“......”

There were things I wanted to ask. Like why he’d told me to quit being division head in the first place. Wasn’t it because, as his spouse, he wanted me to stay at home?

“...The name?”

But instead of asking any of that, I chose another question. I gave him a small push, and this time Kwon Yido sat up without resistance. In his eyes, so close to mine, something flickered.

“For that business. It must have a name.”

A deep smile spread across his lips, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. Then, slowly, his mouth formed each familiar letter.

“S, E, J, I, N.”

“......”

“Sejin.”

Our gazes met with a blink. His eyes, their thin double-lidded lines curved in a soft arc. In that dignified voice of his, he spoke sweetly.

“It’s the perfume label CEO Jung Sejin will be launching.”

“...Huh.”

So much for “just try it for a while.” So much for “only until you get the license.”

Not content with material gifts, he was now offering me a company. For someone who had only just begun learning perfumery, it was an absurdly excessive gift. While I sat there, struck speechless, he added, as if it were nothing—

“If you don’t like the label, you can change it once you start working.”

“...Yido.”

“I’m not saying you have to start making perfume right away. You’re more familiar with the management side, after all.”

My head was too full to answer immediately. He seemed to know it, smiling leisurely as he asked—

“How much should I give you?”

“......”

“Time to think... No, more precisely, time to prepare yourself.”

By “prepare,” he clearly meant “prepare to accept.” Not the right to choose, but a brief postponement before the inevitable.

Sure enough, he declared it with the authority of a judge passing sentence.

“I’ll give you a week.”

***

Someone once called marriage the grave of life. Technically, I’d only gotten engaged, but it was true I’d half given up on certain things about the future. Yet since moving into his home, the things he asked of me had been oddly future-oriented.

First he’d asked what I wanted. Then he’d asked what I wanted to do. He’d given me a greenhouse, tea, perfume—and now, a company. These weren’t just “material” tokens to please a fiancé; they were gifts I couldn’t explain with such a simple word.

Why was he doing all this for me? At first, Yido had told me to accept everything he gave until he got what he wanted from me. More recently, he’d said it was to win my favor. But no reason he offered seemed a sufficient explanation for the generosity he showed.

And of course, the thing I understood least was how, at some point, I’d begun to accept it all naturally despite the sense of strangeness.

'I’ll give you a week.'

That week passed in the blink of an eye. During it, he didn’t miss a single dinner with me. At night, as always, we talked; and when our eyes met, we ended up in bed again, over and over. Naturally, I hadn’t touched a sleeping pill once.

'...Do you drive around with Team Leader Lee in the passenger seat?'

He’d been pleased when I told him I was driving the car he’d given me, but his expression shifted slightly when he heard I drove it myself. Not upset—just faintly amused when I said I wanted to drive my own gift.

'I’ll have to give you another car, then.'

...I’d decided to pretend I hadn’t heard that last part.

Lee Taeseong, for his part, had stood at the workshop entrance every single day, hands clasped behind his back. Lee Heena always invited him to sit, but he’d only repeat that he was fine this way. I thought he might relax halfway through, like he had in the greenhouse, but he stayed stone-faced.

“Today’s your last class.”

And so, my time at the workshop ended. Two weeks wasn’t long, but it had been enough to get a clear taste of a perfumer’s work. I’d originally thought of it like a one-day class—so really, this was more time than expected.

“This’ll be your last homework check too.”

Setting down my notebook, Heena brought out some prepared items: several scent strips and a container of coffee beans. As I looked over the simple materials, she handed me a paper and pencil, asking me to rank the strips in order of preference.

“You said you liked woody fragrances, right?”

“Ah... yes, that’s right.”

Today we were going to make the fragrance I’d described on my first day. It wasn’t truly “making” it—I’d just be combining pre-made oils—but still.

'Do you have a scent you’d like to make?'

