“...What?”

“Who are you looking at?”

A murmured voice brushed my ear. I could feel Minjae’s wide eyes flicking back and forth between me and Kwon Yido. My mother and Seoyoung’s faces had gone pale. I let out a shallow breath and tore my gaze away from him.

“...”

It felt as if my heart was pounding in my ears. Heat flared at the nape of my neck, my chest burning as though I’d swallowed a lump of fire.

Maybe he hadn’t smiled at me at all. Maybe he’d just thought of something amusing, or noticed someone else entirely. But even so, was this giddy feeling just the result of growing too brazen around him over time?

It wasn’t long before he sat down as if nothing had happened. His sister, Kwon Ikyung, belatedly glanced my way, but she quickly lost interest. I swallowed dryly and lowered my head, but my racing heart refused to settle.

The anniversary ceremony proceeded according to the pre-announced order. The host recounted Seonho Group’s history, and Vice President Kwon Sangmi delivered a short greeting—a brief apology for Chairman Kwon Byung-wook’s absence and thanks to the honored guests—before moving on to an employee awards presentation. After the program concluded, there was a cutting of an enormous three-tier cake.

My father returned around the time the first half of the ceremony ended and a short break began. I looked up at the whiff of cigarette smoke, startled at the gauntness of his face. The hollows under his eyes were sunken, and he seemed to have lost a great deal of weight.

“...”

What could have happened in just two weeks? My father, who placed such importance on social appearances, had no reason to show up to an event like this with a face so clouded by worry.

Yet my mother and younger siblings seemed utterly unconcerned. My mother frowned briefly, but it lasted only a moment. Well, unlike me, who hadn’t seen him in a long while, they probably saw him every day at home.

“...”

So I kept my mouth shut. I should have asked if he was unwell, but the mood wasn’t one where I could approach him warmly. It felt like walking on a frozen lake—one wrong step and everything could shatter.

Through the entire second half, I soothed my tangled thoughts while watching him from the corner of my eye. He didn’t so much as glance at me, which only heightened my tension. Was he angry? Ignoring me? Or was it something else entirely? I couldn’t tell.

“Then please enjoy the food we’ve prepared and have a pleasant time.”

At last, the program ended and applause thundered through the hall. In a section of the banquet hall left open for it, chefs invited by Seonho Group had set out buffet-style dishes. There were rows of champagne flutes and finger foods, but most people ignored them, gathering instead in small groups.

“Sejin, come with me.”

It was the first time my father addressed me that day. His voice was low, but at least he didn’t sound angry. I straightened my jacket and followed him, feigning nonchalance. I didn’t know what he wanted to say, or what he needed from me, but in those few seconds, my mind raced through countless possibilities.

“Chairman, it’s been a while.”

But the moment my father smiled his business smile at someone, the situation became perfectly clear. The small cluster of three or four people were all faces I recognized well.

“Well, look who it is—Chairman Jung Cheol-ho!”

A wave of exhaustion drained me. The worries that had been swirling in my head vanished, replaced by nothing but helplessness and futility. I almost let out a hollow laugh, clenching my fist to stop it.

“Didn’t expect to see you here. And this must be that omega son you dote on so much?”

As always, it was time to play the good son. The only reason my father, who hadn’t even greeted me, brought me over was because my presence was convenient. It wasn’t to speak with me, or to bring up that day.

“His name was Jung... Jung what again?”

“...Jung Sejin.”

I offered a polite smile and a small bow. My mind had gone blank, but my body moved automatically, outputting the pre-programmed responses. I’d been trained in this routine from childhood; I knew exactly what was required of me.

“You’ve grown into a fine young man. How old are you this year?”

“I turned twenty-nine this year.”

A child raised well under a kind father—that was enough. Adopted, yes, but cheerful and seemingly full of love, I acted the part. When someone offered praise, I made sure to lower myself with modesty.

“About time you ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) got married. Or wait—since you’re an omega, should I say it’s about time you got a husband?”

Their laughter rang bright with amusement. My father patted my back affectionately, musing about who I’d marry. When someone remarked that a child of the heart was even more precious, I discreetly covered the faint ring mark still visible on my finger.

