’ll get used to it. I’ll tell him to stay out of sight as much as possible.”

“Don’t do that.”

What exactly did he think security was? Just because someone was invisible didn’t mean they weren’t there. Did he actually find that more comfortable? I didn’t ask, because I had the feeling he’d say yes.

“If it’s not working out, just let me know. It’s easy enough to switch him out.”

“That’s fine. I like him.”

“...”

Kwon Yido’s expression hardened at once. Something in his gaze darkened, though I couldn’t tell exactly what upset him. He picked up his water glass, face cold and unreadable.

“What do you like about him?”

“Well, various things...”

Were their hands the same size? Maybe Kwon Yido’s fingers were more tapered—that must’ve been why holding the glass looked different on him.

“He’s impressive. Not everyone becomes a team leader at that age.”

“...What are you talking about?”

I had only said what came to mind, but Kwon Yido’s face changed instantly. For a second I wondered if I’d said something wrong—but then the reason became clear with his next words.

“Director Jung Sejin.”

“...”

Ah, to think I’d hear that title again today.

“I’m not a director anymore.”

The title of director was never something I earned through merit. It was symbolic—meant to show the world that the company didn’t discriminate. I doubt my father ever had high hopes. Even if Kwon Yido hadn’t told me to quit, I probably would’ve stepped down under pressure sooner or later.

“You sound regretful. About giving it up.”

I looked him in the eye without saying anything. He took a sip of water, his Adam’s apple moving in a way that looked like a scene straight out of a carefully shot film.

“Not really. Just feels a little empty.”

I really wasn’t regretful. Just... hollow.

“Being director didn’t suit me anyway.”

I might’ve gotten the position through external pressure, but everything I accomplished in it was my own. The results I built with my own hands, the trust I earned from my colleagues, and even the upward curve in performance.

“I’m sure the new director will do well.”

Of course, that didn’t mean I wanted to go back. I just needed something new to fill the space left behind.

“I see.”

Just like when I told him about my condition, Kwon Yido nodded without saying more. If he’d shown pity, it might’ve felt condescending—but that dry, almost indifferent response actually felt like a kind of comfort.

“Then what kind of work do you think suits you, Mr. Jung?”

“....”

I had no idea why that question brought back a childhood dream I thought I’d long forgotten. The one I could barely remember, even on the day of the engagement.

“I’m not really sure... What about you, Executive Director Kwon? Do you like the work you do?”

I dodged and asked him instead, smoothly. Kwon Yido gave a dry chuckle. The kind of laugh that made it clear what he thought of my tactic.

“You don’t want to answer, I see.”

“...”

My face almost slipped. How the hell did he see through me so easily? Was he just that good at reading people?

“My aptitude, huh... I’ve never really thought about it. But if I had to say, being an executive director doesn’t suit me.”

“...I see.”

I echoed his words back at him. The fact that he answered seriously surprised me, but more than that, I was stunned that he thought his job didn’t suit him. From what I could tell, he seemed like a born businessman.

“Maybe vice president would suit me better.”

“...”

Or maybe I should’ve called him an ambitious man.

“What do you think is the core subsidiary of Seonho Group?”

It was an abrupt question, but one subsidiary came to mind immediately. Anyone familiar with Seonho would’ve answered the same.

“Seonho Trading, right?”

Seonho Group had too many subsidiaries to count. Seonho Trading, Seonho Electronics, Seonho Electric, Seonho Life Insurance, and related businesses like Myeongseong Hotel and the advertising firm Yuil Planning. There was also a kindergarten and art museum owned by the foundation—but the flagship was clearly Seonho Trading.

“Right. That’s what most people think. It has the most capital, after all.”

But Kwon Yido shook his head, as if to say I was wrong. His voice was flat, as if he were evaluating a breakfast menu.

“But if Seonho Group collapses, the first place that’ll become a battlefield is Seonho Trading. Once the power blocs split, Seonho Electronics will become the core business. And when that happens, I’ll naturally become the de facto head as vice president.”

It wasn’t a hard sentence to follow, but my brain was slow to process it. Because from the very first premise, it made no sense.

“...Why would Seonho Group collapse?” 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

No company is too big to fail—except maybe Seonho.

Among Korea’s conglomerates, Seonho was considered the strongest. If Seonho fell, the country would fall with it—it wasn’t just a joke, but a grim reflection of how tightly they held the economy.

And now he was saying that group would split apart?

“It’s not that surprising. Plenty of people have seen it coming. It’s even come up in internal discussions. The group’s gotten so big, and with the Chairman nearing the end of his life, splitting it up won’t be hard.”

“Wait. Mr. Kwon.”

I cut him off reflexively. I was too stunned to even think about whether I should. I looked at him, unable to hide my discomfort.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be hearing this.”

The “Chairman” he referred to was undoubtedly Kwon Byeonguk, the head of Seonho Group. He’d stepped away from public activities about two years ago and was said to be in long-term care.

There had been quiet rumors that he was nearing the end—but hearing it directly from his grandson, hearing “nearing death”, was different.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it...”

“Even if you’re not curious, Chairman Jung Cheolho will be.”

“...”

A dry laugh escaped me. Not because it was funny—because I had no rebuttal.

“You should have a gift for your father, don’t you think?”

“...You want me to tell him?”

“Well, that’s up to you.”

He said it ambiguously, but what he really meant was: yes, go tell him. That someday he would become vice president—that he had his reasons. Whatever gain he expected my father to give him in return, I had no idea.

Even if Chairman Kwon Byeonguk passed away and Vice President Kwon Sangmi took over, Kwon Yido still had two siblings ahead of him. His older brother, Kwon Ijeong, and his older sister, Kwon Ikyung, who certainly wouldn’t give up the vice president seat without a fight. It wasn’t going to be as simple as he made it sound.

“...I’ll pretend I didn’t hear any of it.”

Business was a game of information, but a blank slate was better than the wrong answer. It was safer to stay silent than to pass along something uncertain.

“You don’t fully trust me, I see.”

Kwon Yido stretched his lips in a mock-hurt pout. I didn’t feel guilty, because his expression was clearly a performance. The Kwon Yido I knew had already anticipated I wouldn’t pass it on.

“Then let’s stop with the boring aptitude talk and go back to the bodyguard. You like him?”

So that’s where this came from. We had been talking about Lee Taeseong. Maybe the tone had already turned weird back then.

“It’s not that I like him... just that there’s no need to change him.”

He was quiet, easy to handle—nothing that’d bother me long-term. He seemed uncomfortable around me, but I didn’t mind that. Or rather, it was probably that he couldn’t hide it.

“That’s good to hear. If you end up liking him more later, let me know.”

I nodded reflexively, then paused. Something felt off. I asked, “Why?” and Kwon Yido smirked, raising one corner of his mouth.

“Because then I’ll bring him back as a team leader. As a reward.”