On that first day, I’d answered without much thought: something with a heavy, woody note. Because someone had come to mind. Not that either Heena or Taeseong would have guessed that.

“Try to pick the ones that smell most similar.”

Of course, none of these materials could come close to imitating Yido’s pheromones. Pheromones weren’t “scent” to begin with, and even the best of these wouldn’t touch the edges of his. Still, it was disappointing. Then again, I wasn’t a real perfumer.

I sniffed each strip and chose the ones I liked, clearing my nose with coffee beans when I started to lose sensitivity. That was one of the things Heena had taught me over the last two weeks.

She selected the proportions and types, explaining what kind of impression each combination would give. Calm and gentle as she was, her eyes always turned sharp when talking about work.

Mixing the oils on the scale was more fun than I’d expected. I followed her demonstration carefully, combining each ingredient with care. Only when I’d finished did she ask, lightly—

“You’re going to work in this field, right?”

“...What?”

I looked up without thinking. The corners of her eyes tilted, her lips curling in a pleasant smile.

“I mean... you seem really suited for it. It’s hard to find something that suits you.”

She nodded toward the beaker on the scale. From it rose the unrefined strength of the blend. Fetching an empty bottle, she continued in a casual tone.

“Last time I let it slide, but honestly, I thought you were preparing to change jobs.”

When was that? The second class? She’d asked why I was taking perfume lessons and whether quitting as division head was for that reason. I hadn’t given a clear answer—so her assumption wasn’t strange.

“I only taught you this seriously because I thought you were going to work in it...”

“......”

“Was I wrong?”

Her tone was teasing again, as if to say there was no pressure. I let out a soft, narrow laugh and lowered my gaze.

“That’s not why I came...”

A few weeks in a workshop didn’t qualify me for the profession. It had started as a hobby, and even now I wasn’t set on becoming a perfumer.

“It was just for the experience. And besides... it feels a bit late to start something for real.”

That last part was something I’d been turning over in my mind. I wasn’t old, objectively—but trying something new now felt strange. More than that, I’d never really lived with the future in mind, so wanting something felt unfamiliar.

“Aren’t you still twenty-nine?”

She looked at me with round eyes. I wondered how she knew, but then remembered anyone could find my birth year online. I didn’t deny it, and she gave me a lopsided smile.

“At that age, you can do anything.”

“Haha...”

It was a cliché. She must have known, because she laughed with me—though her next words carried no trace of a joke.

“Last year, my aunt had surgery.”

Her quiet voice started the story. She glanced aside, as if recalling it.

“She had complications afterward... got tired easily and couldn’t do physical work.”

“...That must be hard.”

“Yeah. She’s older now, so we all worried about how she’d manage.”

It must have been serious. But Heena added that her aunt had fully recovered.

“Recently she started studying again. She qualifies for a disabled applicants’ track for the civil service exam. If she works for about ten years, she can retire with a pension.”

She must be a determined person, I thought. Ten years from retirement put her around my father’s age; starting something new then wouldn’t be easy.

“And what I thought when I heard that...”

She narrowed her brows slightly. I expected her to say something like “It’s never too late” or “You can do anything at that age.” But instead, she said, with a bemused face—

“Wow, there’s still so much life left to live.”

“......”

I blinked. She actually looked a little horrified, shoulders giving a little shake.

“I like my work, but the thought of doing it for decades more is a bit daunting. We’re going to live three times as long as we already have—how do we know if what we’re doing now will mean anything?”

She winked playfully. She wasn’t wrong—but what stuck with me most was that part about three times as long.

“It’s less about being early or late, and more about thinking it’s okay to spend a few years on something pointless.”

“...Pointless?”

I laughed, startled. I had no good answer for that blunt term. She softened her expression, lowering her voice.

“If you get the chance, try it for a few years. You really do seem to work harder than anyone I’ve met.”

That was the end of her story. She poured the perfume from the beaker into the bottle, capped it, and set it on the table. She showed me different label designs and let me choose one.