“Chairman Jung really is a good man.”

“Oh, no, not at all, Chairman.”

The emptiness surged again, an unfillable void. Just exchanging polite pleasantries and offering a few empty words in return was enough to make me feel spent.

'If you don’t want to attend, you can just say so.'

In the midst of the laughter and chatter, Kwon Yido’s words suddenly came back to me. It was long past, but the thought struck me now—if, back then, I’d said I truly didn’t want to attend... would Kwon Yido have set me free?

***

When people with agendas gather, they tend to circle around their real aims, trading endless updates and compliments before finally getting to the point. After an hour of such meaningless conversation, your mental energy inevitably starts to run dry.

“So this time I...”

He was supposedly the second son of a famous construction company chairman, but he couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me. Still, he could talk nearly as much as any chairman I’d met. His stories were nothing but boasts and empty details, and I’d already heard more gossip and scandal from him than I could count on both hands.

“That’s impressive. Not just anyone can do that.”

“Right? I knew you’d get it.”

My father had slipped away a while ago to smoke with the chairman he’d originally approached. He’d even offered me an imported cigar, but I’d politely declined and drifted off to chat with others.

“Ah, here’s my business card...”

The man pulled a card from his inner pocket and held it out. Usually, business cards came first, but he must have been too busy talking to remember. I’d received plenty of cards today already, but the problem was I had nothing to give back.

“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t have a card on me right now.”

Explaining that I’d left the company was something I’d done enough times for it to be tedious. I was equally tired of saying I’d resigned as division head “to study something else.” Still, I couldn’t just refuse a card outright, so I smiled and said,

“I’ll be sure to keep it and get in touch.”

Nine times out of ten, a card was just a courtesy. They probably had no intention of contacting me; at best, it was a way to put a name to my face. Remembering their affiliation and name was the most I needed to do.

After that, I collected two construction cards, three from the finance sector, and one each from reporters of the three major broadcasting networks. With my inner pocket now heavy, I rubbed my aching eyes and exhaled quietly. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and the endless small talk had drained me.

So I slipped back a step, seizing the moment when the man I’d been talking to turned to greet another group. I figured I could catch my breath—only to bump into someone passing behind me.

“...Ah.”

A damp sensation spread across my stomach. The person I’d collided with had spilled wine on me. The sweet, tart scent mixed with a sharp hit of alcohol reached my nose.

“Oh dear, look at this.”

The languid voice belonged to Kwon Ijeong, whom I’d run into in the restroom earlier. He held an empty wine glass in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket. He glanced between his hand and my stomach, winking an apologetic look.

“Your clothes are soaked. Are you all right?”

Why is he here?

“...Yes, I’m fine.”

I answered reflexively, subtly scanning the room. Kwon Yido was nowhere to be seen, but Kwon Sangmi and Kwon Ikyung were still at the front, chatting in a group. Which meant Kwon Ijeong should have been over there too.

“Too bad it’s wine—it’ll stain badly.”

He was right; a dark purple blot was blooming across my pale vest. Of all the drinks available, he had to choose wine over champagne. What rotten luck.

“Shall I at least pay for the cleaning?”

“No, it was my fault. Please don’t worry about it.”

I shook my head with a faint smile to reassure him. It wasn’t even clothes I’d bought myself, and making a fuss wouldn’t do me any good. My father would only call me incompetent, so I intended to smooth it over quietly.

Thankfully, aside from a few nearby, no one was paying us much attention. Everyone was busy with their own conversations, and Kwon Ijeong wasn’t exactly a high-value target for networking. Most of the ambitious types were already wagging their tails around Kwon Sangmi.

“Still, I can’t just leave it after ruining your clothes.”

But Kwon Ijeong clearly had no intention of letting it go. Setting his glass on a table, he suddenly took hold of my arm. My brows knit at the unexpected touch, and he smiled cheerfully.

“Let’s at least go to the restroom.”

“...”

He had to know water wouldn’t fix this. If anything, it would only make it worse.

