Fourteen years old. Five years after being adopted by my father, right around the time I entered middle school.

By then, I was already well known as Chairman Jung Cheol-ho’s adopted son. From the moment I enrolled, I had to endure all kinds of attention. Not just from my fellow students, but even from the teachers who would be responsible for me. Of course, it wasn’t simply because I was “the adopted son of a chaebol family.”

'They say he’s a dominant omega.'

Nationwide, the ratio of alphas and omegas was barely around three percent. The vast majority of those were recessive, and dominants made up only another three percent of that. It wasn’t a percentage you could expect to encounter in everyday life, so it was only natural that people found me intriguing.

'He really is different from normal people.'

“Different from normal people”—I heard that phrase at least three times a day without exaggeration. When I gave the entrance speech as the representative of the new students, when I somehow ended up as temporary class president at the start of the semester, and when the grades from the first midterm came out.

'I’m jealous. I wish I had a special trait too.'

Everything I accomplished through my own effort inevitably got reinterpreted as something I’d earned only because of my special trait. And to be fair, it wasn’t an entirely baseless assumption—science had already proven that those with special traits had far superior genes compared to betas. But the problem was that the expectations that came with it meant the standards for me were that much stricter.

If I did well, it was “because you’re an omega,” and if I made a mistake, I’d hear, “So special traits aren’t that great after all.” In the end, I was still just another human being with two eyes, one nose, one mouth, but people looked at me like I was some alien they’d never seen before.

'What’s so great about him anyway?'

I knew even then that there were a few kids who didn’t look at me kindly. There was no outright bullying, but I still had to deal with small acts of pettiness a few times. In the end, those little frictions disappeared with time.

'He probably doesn’t have to worry about his future.'

Even after moving on to high school, the “Haesin Financial Group” and “dominant omega” labels trailed after me like shadows. My university, my future career—those things were treated as foregone conclusions, openly stamped on me. Without ever having the time to think about my own future, I was pushed along the path my father had paved.

But unlike what people envied, the future waiting for me wasn’t so beautiful. The position my father had prepared for me was nothing more than a foundation stone for Haesin’s prosperity. My opinions and choices were never part of the plan.

And so, at twenty-nine, I married Kwon Yido. The only dream I’d ever privately harbored since I was very young was to become a perfumer.

Not that I’d ever seriously believed I could achieve it.

“...A perfume workshop?”

It was a few days after the foundation day ceremony. Morning, as usual. Over breakfast, Kwon Yido suddenly asked me if I might want to attend a perfume workshop.

“Yes. You said you wanted to try making perfume.”

He answered matter-of-factly, looking at me. Today, as always, he was impeccably dressed, hair neatly slicked back. The perfectly knotted tie might have looked stifling on someone else, but on him it lent a restrained, almost ascetic air.

“Ah... that time...”

I narrowed my brows, recalling a day when we’d had a similar conversation—when he’d taken me out in the car he’d bought me, and we’d looked over the night view of the Han River.

'Do you have something you want to do, Sejin?'

He’d asked if there was anything I wanted to do. When I’d deflected and asked if he was giving me a week to think, he’d suggested making perfume. I’d stayed silent, but he’d probably known that my silence was an implicit yes.

“There’s a good perfumer I know. I heard they do something like a one-day class at the workshop. If you’re willing, I think it would be good for you to try it out as an experience.”

Hadn’t he once said, if you want to do something, you should do it? I guess it hadn’t been an empty remark. In fact, I couldn’t think of anything he’d said to me that he hadn’t followed through on.

“...What terrible thing are you planning to do later, to be buttering me up like this...”

I couldn’t help but laugh. His attention to detail reminded me of his earlier words about wanting to win my favor. When I’d first come to this house, he’d said he wanted something from me. Maybe this was in line with that—asking me to take his side.

“It sounds fun.”

I said it with a faint smile, and his expression shifted subtly. He set his chopsticks down, lowering his lashes.

“This is the first time you’ve accepted one of my suggestions without an argument.”

“...”

Had I really refused him that often? Well, it couldn’t be helped—most of his suggestions carried a kind of unwelcome weight. Accepting all of them would feel like overeating until I couldn’t digest a bite.

