“Thank you for your hard work!”

“Great job today, Director!”

“Get home safe!”

The noisy voices rang through the night air. The sky was pitch black, with only the moon hanging alone to light the world. The chill of the night made me pull my coat collar close as I smiled.

“You worked hard today.”

The employees bowed their heads in farewell before scattering, each heading for a taxi. At first they had been awkward at the barbecue place, but by now they were comfortable. I overheard faint snatches of conversation—how good the meat had been, how well the drinks had gone down, what they should eat next time.

“You waited a long time.”

“Not at all.”

I approached Mr. Kim, who was waiting by the car. As he opened the door for me, I slid into the back seat. The heater must have been on in advance, because the interior was warm. Loosening my tie, I let go of my coat collar, and from the driver’s seat Mr. Kim spoke.

“I’ll wake you when we arrive if you want to nap.”

He had always done that, every time we rode together. I hadn’t realized it before, but now I knew it was a kind of weary tenderness, the way a parent might look at a child coming home from work. Even though he himself lived much the same kind of day as I did.

“No, I’ll sleep when I get home.”

I answered slowly, resting my head against the window. The glass, cold from the outside air, felt like it held the chill of the night itself.

“The doctor said if you can, try not to doze like that.”

Mr. Kim didn’t reply, only started the car. Soon the engine’s low hum filled the quiet.

“......”

The glittering city lights passed beyond the window. I closed and opened my eyes, seeing the glass clouded with faint condensation. Before long, as the weather grew colder, “Sejin” would need to release its Christmas-season winter collection.

Time moved so quickly. I had been feeling that more often lately. Summer had vanished without a trace, green leaves giving way to autumn colors, and the ice cream carts on the street replaced by fish-shaped pastry stands.

It was autumn, the threshold of winter. Already three months had passed since I had left Yido’s house. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

***

'I liked you very much.'

It had been three months since I said that last confession. In that time, much had changed, much had stayed the same, and still there were parts I couldn’t change. Like the sleeping pills I still took at night, or the company I worked at.

I had left every belonging behind at his house, but the one thing I hadn’t abandoned was “Sejin.” Yido had arranged it for me, but it was my refuge, my foundation. I couldn’t bring myself to walk away from the employees I had come to care for and the projects I had built with my own hands.

Fortunate, perhaps, that “Sejin” was already entirely mine. Yido was nothing more than an investor. Judging from how he had transferred every share to me, it showed how meticulous his work had been.

'The Executive Director said to follow your instructions, Representative.'

Lee Taeseong had become my full-time employee. He had said if I turned him down, he would return to his old post as team leader, but clearly he couldn’t stand the thought. He seemed to believe Yido and I had separated, and when I asked him to stay on as my bodyguard, relief had crossed his face.

'...Could I at least have weekends off?'

And as for Lee Heena—the relationship front was, well, smooth enough.

'Congratulations, Sejin. Now you really can call yourself a perfumer.'

Those three months had been endlessly busy. My greatest achievement was earning a higher-level perfumer’s certification. Heena said it would be enough to get me hired at any decent company, though that didn’t matter to me. With the product development team’s help, I had made several perfumes, some still in development.

'Are you really all right?'

And still, even amid those days, the same endless concern. I had tried to live as though nothing had changed, but apparently it didn’t look that way. Mr. Kim, Lee Taeseong, Team Leader Choi, even Assistant Manager Yoon had all asked after me.

'It just seems like... you’re pushing yourself more.'

It would be a lie to say I felt nothing. The moment I drifted into thought, I would remember dying, and Yido’s face at the very end. I knew it was all past, but sometimes the hollow emptiness devoured me whole.

'Mr. Jung, please come in.'

So I started seeing a psychiatrist. I’d learned about it from a subordinate’s story—his wife was being treated for postpartum depression—and I found that therapy really could help. With counseling and medication, even mental illness could pass like a cold.

It had taken time to find the right doctor. Someone who didn’t pity too easily, who wasn’t too talkative, who held just the right distance. Someone who didn’t pry too much but could still suggest real solutions.

Thankfully, after about four tries, I found one. A small private clinic, with a doctor surnamed Shim. For a moment I thought to ask if she knew Professor Shim at Seonho Hospital, but decided against it.

'Most problems during sleep can improve by treating the quality of sleep itself.'

Things had gotten better, though I still dreamed often. Insomnia hadn’t disappeared, but I no longer chewed down sleeping pills in handfuls. The antidepressants left me drowsy and slightly high, which wasn’t so bad.

'You’re making steady progress; you’ll recover quickly.'

Everyone had some deficiency, and depending on how you filled it, things changed. Three months was short, but it was enough time for small changes. Sometimes I thought of giving everything up, but then I remembered the pain of dying and decided this was better.

Life wasn’t so bad. No, it was fine. Better than before, more stable, slowly settling.

Once I gave up belonging somewhere, I realized I already belonged to many places. I was the head of “Sejin,” my employees’ boss, a patient at the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) hospital, Heena’s business partner. I hadn’t fulfilled my very first wish, but I would fulfill many others. That was enough.

“Wow, what’s going on here.”

The day after the company dinner, I arrived late to work. The office had a strangely restless atmosphere. Only half the staff were present, and those greeted me warmly and spoke up at once.

“Representative, did you see this? Seonho Group’s dissolving?”

They showed me an article announcing the disbanding of Seonho’s Strategic Planning Division. After recent large-scale restructuring, their moves had been unusual. It wasn’t news to me, but it shocked the staff.

“Won’t their stock drop?”

“No, not over something like this.”

“Right, Seonho never fails.”

The chatter didn’t stop. I slipped away at the right moment. Seonho’s dissolution—news the press would shout about. But as everyone knew, their size wouldn’t really shrink. Their subsidiaries would grow larger, standing taller in the end.

