Why would anyone look at someone they’ve just met with such wistful eyes?

Ever since I met Kwon Yido, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His lowered gaze, the faint smile at the corners of his mouth, the occasional brush of pheromones—all of it flickered before my eyes endlessly.

Kwon Yido was strange. He had cold hands, just as he looked, and yet he would occasionally wear a gentle expression. He acted so high and mighty with my father, then immediately helped me out when I was in a bind. Was that kindness or calculation? It was hard to pin down after just a day.

So I turned that uncertainty into a kind of dream and spent the night going over the past day again and again. In place of the sleeping pills that had long since run out, the memory lingering in my chest blurred the boundary between dream and reality. I never fell asleep in the end, but it was still a far better dawn than any nightmare.

“Seonho Group says they’ll be sending a car.”

The next morning. Mr. Kim showed up as soon as it got light out and reported the news with a strangely worn-out face. The dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday made it clear he’d taken the brunt of my father’s temper last night.

“You’ve had a rough time.”

“......”

Every time, I couldn’t help but think Mr. Kim was something else. Not a single complaint as he quietly packed my things.

“Is there anything else you’d like to bring?”

“No, that’s everything.”

One small suitcase was enough for what I needed at Kwon Yido’s house. Anything else could be handled by staff, and after all, this was what he’d told me last:

‘We’ll prepare everything necessary for Mr. Jung Sejin’s living arrangements.’

He said it like it was no big deal. Even added, kindly:

‘You could come with nothing at all, and it’d be fine.’

Well, I suppose he’d thought it through if he was asking me to move in on such short notice.

“There’s nothing here I’d be sorry to leave behind...”

I’d lived here for nine years, but I didn’t have much. A few academic books I never threw out, some novels. Even the clothes hanging neatly in the dressing room weren’t things I felt particularly attached to.

“I’ll deliver the sleeping pills along with the flowers later this evening.”

The lily of the valley I got from Kwon Yido—Mr. Kim said he’d preserve it to last longer. Something like applying desiccants and encasing it in a glass dome. I thought he’d just put it in water, but it was surprisingly elaborate.

“When is the car supposed to arrive?”

“Any moment now.”

“Then I guess we should head down.”

After making sure I had the engagement ring, I left the house before Mr. Kim. I wasn’t planning on returning anytime soon, but I didn’t feel any particular regret. Mr. Kim followed me into the elevator a moment later, silent.

The hum of the elevator moving was always strangely disorienting. Like time had stopped. Like being cut off from the world. As I stood there, dazed, focusing on the mechanical sound, a careful voice spoke.

“Director.”

Well, I’m not a director anymore.

“Go ahead.”

“Is there anyone you’d like to see before you go?”

“Hmm...”

I gave a low hum and slipped my hand into my coat pocket. Mr. Kim knew full well how narrow my social circle was. It was a roundabout way of asking if I really wasn’t going to say goodbye to the family.

“You’re the only one I needed to see, Mr. Kim.”

I said it jokingly, but I meant it. If no one was going to see me off, I’d rather leave without a word. It wasn’t like I was disappearing forever. There was no need to make a spectacle of it.

“It’s not like I’m being sold off.”

At that, he shut his mouth, clearly caught off ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) guard. He didn’t even try to deny it, probably because he couldn’t bring himself to lie. That, too, was very Mr. Kim. I ended up adding something I didn’t need to.

“You know how it is.”

“......”

“Best to avoid what can be avoided.”

I knew exactly what kind of conversation was waiting, and I didn’t feel like walking into it on my own. I just wanted this day to pass quietly. Even I couldn’t always be okay. I’d done all I was supposed to—Mr. Kim would have to understand.

“...I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

Ding. The elevator arrived at the first floor. I stepped out first and rubbed my sore eyelids. Maybe I should’ve dressed a bit more formally. I always wore suits, so being without a tie felt oddly uncomfortable.

The outside air still carried a chill. It had been warm yesterday, but I guess this was the fickleness of spring. I was glad I’d worn a coat. Just as I lifted my head with that thought, I suddenly locked eyes with someone.

“......”

“......”

For a second, my face twisted. So much for hoping today would pass quietly. It was like hearing my one small wish shatter into pieces. Mr. Kim, who clearly hadn’t expected this either, spoke in a stunned voice.

“...Sir?”

“Hey, Jung Sejin!”

Minjae took off his sunglasses and strode over to me. His hair was a mess, and his clothes were unusually plain. Judging by the sports car parked haphazardly behind him, he must’ve driven himself here. The crooked parking made it obvious—Minjae’s doing. But why had he come all this way, when he didn’t even have a license?

