“......”

I averted his gaze helplessly. Lowering my eyes, I let out a shallow, shaky breath. Not because I felt like crying, but because I felt sick. His blunt words sat heavy in my gut, too much to digest.

“Only having Chairman Jung arrested was the greatest leniency I could give.”

Yido’s tone was nothing but calm. Flat, factual, as though listing off details. Even his judgment—that fault did not lie with one man alone—sounded oddly gentle in its monotony.

“...Abuse, you say.”

That was all I managed to murmur. I tried to tug my lips upward, but the effort faded before it could become a smile. A ringing hum filled my ears, forcing me to swallow dryly to relieve the dull pressure.

“If it was unpleasant to hear, I apologize.”

He even offered such an apology without hesitation. At the word unpleasant, a dry laugh finally broke from me. Should I really define this feeling as mere discomfort? The thought alone felt absurd.

“...No.”

I answered slowly, blinking through blurred eyes. My blood felt cold, my heartbeat sluggish. The air was so still it cut into my lungs like blades.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

I felt stripped bare. As though every shame had been exposed, as though a secret I could never let slip had been dragged into the light. Humiliation, mingled with disgrace, weighed heavy.

“And it’s not as though you’re wrong.”

I had never been ignorant of it. That my role was grotesque. Father was the perpetrator, Minjae his accomplice, while Mother and Seoyoung had been nothing more than bystanders. Willing or not, none had refused to cooperate.

“You’re right, Mr. Kwon.”

But if asked whether I was the victim, I would want to say no. I had been given a warm bed, good meals, a prestigious education and position others envied. With parts of me fulfilled, perhaps my words were nothing but the complaints of the well-fed.

“That isn’t a family.”

The words came flat, mechanical, my eyes still lowered. My mind felt empty, but my lips moved on their own.

“But...”

“......”

“...Why didn’t you just pretend not to know.”

If blame was pointless, I should have held my tongue. But once the words slipped out, I couldn’t stop them. Was it resentment, or frustration? The emotions surged, nameless and overwhelming.

“Most people don’t want to hear things like that from someone else.”

Was it pride I’d lost, or dignity? Or maybe it was just shame. I felt so small, so trivial, as though I had dwindled into nothing.

“You know me well.”

“......”

“My tastes, my diet, my constitution, my heat cycle... and now even my family history.”

I raised my eyes to meet his. Though food still remained on the table, neither of us touched it. A hollow laugh escaped me as I spoke.

“Then you should have known how I would feel.”

That dreamlike promise—that he would stand by me no matter what. I could still recall, vividly, Yido kissing my hand. Was he already preparing for this ending even then? Were his thoughts elsewhere even in that sweet moment?

“Mr. Kwon.”

He didn’t react to my call. He only blinked, eyes still locked with mine. Gazing into that darkness, I spoke quietly.

“I’ll do as promised.”

If I didn’t choose him, I would be alone again. This was the only answer left to me. Having lost my family, all I had left was Kwon Yido. Better to stay in the nest he had made for me than return to that empty officetel.

“After all... it was bound to happen eventually.”

“......”

“And I still owe you the perfume.”

The words, tacked on like excuses, felt pathetic. And once I handed him the perfume—then what? What direction had our so-called engagement, once nothing more than a contract, begun to take?

“...I didn’t mean to make you uneasy.”

He didn’t seem pleased by my answer. His eyes were quiet, his voice low, tinged with something bitter as I looked up at him.

“My method was wrong again.”

“......”

Again. He said his method was wrong again. The dissonance prickled me, but before I could respond, he suddenly stood.

“Finish your meal. I still have work.”

Rude, perhaps, but I felt relieved. Today, more than any other day, sitting across from him was unbearable. I had no intention of eating further, but at least the conversation was over.

“I’ll leave my room open. If you can’t sleep, use it.”

With that, he left the kitchen. The untouched food remained pristine, left behind. I sat dazed for a long while, only rising once his pheromones had fully faded from the air.