“...It’s something I’m interested in, after all.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

He lightened his tone, as if it had been half a joke, and added gently:

“If you want, you can go today. But you’ll go with Team Leader Lee.”

Was it really necessary to take Lee Taeseong along? It felt like overprotection, but he tilted his head slightly.

“It’s not surveillance. It’s security.”

“....”

I frowned faintly. He didn’t seem to be joking.

“...What I said that time was a slip of the tongue.”

“Well, I don’t believe in ‘words you don’t mean.’”

So he could hold a grudge—how unlike him. That I’d once told him to just put CCTV in if he wanted to watch me, and that he remembered it now... I looked away awkwardly, and his low voice came again.

“Anyway, don’t feel pressured. It’s open to the public, so they’ll explain everything in detail. You might even enjoy it.”

“Mm...”

It was an appealing offer, but there were still small things holding me back. Not out of guilt toward him—more like the way I sometimes hesitated when an opportunity was laid out too neatly in front of me.

“Can I think about it for a day?”

Not that it required serious deliberation. It was something I was genuinely interested in, and since it wasn’t material, there was nothing troublesome about accepting. Like he’d said, I wasn’t a prisoner here.

“Of course. I gave you a week before, so a day is nothing.”

Fortunately, he agreed easily—probably guessing that I’d say yes. We continued our meal without bringing it up again.

After breakfast, I saw him to the door. Before leaving, he checked his watch and made a small sound of surprise. Then he looked back at me.

“Hye-yul will be coming next week.”

“Hye-yul...?”

The name wasn’t unfamiliar. The name of the art museum owned by the Seonho Foundation, and the daughter of Yido’s sister Kwon Ikyung. One of the few female alphas I’d met, and the child I’d seen at the engagement party wrestling with a steak as big as her face.

“Your niece, then?”

She was still young, but hardly someone I could treat lightly. I used honorifics out of habit, and he smiled faintly, amused.

“You can just call her Hye-yul. She comes once a month to look at paintings—it’s about time again.”

By paintings, he probably meant the works by famous artists he occasionally bought. Pieces worth tens of billions of won, purchased less as a hobby and more for tax purposes. My father did the same—buying them without even knowing what they were.

“Does she like art?”

“Must’ve gotten an eye for it from her father.”

Her father, Shin Dae-woong, was the director of the Hye-yul Museum, owned by the Seonho Foundation. He’d graduated from an art college himself and was said to be well-versed in the arts. Apparently, he and Kwon Ikyung had met while attending an exhibition together.

“You must be close, if she comes every month.”

“Mm... normal, I guess.”

Normal—a word that seemed least suited to Yido. Then again, at the engagement party, she had called him “uncle” quite naturally. Unlike with Kwon Ijeong, it seemed the rest of the family really was as harmonious as they appeared.

“You don’t have to go out of your way. Just act like you usually do. If you’d rather not greet her, that’s fine too.”

“No... that would be rude.”

I appreciated the consideration, but I knew better. Even if we were secretly engaged, I couldn’t ignore a guest in the house.

“She’ll come while you’re at work?”

“Probably.”

“Then I hope she likes the greenhouse.”

I smiled lightly at him. I wasn’t going to leave a seven-year-old alone in this huge house. There would be staff with her, of course, but as an adult, I’d still feel a sense of responsibility.

“...Right, you said you liked children.”

He let out a soft laugh, lips curling faintly.

“Then I’ll ask you to keep her company that day. She won’t be any trouble.”

I’d already seen how composed she was at the engagement party—not a single whine through that long event. She’d probably been raised with strict manners.

“Working late again today?”

It was time for him to leave. He took his bag from the staff and winced apologetically.

“Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be late through the end of the week.”

Even after the foundation day ceremony, his busy schedule hadn’t changed. The only improvement was that we’d started having breakfast together again. I still had no idea when he came home at night—he’d simply appear in the morning, perfectly put together.

“Have a safe day.”

I glanced at the ring on his left hand as I saw him off. He reached toward me briefly, brushed his fingers along my cheek, then stepped away, looking faintly reluctant but making no other move to touch me.