“You little shit...”

He looked me up and down, eyes burning with fury, lips pressed together hard enough to draw blood. I knew that look well—it meant he was seriously pissed off.

“What is it?”

“......”

Instead of answering, Minjae just glared. His sharp, foxlike eyes—just like our mother’s—narrowed with anger.

“...Are you seriously going to that bastard’s house right now?”

That bastard was probably referring to Kwon Yido. Not exactly the most polite way to refer to someone even Father used honorifics with.

“I was on my way. Why?”

“You’re seriously... What, are you asking because you don’t know?”

“I’m asking because I don’t know. What’s the problem?”

I pulled out my phone to check if he’d tried to call. Nothing. No missed calls, no messages. Minjae glanced between the suitcase and me, his voice sharp.

“Ungrateful asshole.”

“...What?”

That was out of nowhere. And especially not something I expected from Minjae. I blinked in disbelief as he snapped again.

“You’re really just going to leave without saying goodbye to your family?”

Family? I couldn’t even ask the question aloud. Minjae ran his hands through his hair in agitation and raised his eyebrows.

“Even if not me or Seoyoung, you should at least say goodbye to our parents. How can you just leave without seeing Father? Don’t you know how hurt he is?”

“...Father said that? That he’s upset I didn’t say goodbye?”

“Jesus, do you really need him to say it for you to get it?”

He shouted, then turned his head sharply. His face was flushed. Clearly, even he realized how ridiculous he sounded. Mr. Kim knew the truth, too. Father wasn’t the type to be hurt over something like that.

“Anyway, as his son—”

“Minjae.”

I cut in quietly, covering my eyes with my left hand. Hoo. I let out a breath, trying to calm the turmoil in my stomach. Even I couldn’t always be okay. Why did he have to do this now?

“You should’ve come see me yesterday during the wait.”

Yesterday, I’d sat in the waiting room for over three hours. No one came to see me—only Mr. Kim brought food and checked in. The little bottle of perfume supposedly from Father—that was the only communication I got.

“You didn’t show up until the engagement was over. Why now?”

“......”

Minjae pressed his lips together and stared at the ring on my finger. He didn’t look angry—more like he felt wronged. He let out a sharp breath, then spoke with a strange, resolved look in his eyes.

“It’s because that bastard—”

Thunk. A car door closed.

It wasn’t even a loud sound, but Minjae went silent like he’d been slapped. The air went still. The sound of shoes on pavement echoed through the silence.

“......”

As if entranced, I looked up and saw someone stepping out of the car. That poised gait—I only knew one person who walked like that. At the end of my slowly drifting gaze stood a man adjusting his jacket.

“There you are.”

Just one sentence—but it was enough to change the mood completely. His dignified voice pierced the air, his presence carrying an undeniable weight.

“...Mr. Kwon Yido.”

He walked over unhurriedly and stopped directly in front of me. As if no one else existed, his pitch-black gaze bore into mine. Like a tree drenched in autumn rain, the heavy pheromones made my chest tighten.

“What brings you here...?”

“What do you mean, what brings me here?”

Kwon Yido tilted his head, as if the question made no sense. His precisely sculpted features looked unusually unreal today—even his blinking seemed strange in its elegance.

“I said I’d come pick you up.”

He replied lightly, then turned to glance at Mr. Kim. As if to ask, Didn’t you tell him? I answered instead.

“You said you’d send a car.”

I never imagined he’d come in person. He was a busy man. Sending someone to fetch me should’ve been enough. But apparently, that wasn’t how he saw it.

“I took that car. So technically, I did.”

“...Aren’t you busy?”

“I am.”

To prove it, he rolled up his sleeve and checked the watch on his wrist. The same model that had once become a trend just because he wore it.

“So I’d really like to be going...”

His drawn-out words stopped squarely on Minjae. Minjae flinched and stepped back, face contorting. Kwon Yido spoke in his low, unhurried voice—a proposal that was really a warning.

“Save the sibling chat for later.”

Was it on purpose? He looked down at Minjae with arrogant eyes, let out a quiet scoff, and curled his lips in a faint smirk.

“This is the kind of thing younger siblings should concede.”

Ah. So it was on purpose.

“...Mr. Kim, would you take Minjae home, please?”

I stepped between them, grabbing Kwon Yido’s arm. He glanced at my left hand and said nothing. Minjae’s face was burning red, like he’d been insulted.