Later that night, I went out into the garden and stood in the rain. The downpour that had lasted all day had given way to a fine drizzle, soaking me silently. The damp air, thick with the scent of grass, cleared my tangled head.

Anyone who saw would have thought me mad. My body grew steadily colder until I shivered, but with no one there to stop me, I had no reason to resist.

I stood and stood, letting the rain drench me head to toe, until I looked no better than a drowned rat. Foolishly wishing I might dissolve into the water, vanish into the earth as nourishment.

Shamelessly, after a shower, I went to Yido’s room. I had a feeling that falling asleep like this would bring terrible dreams. Thankfully, he wasn’t inside. Only his pheromones lingered thick in the air, welcoming me. Drifting into that dense haze, I must have fallen asleep.

***

Even when the world feels like it’s collapsing, time passes indifferently. When a day ends, the sun sets. When you sleep, the sun rises. The days ticked forward as always.

Perhaps because I had stood in the rain so long, I caught a slight cold. Nothing severe, but a lingering low fever and persistent cough clung to me. Though I knew I should see a doctor, I kept putting it off with excuses of being busy.

During the endless monsoon, news of Father came several times a day. I didn’t even need to seek it out—it was the hottest topic of the moment. My name cropped up occasionally too, but since I had already quit, I was unaffected.

Meanwhile, I went to work every day without fail, preparing for the launch of “Sejin.” Lately, I had been focused on developing new products, sourcing fragrance oils from Lee Heena’s workshop. I liked the quality of the natural oils, and thought perhaps it would give Lee Taeseong, worn down by endless errands, at least a small joy.

“Director, will you be going to the academy again today?”

“Yes, please.”

After work, I always stopped by the academy for perfumery lessons. To earn certification, I had to complete the full curriculum. Originally group classes, I had paid extra for private sessions.

“...Shouldn’t you rest a little?”

Taeseong studied my face uneasily. My coughing in the middle of conversation must not have reassured him. When I apologized in case I might infect him, his expression turned even more incredulous.

“I don’t catch colds.”

They say only fools don’t. I almost teased him but decided not to. Then, bluntly, he said:

“They say even dogs don’t catch summer colds.”

“...Did you just call me a dog?”

“......”

“Wow, not even denying it.”

It didn’t offend me—it just left me speechless enough to laugh. He genuinely seemed unable to grasp that I’d caught a cold.

“It’s from the rain. I don’t usually get sick either.”

“Why would someone who’s always in a car be out in the rain?”

“There were... circumstances.”

Instead of explaining, I just waved him off, signaling him to focus on the changing light and keep driving. He shifted gears silently and set the car smoothly in motion.

“Take some medicine before it worsens. Ms. Lee said perfumers need to be especially careful with colds.”

“...You two talk outside of me?”

I hadn’t heard that from her. When I asked, he pressed his lips shut. That uncharacteristic silence was answer enough.

“I appreciate it, but I am taking medicine.”

Plenty of people worried over my cold, not just Taeseong. Of course, most of that eight-tenths was Yido.

“Take your medicine regularly. I had them leave out the drowsy kind, just in case.”

Even after that strained conversation, Yido and I ate together every day. It was easier than I expected, less awkward than I feared. Life settled into its quiet rhythm again, just as when I first entered his house.

“If you keep getting sick, it’ll be serious...”

Yido fussed as though I were terminally ill. What was so dangerous about a cold? He even dragged me into his own bed to keep me from sleeping alone, worried it might worsen. I didn’t mind—it let me sleep soundly—but his behavior embarrassed me at times.

“Maybe you should take some time off.”

He not only gave me my medicine each day, he brushed my forehead gently at night. Though my body was mostly fine, he even tried to escort me to and from work himself.

“It’ll pass quickly.”

“It hasn’t, that’s the problem.”

Truthfully, I didn’t mind. His warmth dissolved the vague anxiety I carried. The emptiness left by losing everything was softened by his gentleness.

“...Maybe it’s from not sleeping well.”

The reason my cold lingered was obvious. My insomnia, bad to begin with, had worsened. I had once slept soundly under his pheromones; now, without them, I could hardly sleep. When I did, I woke easily, or startled awake as if seized by fits.

