When spring comes, the first things to change are always the same. Like new shoots sprouting from barren ground, or flower buds blooming on desolate branches. The chill fades from the gentle breeze, and nights that used to come early begin to arrive later and later.

The engagement ceremony had taken place just as the cherry blossoms were beginning to bloom. You still needed a coat at night, and whenever the wind blew, it left a sting at the tip of your nose. The path I’d walked with Kwon Yido also remained in my memory as a slightly chilly experience.

A month and a half has passed since then. The season changed in the blink of an eye. In the garden, already radiant, new flowers I’d never seen before began to bloom one by one. The weather had grown warm enough to set a table in the garden and drink tea, without needing to visit the greenhouse anymore.

“The weather’s really warmed up.”

I said, gazing up through the greenhouse ceiling at the clear sky. The flower tea the servant brought today was iris tea, a transparent green like jade. It carried a faint, sweet scent, and when I took a sip, the taste wasn’t unpleasant.

Lee Taeseong glanced at me and replied flatly, “Yes, I suppose it has.”

He immediately fixed his gaze back on the book. Judging by how absorbed he was, it seemed this novel had captured his interest. I decided not to interrupt and reached for my tea instead, but then he abruptly lifted his head.

“...Does the protagonist die?”

“...”

A chuckle slipped out. I suppose it was an imprinting effect of sorts. Maybe the first book I lent him had been too intense. He asked the same question with a worried face every time he started a new one.

“They don’t die.”

I answered cleanly, and he let out a relieved sigh and lowered his head again. He really seemed to be immersing himself this time, so I went back to quietly staring up at the greenhouse ceiling. The clouds beyond the transparent glass looked endlessly peaceful.

'Useless piece of shit...'

“...”

Had it already been a week?

Time really does move fast in every sense. Humans are creatures of adaptation, and even a heart that once felt irreparable eventually learns to function again. Everything that seemed on the verge of collapse was, somehow, still intact.

'Don’t cry, Sejin.'

That day, after being slapped by my father, I returned and sobbed into Kwon Yido’s arms. I hadn’t cried like that even when I was a child. It was as if everything I’d been holding back poured out in a flood. Yido comforted me quietly, and once I stopped crying, he said just one thing.

'Why did you let it happen?'

His eyes had been filled with repressed emotions—concern, regret, maybe even faint anger. A kind of gentleness that was uniquely his.

It was a good thing I hadn’t handed him the USB. That thought crossed my mind, just for a moment. If I’d given him the materials and walked away, I wouldn't have had the strength to face him again.

'...Because I didn’t really want to have it.'

Even expressing emotion took energy, and I’d lived my whole life by turning away from the things that made me suffer. Whenever problems arose, I avoided them. I followed my father’s orders as obediently as I could.

'You were the one who told me to choose something I wanted.'

So this time, it had been my own choice—one I made for myself alone. Even if the result was devastating, it gave me a kind of resigned certainty. That even if I had handed over the files, I still wouldn’t have been accepted as his son.

'...So, did you choose something you wanted?'

What if I’d said I wanted a family? That was a desire I’d entertained at some point. People tend to cling to things they’ve never had, and for me, that one thing was all I ever wanted. But no matter what, I could never bring myself to ask it of him.

'Well... for now, I’d like to spend some time with you, Mr. Kwon.'

When I said that, half in jest, he fell silent. He lowered his gaze slightly and brushed his fingers over my swollen cheek. Then his lips touched mine—light as a feather, careful and soft.

I think we just spent the day like usual. Had dinner together, talked in his room, then I returned to mine and fell asleep without sleeping pills. I liked the peace he brought me, so I didn’t even bring up what had happened with my father.

'Let’s start with an MRI.'

And the next morning, as soon as it was bright, he took me to the hospital. I said it wasn’t necessary, but his insistence was so firm I couldn’t argue. When I voiced concern about rumors spreading, he simply declared that he’d make sure everyone kept their mouths shut.

At Seonho Hospital, a sickeningly friendly doctor diagnosed me with a perforated eardrum. Kwon Yido’s expression turned frighteningly grim, but eardrums heal better than you’d think. At first, I kept hearing ringing, but within a few days, my hearing returned to normal.

The real problem was the vivid red and purple bruises all along the side of my face.

'...Wow, that’s bad.'

When I saw myself in the mirror for the first time, I was shocked at how much worse it looked than I’d expected. My left cheek was so swollen it was bulging, and burst capillaries left it blotched and discolored. The inside of my mouth was torn to shreds, so it wasn’t surprising the outside was a mess too.

'What happened to your face?'