And most of those would end up in Yido’s hands.

'I’m stepping down as Vice President.'

Not long ago, as foreshadowed, Kwon Ikyung resigned from the post. With Kwon Sangmi taking her father’s place as Chairman, the next likely Vice Chairman was Yido. Whatever deal he had made with Ikyung, he had also acquired considerable shares in the trading company.

Did he fight knowing the future? I wondered, but dismissed it quickly. Yido wouldn’t have acted much differently in the past either. Of course, after I was dragged back to his house, I knew nothing of what happened in the business world.

“I’ll brief your schedule now.”

Mr. Kim gave me a concise rundown. Nothing in the morning, but at lunch, a meeting with investors. The venue was Uiseondang, a Seonho-affiliated traditional restaurant. Naturally, the counterpart would be from Seonho.

“You won’t need to return to the office afterward.”

I would decide depending on time. If it ended early, I’d go back and keep working on my perfume project.

“Thank you. You can go.”

Mr. Kim bowed and left. I tapped the desk with my pen. It wasn’t my first Seonho meeting, but today felt strange. No—more precisely, the mood I felt wasn’t mine. It was someone else’s.

“Quite a fuss this morning.”

From the moment I opened my eyes, I had felt Yido. We had parted, but the imprint bound us still. Like now, when his restless emotions swept into me. Sometimes the raw ache of his sorrow spilled straight into me.

I realized the problem of the imprint the very next day after leaving his house. After a whole day tidying the officetel and finally sleeping, I woke drowned in inexplicable grief. An endless darkness had washed into my chest.

“......”

It was Yido’s feeling. When I had wept over the card, I’d been confused, but that day’s emotion had been his, not mine.

This was my second imprint, but I hadn’t known emotions could transmit like this. The first day, I had been bewildered. By the second, every detail of his state was plain. That he was grieving. That his mood was terrible. That he was in agony, on the verge of death.

At first... I think I had felt a kind of grim satisfaction. That this perfect man, in the end, regretted losing me. That selfish thought gave me a shallow comfort.

But only to a point. If I felt him this clearly, he felt me too. Shouldn’t he at least have tried to control himself, then?

“What could be so hard....”

I was slowly putting myself back together, but he was falling apart. What I thought would pass in days only grew worse with months. It was as if he were taking even the sorrow I had managed to lay down.

'Now you can do anything.'

I thought of it often. If he meant to hold me, he should have. If he meant to free me, he shouldn’t have. He should have clung to me to the end, then sought redemption by staying by my side.

If he meant to provoke me, he had succeeded. But if he meant to stir pity, he failed. Not for a single moment did I pity him. Not because I hated him, but because I understood too well to dare feel pity.

“...Haa.”

I let out a long sigh and shook my head. They said any thought, if dwelled on long enough, turned into worry. Before it went that far, I needed to cut it off.

'I really loved you.'

“......”

I set down my pen and leaned back. Beyond the wide glass, the traffic flowed. My heart still beat irregularly, his emotions still pouring into me. I could ignore it if I kept busy, but now I let it be.

I pressed a hand to my chest, stilled my breath, leaned my forehead to the window. The glass was cold against my skin. My face was hot—I realized only then.

'Sejin-ah.'

The pounding beat was clear. Maybe his influence, but not wholly. Emotions could transmit, but not a heartbeat. Half of this was mine.

“...Kwon Yido.”

The name slipped out, knotting in my chest. The name felt strangely foreign, like the time I had called him before dying. Three months since I had let go of his hand. Three months since I had last seen him. Three months since I had spoken his name.

I had to admit it. Sometimes, I missed him too.

***

As I kept working on the perfume, the morning slipped by. With one project just completed, the employees enjoyed rare leisure. After yesterday’s dinner, everyone had come late, so lunchtime arrived quickly.

I handed out cards to the staff before leaving for Uiseondang. I used to pay with Yido’s card, but now it came out of my own pocket. I could have left them to manage their own meals, but the habit was ingrained.

“Mr. Jung, this way please.”

Uiseondang was a wide hanok, with a main building for regular guests and a separate annex for VIPs. Only Seoul and Jeju had locations, with few reservations accepted daily.

“I’ll bring tea first.”

The server in hanbok withdrew, sliding the paper door shut. Ten minutes remained until the appointment. The other party would arrive soon. I fiddled with my watch, smoothed my tie and jacket.

Then, suddenly, I felt an anticipation that wasn’t mine. I frowned faintly.

“......”

Something good must have happened.

That morning his mood had been bleak, but now Yido seemed better. At least he no longer felt like he might collapse in tears. For the first time in months. Which only sank my own mood.

Well... yes. It was about time. He couldn’t keep pining for me forever.

“Excuse me.”

The server’s voice came from outside. I adjusted my expression and took a deep breath. When the tea came, I’d drink and settle myself. I answered, “Yes,” just as the door began to slide open.

My heart dropped like a stone. What was this feeling? I couldn’t count the times I questioned it in that brief instant. If I felt this much, then for Yido, daily life must be impossible.

The scent of wood filled the air. A heavy, subtle fragrance spread into each breath. My sharpened senses drank in every particle. And at last, through the wide-open door, a familiar face appeared.

“......”

“......”

I knew I should rise, but I couldn’t move. Caught in the haze of a dream, I sat frozen. My whole body was flooded with a heartbeat I couldn’t tell as mine or his. I even forgot to blink.

“...Ah.”

It was Kwon Yido, after three long months. Hair neatly brushed back, dressed perfectly as always. Even the trench coat over his suit looked like something out of a magazine. Gaunt-faced, he looked straight at me.

And with sunken eyes that seemed on the verge of tears, he blinked quietly.