“Minjae, let’s talk some other time.”

His fists were clenched tight—if we didn’t stop now, he’d explode. It was time to wrap this up.

“You don’t even have a Korean license, so don’t drive unless you have to. If something comes up, call me...”

I hesitated. Was it really right to say this? But the moment our eyes met, my mouth moved on its own.

“Tell Father I said goodbye.”

“......”

“I’m going now.”

This time, Minjae bowed his head, jaw clenched. The way his lips trembled—just a little—made him look almost pitiful.

***

Kwon Yido’s car was a private sedan with a partitioned backseat. Not the usual model—it had been customized.

He opened the door himself. As soon as I got in, he started flipping between documents and a tablet, taking calls now and then. He spoke in English without hesitation, assuming I wouldn’t understand. I debated whether to show him I could, then decided not to bother.

“Nice weather today.”

After a while, during his third call, he suddenly spoke to me. I had just been thinking the same thing, so I kept my gaze on the window and nodded.

“It is.”

It was a bright, dazzling day—too much so to blame my sore eyes on lack of sleep alone. The sky was blue, the clouds white. No sign of rain for a while.

“You didn’t sleep well?”

“...?”

I turned to look at him. As soon as our eyes met, he studied my face slowly, deliberately. Every time our eyes connected, I felt strangely exposed.

“You look tired. More than yesterday.”

“Ah...”

When had I gotten so careless with my expressions? I usually prided myself on not showing fatigue.

“I’m not tired... just didn’t sleep much.”

I forced my face to soften. Tried a faint smile for show. But Kwon Yido didn’t look away. He simply laid the documents on his lap and said in a flat tone,

“Let’s eat once we get home.”

Nothing strange about the sentence—except it sounded like he meant together.

“I figured you skipped breakfast, so I asked them to make something you’d like.”

“...Can I ask something? Will you be eating too?”

“......”

His neat brows furrowed. He looked oddly displeased, and I quickly added an excuse.

“I just... thought you said you were busy.”

“I have time to eat with you.”

His phone vibrated at the perfect moment. He excused himself and took the call, cutting it off in one curt sentence: tell the secretary—I’m busy.

“After we eat, try soaking in the tub and getting some sleep.”

“......”

“There are different bath salts prepared, so pick whichever scent you like.”

It was... strange. The way he glanced at the ring on my hand made my chest tighten.

“Thank you for the thought.”

Why was he being so kind?

Even if we were engaged, this was all just business. I was the one who had to impress. He had all the power. So why did it feel like he was the one trying to accommodate me?

“And...”

He hesitated slightly, looking off to the side. His expression was awkward—but when he spoke again, the words wiped all of that away.

“You don’t have to use honorifics with me.”

“...Excuse me?”

“We’re not in a business relationship. There’s no need to be formal.”

I almost asked Why aren’t we in a business relationship?

“...I’ll take my time with that.”

I knew it was a chance, and still, I answered reflexively. Instead of being glad he was treating me kindly, I found myself wondering why. I should’ve played along. But that wasn’t easy with him.

“...I’m just more comfortable using formal speech.”

It was a pitiful excuse, but Kwon Yido didn’t say anything. For a moment, I worried I’d offended him. But there was no displeasure on his face—if anything, he looked a little surprised.

“All right. Take your time.”

'Yeah... I don’t think I ever will.'

I barely swallowed the words.

“I’m sorry.”

A small crack appeared in his expression. He picked up his documents again and said quietly,

“You can take your time dropping honorifics, but stop apologizing.”

“......”

“I don’t like hearing apologies.”

Was that his way of saying Don’t give me reason to be apologized to? With his background, “I’m sorry” must’ve been a phrase he heard so often it lost meaning.

“There’s nothing you need to feel sorry for, Mr. Jung Sejin.”

His voice softened, wrapping around my ears like a warm breeze. Still steady, still composed—almost like it carried pheromones. It made my chest ache, so I turned to the window and changed the subject.

“...There’s a lot of traffic.”

It was a clumsy shift, but he didn’t call me out on it. He simply said we were almost there and told me to nap if I was tired. The car fell silent except for the soft sound of turning pages.

“......”

I wasn’t tired. But the quiet made me sleepy. As I blinked slowly, thoughts swirled through my head. Things like: Alpha pheromones are cozy... my heat cycle isn’t far off...

Then, a stray thought chased the sleep away.

Nothing important—just a mild sense of unease.

How did Kwon Yido know what kind of food I liked?