On the way to the greenhouse, Lee Taeseong saw me and asked, visibly alarmed. Most people would’ve hesitated at least a little, but his bluntness was very much in character. I gave a casual reply.

'I fell on the pavement.'

'...'

I still remember the look he gave me. Did he seriously believe that? His expression was incredulous enough to make me wonder. After a moment of silence, he spoke again in a very neutral tone.

'You should’ve been more careful.'

Right. I should have. What the hell gave me the confidence to act so boldly?

'I’ll be more careful next time.'

When I answered calmly, Lee Taeseong frowned. Then, as if something occurred to him, he asked quietly,

'...What happened to the pavement?'

It was an oddly poetic question. He knew full well that “pavement” meant a person.

'What do you think happened? It’s still pavement.'

Getting slapped probably meant nothing to my father. With no one to tell, the moment the bruise fades, it’ll be like it never happened. I wasn’t even angry. I didn’t feel anything anymore.

'...And your fiancé just let that happen?'

Lee Taeseong frowned in disbelief. The question felt completely out of nowhere, so I tilted my head and asked what he meant.

'Why would Mr. Kwon get involved?'

'Well...'

He began to speak but immediately shut his mouth, realizing he'd slipped up. He shook his head quickly and ended the conversation.

'Never mind.'

I was curious about what he’d been about to say, but I didn’t press him. Anything related to that man was uncomfortable for me too.

In any case, after that, I carried on with my days like normal. I read books in the greenhouse in the mornings, took light walks in the garden in the afternoons. Kwon Yido’s library was vast—enough that I wouldn’t run out of books even if I stayed here for years.

The only thing that had changed was that Kwon Yido had suddenly become unusually busy.

'I’ll probably be late for a while.'

We used to always eat dinner together, but now I barely saw his face. He left before I woke up, and came back after I was asleep. Sometimes I’d step out into the hallway in the middle of the night, only to see the lights still on in his second-floor study.

I wasn’t exactly hurt. Just... a little empty.

Come to think of it, our relationship had always been ambiguous. We were engaged, but it was all just a contract. Still, we’d slept together—and yet neither of us had ever spoken our feelings aloud.

It wasn’t that I doubted his feelings. I wasn’t oblivious to the affection he showed me. And I wasn’t stupid enough to mistake my own emotions for something else either.

“Mr. Lee Taeseong.”

“Yes?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“...Excuse me?”

At my question, Lee Taeseong looked up like he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes held a hint of hurt, so I shrugged slightly to make it clear he shouldn’t misunderstand.

“Just curious. I figured someone like you would probably be popular.”

It was lip service, but not a total lie. His expression was a bit stiff, but Lee Taeseong was objectively attractive. Broad shoulders, tall frame—he looked the part of a bodyguard. I was sure he got plenty of attention.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

If I’d upset him, I planned to apologize. I’d only asked out of idle curiosity, and it wasn’t like I needed a response. But then he replied in his usual blunt tone.

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

Judging by his expression, it didn’t seem like he was opposed to the idea of dating. I was just about to change the subject when he asked, with a sigh laced in his voice,

“Why ask something like that out of the blue?”

“...No reason.”

I tapped the edge of my teacup with my fingers. The tea still retained its warmth and shimmered with a blend of sky blue and teal. Narrowing my eyes, I looked down at the ring on my left hand.

“Since you’re guarding me every day, I figured you wouldn’t have time for dating.”

As much as Yido was working weekends, Taeseong had been guarding me without rest. All I really did was read, but it still wasn’t the same as having free time. Giving a whole day to a partner must’ve been difficult.

“I just thought... if you were seeing someone, maybe they’d feel neglected.”

I’d never been in a relationship, so I didn’t know how to handle being with someone who was always busy. I didn’t know how much longing was okay to show, or how much interference was acceptable. I wasn’t thinking of doing that with Kwon Yido. It was just a vague thought I had, on my own.

“You just have to make sure they don’t feel that way.”

Lee Taeseong said this with a bold voice. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he added,

“Dating is about making time for each other.”

He wasn’t wrong. It was just so textbook it felt detached. But the words that followed were unexpectedly self-deprecating.

“And if it doesn’t work out, you break up...”

“...”

Maybe he’d broken up with someone recently. He really wasn’t good at hiding things. His face made it painfully clear—especially with that bitter expression.

“You’ve dated a lot, huh?”

“I’ve had my share.”

He answered calmly, and I didn’t ask anything more. There wasn’t anything else I wanted to know. Honestly, this counted as a friendly day, considering we usually just read in silence.

The sweet scent of iris tea lingered gently at the tip of my nose. As I skimmed through the last pages of the book, one final question occurred to me. If he didn’t want to answer, I wasn’t going to push.