“You can start using it after about two weeks of aging.”

The square glass bottle bore the name “Jung Sejin.” I’d have given it another name, but nothing came to mind. As I held it, feeling a bit sentimental, her gentle voice gave me a final farewell.

“You’ve worked hard, Sejin.”

***

After lunch at home, I spent a little time in the greenhouse, looking at the flowers. They lifted my mood like always. The lighting I’d installed there was still waiting for the day I’d need it—but that day never seemed to come.

Yido came home as usual, around dinner. Smiling when he saw me waiting at the door, he went upstairs to shower before joining me at the table, now laden with a full spread: tangpyeongchae, chili shrimp, salad with yuzu dressing, and small side dishes.

Halfway through the meal, he spoke evenly—the question I’d been expecting all week.

“Have you thought about it?”

No subject needed. The deadline was up, and he knew it. I set my spoon down and met his eyes.

“I’m going to get the license.”

I’d thought about it here and there over the past few days. It wasn’t a huge thing, but starting something new made me uneasy. Still, after long thought—and his answer—I had no reason to delay.

“And the company...”

“......”

“I guess parachutes aren’t so bad.”

His lips curved gently. I smiled back out of habit.

“When else would I be called CEO?”

If I couldn’t refuse, it was easier to accept with grace—for me, and for him.

“Good decision.”

He seemed pleased. The warm light in his eyes said as much. But I wasn’t done.

“There’s one condition.”

“Condition?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to go on. The corners of his mouth were easy and relaxed. I spoke with all the seriousness of a negotiation.

“Since I’d feel bad just taking, I want you to tell me one thing you want.”

Put together, everything I’d received from him was more than I could ever repay. Even if he ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ said it was freely given, it felt burdensome. If the material things had once felt only cumbersome, now there was a bit of gratitude mixed in.

“I want to do something for you too.”

“Something I want...”

For a moment, his eyes dropped. Sometimes this always-confident man would look strangely fragile in front of me. Only for a heartbeat, but enough to notice.

“If it’s something I can do, anything’s fine. A gift, or... whatever.”

“......”

“...Even my body.”

I’d tacked it on as a joke, but the look he gave me was genuinely tempted. I wondered if I should clarify—but then he gave a short laugh.

“If you gave me your body, you’d be the one at a loss.”

His tone was serious enough to leave me no opening for a comeback. Slowly blinking, he spoke softly.

“I want a perfume that smells like your pheromones.”

I opened my eyes wide. The request, in that smooth voice, was almost too romantic. He smiled faintly, tilting his chin with his usual elegance.

“I don’t care how long it takes. If you need funding, tell me. If you have other requirements, I’ll meet them.”

It almost sounded less like he was telling me what he wanted and more like what he’d do for me. For him to go that far, just to have a scent like mine... I blinked at him, and he added easily—

“No one but you can do it. You and I are the only ones who know your scent.”

“...That’s true.”

Because of my malformed pheromone gland, my scent only came out during heat. Aside from me, the only one who’d ever sensed it was Yido. My doctor was a Beta, as were my family.

“This way, you’ll feel the deal is worth it.”

I let out a dry laugh. Trust him to use an opportunity like a true businessman. I’d probably have to stay CEO until that perfume was made.

“Your answer?”

I thought of saying I couldn’t—but decided against it. I’d made the offer; it wouldn’t be right to start making excuses. So I just narrowed my eyes in mock defeat.

“It’ll take a long time.”

“The longer, the better.”

Brazen as ever, he didn’t bat an eye. He even held out his pinky, asking for a promise. The table between us kept me from hooking it, though.

“I’ll be looking forward to it. The perfume you make.”

That familiar, confident smile left its mark on my chest. It was a promise without a deadline, but one I had to keep.

The perfume I would make in the company he’d given me, a perfume that smelled like my pheromones. This was the moment “Sejin” became a provisional reality.