“I really—”

“Mr. Jung Sejin, you should know better.”

My mouth snapped shut. Hearing my name from him shouldn’t have been strange, but the moment it left his lips, a chill crept down my spine.

“You can’t be rude to a guest who came all this way. Come on.”

The feeling was just like in the restroom earlier—a rejection that climbed from my toes up to the back of my neck, squeezing tight. When it felt like I’d run out of air, it poked at my chest in sharp jabs.

“...Then please just let go of this.”

“My hand?”

At my strained request, he released me as if it were nothing. I straightened my wrinkled jacket while he chuckled under his breath.

“So shy...”

Call it instinct, but something felt wrong. The way he kept trying to lead me off, pushing despite my refusal—it all looked like an attempt to create an excuse for something.

“Let’s go. Better deal with it before the stain sets.”

Even so, I had no choice but to follow. It wasn’t exactly a good time to leave, but better that than making a scene. At least my father was still out smoking.

As we left the hall, my eyes met Lee Taeseong’s by the entrance. His gaze shifted from my stained clothes to my face, his expression darkening. It was the look of someone silently calling me careless—but when he met my eyes, his look turned serious.

“...”

“...”

That fleeting glance held far too much to put into words. I only shrugged, but Taeseong’s sharp gaze darted between me and Kwon Ijeong. Unaware, Kwon Ijeong spoke lightly,

“Should I just book a room? We’re in a hotel—it’d be easier.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

Kwon Ijeong walked ahead, me trailing behind. His unhurried pace was similar to Kwon Yido’s, yet subtly different.

And a few paces farther back, Lee Taeseong followed us silently.

***

Kwon Ijeong headed for a restroom far from the banquet hall. Before I could ask why, he remarked that it’d be awkward if people saw. The nuance was unpleasant, but I pretended not to notice and let it pass.

“Don’t you think a room would be better?”

He asked that question more than five times without exaggeration. I didn’t know what answer he was looking for, but all I could say was, “I’m fine.” I had no intention of booking a hotel room over a ruined outfit, nor of doing anything that could be misconstrued with someone I’d just met.

“Stubborn, aren’t you? Though honestly, guys who look like you usually have the worst tempers.”

His voice carried a note of excitement, as if he were enjoying himself. I fought down the swell of unease and widened the gap between us, though he always seemed to urge me to keep up if I lagged even a little.

“...I think we’ve already passed two restrooms.”

“Hm? Oh, I’m headed for the one at the very end.”

He pointed toward a men’s restroom tucked in a corner of the lobby. It was late enough now that only a few staff lingered in the hall. Ignoring the greetings of those we passed, Kwon Ijeong stopped at the restroom door and spoke in a tone that was almost a command.

“Go in.”

“...”

I glanced around as subtly as I could. Even in a secluded spot, there were still staff moving about; I’d already made eye contact with at least two. And unless I was mistaken, Lee Taeseong couldn’t be far.

I took a breath to steady my pounding heart. The unease had been there from the moment I first saw Kwon Ijeong. There was no reason to feel such fear toward someone I’d just met—no reason a man would pose much threat to another man like this.

As we stepped inside, a strange noise came from outside—like a hard object clattering to the floor.

“Did you hear that?”

“Not really.”

He answered without missing a beat, his face utterly calm. I almost wondered if I’d imagined it. On high alert, I entered the restroom, only for Kwon Ijeong to block the entrance and jerk his chin.

“Start by taking off that jacket.”

I’d said it before—the tone was off. More than that, the look in his eyes was off. They raked over me as if appraising my value, different from my father’s gaze but no less unpleasant.

“...Director Kwon Ijeong.”

Instead of removing the jacket, I stepped back. I’d never intended to wash it anyway; the only reason I’d followed him was to avoid making a scene.

“As I said, I’m fine. And the stain won’t come out with water.”

“Well... of course I know that.”

He smiled warmly, nodding slowly. Then he began to approach. When I retreated another step, he loosened his tie with a short laugh.

“Why pretend to be naïve? You knew what you were coming for.”