“...By the way, Mr. Lee—how old are you?”

***

Next to the bed on the nightstand sat a lily of the valley enclosed in a glass dome. The flowers had been neatly gathered and stood upright on a small pedestal, their stems wrapped delicately with a white ribbon. It looked like the lid could be removed, but I didn’t try opening it. I was afraid I might damage something.

I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the perfume bottle placed beside it. Every time I brushed against the dangling cubic beads, the fabric petals attached to the bottle swayed gently. I hadn’t used it since spraying it on Kwon Yido, so the contents inside remained untouched.

On impulse, I uncapped the bottle and sprayed the perfume into the air. The mist floated like fog and carried a scent similar to roses, though lighter—something more like grass. If I left it alone, the smell would likely settle into something faint and natural over time.

“Is he going to be late again today...?”

It was already close to dinnertime. Kwon Yido hadn’t contacted me, but I figured I’d be eating alone again tonight. He usually sent a message saying he’d be late, but if he was especially busy, it was possible he simply forgot.

Maybe I should call him.

That thought made me reach for my phone and search for his number almost unconsciously. I hesitated, wondering if I was bothering someone who was clearly busy, but by the time I thought it through, I’d already hit the call button. Before I even heard the dialing tone at my ear, a familiar voice answered.

—...Jung Sejin?

“...”

All he did was say my name, and yet, inexplicably, my heart skipped. I felt a rush of relief and—at the same time—a faint pang of guilt, as if my silent resentment had been caught. While I took a moment to collect myself, another line came through from the other end.

—Hello?

“Ah... Yes, I’m here.”

Every time I talked to him on the phone, I noticed it. His voice always sounded slightly different than it did in person. Both were pleasant to hear, but over the phone, it was a little lower, more subdued.

For some reason, his tone now carried a trace of amusement as he spoke gently.

—You’re the one who called, Sejin. You should say something.

“...”

—Did something happen?

“No... nothing happened.”

Why did I feel so strange? We always talked like this, but today I couldn’t seem to settle down.

“Were you looking at your phone?”

—Yeah. I was just about to call you, actually.

So it wasn’t that he forgot because he was busy. He had been planning to call. That probably meant he was going to be late again today.

“...”

—...

For a moment, neither of us said anything. I took a shallow breath, and it carried the scent of the perfume Kwon Yido had given me. It lingered faintly in the air—so faint that it seemed it might vanish without a trace at any moment.

—What were you doing, Sejin?

“Oh, me... same as usual.”

He always asked what I’d been doing, even though my days at home were predictably uneventful. At first, he used to ask if I was busy, ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) but after I laughed at him for it, he started phrasing it differently.

—If it’s the usual... then you went to the greenhouse earlier, and now you’re in your room?

“...”

He barely spent any time at home, yet somehow, he knew my routines so well. I found myself glancing around the room for no reason. Then, Yido asked again, casually:

—Did you have tea with Chief Lee again today?

What had he said before? Something about disliking the idea of me sharing a space with someone else that he himself had never shared. That was why he’d gone so far as to have lighting installed in the greenhouse—but in the end, we’d never gone there together even once.

“Did you know Mr. Lee is the same age as me?”

Rather than answering his question, I changed the subject naturally. It reminded me of the answer Taeseong had given earlier when I’d asked how old he was.

'Twenty-nine.'

I hadn’t expected us to be the same age. I thought he was at least a year or two older. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one. Kwon Yido replied with a slightly incredulous tone.

—Chief Lee isn’t even thirty yet?

“...”

Pfft. I laughed. Even Kwon Yido, who didn’t even know Lee Taeseong’s name, had the same reaction as I did. I felt a little bad for him, but really, with that build, no one would peg him for someone in his twenties.

“...Mr. Kwon Yido.”

—Yes.

I spoke slowly, running my fingers along the edge of the blanket. I’d just been laughing, and yet suddenly, my mood shifted again. The thought that once I hung up, it would be another day before I’d hear his voice again. It felt strange that we lived in the same house, and yet I hadn’t seen even a strand of his hair in days.

“You’ve been coming home late lately.”

I said it casually, with no special intention behind it. I wasn’t hoping for a particular response. It was just the truth. I was curious about how busy he really was, but I had no desire to interrogate him about it.

Then, after a long silence, his low voice came through the phone.

—...I’m coming now.

Click.

The call ended. It happened before I could even think to stop him, before I could call his name. Silence fell over the room like a curtain, and it was only after a moment that I fully grasped what he’d said.

I stared blankly at the phone screen, which now displayed nothing but the duration of our call.