“I’ll be back.”

No matter how many times I saw it, the sight of his back as he left didn’t feel familiar. There was always that faint sting in my chest when he turned away, and the heavy silence that fell when the door shut.

“....”

I touched the ring on my own finger. The engagement ring I’d started wearing again before the mark it left had even faded. On me, it left a deep impression; on him, there was nothing at all. Probably because, while he left the house wearing it, he spent the day outside without it.

“...Still can’t figure you out.”

It was clear he liked me, and yet there was a line I could feel. We’d gone as far as we could physically, yet he still hesitated to touch me sometimes. He kept our engagement secret, but didn’t seem to want to hide me entirely. And though he insisted I wasn’t being kept prisoner, he remained unshakably overprotective.

Of course, that overprotection had shone when I ran into Kwon Ijeong.

'There was a “Cleaning in Progress” sign posted.'

According to Lee Taeseong, the restroom where the incident happened seemed to be a place used for such purposes. As soon as Ijeong and I went in, staff blocked the entrance and stopped Lee from following. Left with no choice, he’d called Yido. Hearing that, I’d had to praise his quick thinking.

'Impressive. It can’t have been easy to contact your boss like that.'

'Not really. The Executive Director gave me his personal number for emergencies.'

This was why I called Yido’s behavior overprotective. At an event attended by people who all knew each other, what real emergency could there be? It had turned out there was one, but that must have been the last thing anyone expected.

'...What happened to the staff who stopped you?'

Instead of asking about Kwon Ijeong, I’d asked about them. It was instinct—because I had a feeling Yido wouldn’t have left it alone.

As expected, Lee answered without a change in expression.

'They were all fired.'

“....”

I wouldn’t call it pity. I had no desire to worry about the people who’d almost let something happen to me. It was just... a complicated feeling, realizing again how decisive he was.

“Haa.”

I let out a small sigh and turned away. It didn’t really matter. If thinking about it could give me an answer, it wouldn’t be something to worry over in the first place. Like everything else, I’d just let it flow past.

I only wanted this peace to last.

***

The days had gotten much warmer, but the greenhouse still kept a steady temperature. I’d worried we might not be able to use it in summer, but maybe it would be even more pleasant here then. At some point, imagining a future here had become natural—and the realization felt strangely new.

“The perfume workshop?”

“Yes. If I go, you’ll be coming with me as security.”

Today’s tea was a vivid red rose blossom tea. The floating petals made it as pleasing to the eye as it was fragrant. Even Lee seemed to be sipping and enjoying the scent now without much hesitation.

“Do I get a say in this?”

When I mentioned the workshop, he looked puzzled. I grinned and shrugged playfully.

“Of course not, but I thought I’d ask out of courtesy.”

“....”

He gave me a look like what kind of person says that? Since learning we were the same age, I’d felt more comfortable with him—dangerously so. Not that he’d ever been that hard to be around.

“And I was curious what you thought.”

“My opinion...?”

I toyed with my cup. The warmth seeped slowly into my fingertips, the rich rose scent blending perfectly with the floral air of the greenhouse.

“I just don’t think... perfume-making really suits me.”

“...What?”

His eyes widened, as if it made no sense.

“Do you have to ‘suit’ something to try it?”

“Well, no, but...”

My words trailed off. What was I hesitating for? Like he ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) said, it wasn’t as if you had to be suited for it to try. It wasn’t even a big commitment—just a light one-time experience.

“If anything... it suits you.”

His tone was still dubious. He looked between me and the teacup, one eyebrow pulling together sharply.

“‘Not suiting’ is what you say about me holding this cup.”

“....”

I laughed before I could stop myself—because in his broad, pot-lid-sized hands, the delicate cup looked so different from when Yido held it. Our hand sizes were similar, but the feel was completely different.

“Whether I’m here in the greenhouse or out somewhere, it’s all the same to me. If it’s more comfortable for you, that’s fine by me.”

A clear answer. I took a sip of tea and let my gaze drift to the book cover I’d left open. A French novel, dense with text—I still hadn’t finished it. Maybe if I kept at it today, I’d get to the final chapter.

“...Then maybe I’ll give it a try.”