There was only one reason: my family returned in my dreams. One night Father, one night Minjae, another night Mother and Seoyoung. In dreams, they ignored me, looked past me. Later, they stood in crowds, pointing accusing fingers.

That, I could endure. But when Yido appeared at the end, I could not.

“I must be insane...”

He always looked at me with cold eyes. He never pointed, but his gaze cut sharper than any blow. The disdain in his face, as though I were trash on the street, hurt worse than all the others’ scorn.

It was only a dream, yet it felt like swallowing needles. I could neither spit it out nor digest it, only curl in pain, waiting for judgment. Moving even slightly made the ache worse; all I could do was hold still and stifle my breath.

And then the fear came. Fear that the one person in my daily life might turn his back. I dreaded the empty bed, enough that I instinctively sought Yido’s presence.

I had forgotten, but that was a terrifying sensation. The memory of not belonging anywhere left me achingly lonely. To lose direction was hollow enough; layered with that sorrow, it was crushing.

Yido noticed my change quickly. After a few nightmares, he never left my side while I slept. And when he gave me his warmth directly, I could finally rest deeply.

Even if it was only temporary.

***

“You’ll be late tonight?”

Returning home from the academy, I found the house empty. A well-timed call was the only word from him.

—Sorry. Something came up. I’ll be back before you sleep, so eat dinner first.

“......”

He was a busy man. This was hardly unusual. And it wasn’t like last time, coming home near dawn. If he returned before I slept, it wasn’t late at all. I, too, might one day keep him waiting.

“...How late?”

Yet I felt an unexplainable pang of disappointment. Knowing it couldn’t be helped didn’t keep my chest from tightening. I didn’t even understand myself.

—Maybe an hour or two more.

Was it shock? To realize how much I had grown used to him. Pretending to stay for the sake of our promise, when really, I was the one clinging to him.

—How’s the cold?

“Much better.”

I forced down the itch in my throat, swallowing hard before a cough could escape. After a brief silence, his familiar low voice offered a farewell.

—Rest well.

The line clicked off. I lowered the phone, staring at the name saved as Kwon Yido. Today, it felt strangely new.

Dinner without him was dull, like watching a boring movie. The sweet broth of the bulgogi was fine, the crisp lotus root suited me perfectly. But the milk pudding topped with blueberry purée, after two bites, I pushed away.

So instead, to pass the time until his return, I decided to soak in the tub. A staff member offered to draw the bath, but I politely declined and sat on the bathroom ledge, waiting as it filled. The rush of water sounded like the monsoon outside.

I skipped the bath salts. Carelessly shedding my clothes on the floor, I slid into the tub. The water was just right. Submerging up to my neck, the tension eased.

“......”

I tilted my head back, gazing blankly upward. Through the clear windowpane, the rainy sky spread above. Droplets bounced, then slid down weakly together. Watching them, oddly, was # Nоvеlight # addicting.

After a long while, I closed my eyes and slipped further down. I submerged completely, head and all, holding my breath for a long time. Cut off from the world, only the muffled water sounds reached my ears.

If I could, I would stay there. Let time stop, unchanging. Though to drown in a bathtub would be a pitiful end.

How long I stayed, I didn’t know. At last, gasping, I rose, wiped my face with one hand, and inhaled deeply. And in turning my head carelessly, my eyes met another’s—squarely.

“......”

“......”

It was Yido. His expression one of shock, his eyes trembling, his face rigid. I didn’t know when he had come home, or how long he had stood there. Without time for me to ask, he spoke, voice low.

“I called... but you didn’t answer.”

His voice sank, followed by a small sigh. Though I was the one submerged, he looked like the one suffocating. After a moment’s pause, he murmured an apology and turned to leave.

“...You’re just going to go?”

Leaning an arm on the tub’s edge, I asked softly. Water dripped from my hair, sliding down my face. Droplets clung to my lashes before rolling down my cheeks.

“You’re here anyway... why not come in?”