“......”

“......”

We couldn’t speak for a long time. We simply looked at each other as if time had stopped. It probably wasn’t even that long, yet to me it felt like an eternity.

“......Why.”

Why are you here?

I couldn’t ask aloud because of the staff member who had come inside. The employee set the tea on the table and backed out of the room. Even after the door shut with a soft sound, the silence between us didn’t break.

“......”

What... is going on here.

This was not a place where Kwon Yido should have been. The meeting counterpart was from Seonho Group, yes, but not someone of his stature. There was no reason for him to appear in person for a simple investment meeting.

Clenching my fist tight, I studied him slowly. He seemed thinner than before, his features sharpened. His eyes looked deeper, his jawline running down to his neck stood out starkly.

It wasn’t a hallucination. The Kwon Yido before me was real. The slight tremor in his eyes, the faint quiver of his lashes, even the occasional blink of his lids—all of it was real.

“...Mr. Kwon Yido.”

Saying his name, I almost felt tears prick. Whether it was my own emotion or his, I couldn’t tell. If you’re going to sit there expressionless, at least look away. Why put on that face and pretend calm?

“Why... no, what brings you here?”

“......”

I forced myself to sound indifferent, but he didn’t answer. His lips parted faintly, then pressed shut again. His eyes lowered, filled with unbearable desolation.

“...I came for a meeting.”

His low, subdued voice was undeniably his. His tone hadn’t changed at all, though he looked somewhat tense, and the words that followed trembled slightly.

“With Jung Sejin... Representative-nim.”

That title, once tossed lightly in our teasing, had never felt so awkward. My heart kept racing, and amidst it I caught the clear fragrance of his pheromones. The warmth that filled my stomach was a kind I had only ever felt with Kwon Yido.

“A meeting....”

If this were truly a business meeting, then this wasn’t how it should look. I was seated while he lingered at the door as if asking permission—yet he was the one in the position of power. Shouldn’t it be me reading his face?

“...I wasn’t told the Executive Director himself would be coming.”

At “Executive Director,” his eyes flickered slightly. Just as I had stumbled over “Representative-nim,” he must have found it strange too. After a long silence, he finally spoke slowly.

“I’d like to talk a little, if that’s all right...”

My mind was still a tangle. Why was he here? Was it really for a meeting? If so, was I supposed to treat him purely as a business counterpart? While I turned over these thoughts, he inclined his head slightly.

“May I sit?”

That question drew out an involuntary laugh. Who would have thought there’d be a day when Kwon Yido asked permission to sit.

“And if I said no, you’d stand?”

“Of course. I’m the one who showed up unannounced.”

He answered without hesitation, as if it were natural. No sign of irritation at all. I hadn’t exactly expected him to be flustered, but I thought at least his expression might shift. Instead, his face was far too composed.

“...Sit. For now.”

I didn’t rise. I only fiddled with my teacup, turning my gaze aside. He walked forward with composed steps and sat across from me.

“......”

“......”

Again, neither of us spoke. I sipped my tea, then looked down at the small sweets laid out. Jujube and sweet potato wafers. Can one get indigestion from tea? In this atmosphere, even breathing feels like it might upset my stomach.

Fortunately—or not—before I could, a staff member came to bring food. How long until all the courses were served? The thought felt strangely overwhelming, but I forced myself to ignore it.

“Please, eat.”

Without a word, Kwon Yido picked up his utensils. Even as he sipped the chestnut soup appetizer, the awkward mood didn’t ease. If the bond had truly taken, it would be easier if I could read his thoughts. All I can sense is that he’s tense—nothing else.

In the unbroken quiet, the courses kept arriving one by one. Uiseondang was a restaurant I liked, but in this situation I couldn’t taste a thing. At this rate we might get through the meal in silence. With no other choice, I spoke first.

“We plan to launch a Christmas collection in winter.”

Carefully, I set down my utensils. As expected, Yido, who had only been nibbling here and there, turned his eyes toward me. I reached for the documents I’d brought and held them out.

“This is the report summarizing projected profit and response. It also includes details related to the budget.”

“......”

He didn’t take it right away, just stared blankly. Why is he acting so dull? This was a man who never flinched even under threat, and now he looks completely absent-minded.

“You said you came for a meeting.”

“......”

At my prompting, he finally accepted the report. While he flipped through the pages one by one, I stole glances at him. Yes, he had definitely lost weight. Not gaunt, but his sharpness gave off a brittle edge.

“Is the product development finished?”

“...Ah.”

Startled, I tore my gaze away. Unfortunately, I had been staring at his now slightly roughened lips. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice, waiting patiently for my reply.

“Most of it is finished. We’re running simple tests. Only the labeling remains, and that should be wrapped up this month.”

“I see... And this section here—could you explain it in more detail?”

What he pointed to was the planning concept of the collection. Filler content, with little more to say beyond what was written. I frowned faintly, then began to explain calmly.

“That part...”

I talked about the connection with the summer line, how seasonal change influenced the scents. Some items would be Christmas-limited, increasing their value by rarity. Once I finished the predictable, formulaic explanation, he immediately pointed to the next line below.

“I’d like you to explain this too.”

Again, there wasn’t much more to add. Still, I explained. He nodded slowly, then moved his finger lower.

“This as well.”

“......”

What is he doing?

Even as I went through the details, I couldn’t help wondering. Why insist on hearing verbally what he could just read? A thorough investor, perhaps, but this didn’t feel like diligence. It felt... different.

“If there’s something you’re dissatisfied with...”

“No.”

“......”

“I’m satisfied. I just want to hear it from you.”

Then he turned the page. Now it was the section listing the project’s schedule. His gaze lifted expectantly, asking me again to explain.

“...Our plan is as follows.”

In the end, I went through the entire report aloud, piece by piece. I might as well have prepared a presentation. Of all the people I’d ever met, he was the most particular counterpart. It would be one thing if he were pointing out flaws, but making me spell out every detail? Unheard of.

“...That’s all.”

By the end, the document was back in my hand. I had been pointing through each part as I explained, only passing it back when finished. After my final words, he received it again.

“I see... I understand.”

“......”

Why does it feel like his lowered eyes look regretful? Watching him silently, I caught him sneaking a glance at me.

“Nothing else to explain?”

It wasn’t my imagination. He was disappointed, pressing for more.

“...What exactly are you doing?”

I couldn’t help blurting it out, baffled. The report was fine, so why this behavior? His gaze stayed on the papers as he tilted his head slightly.

“Just...”

“......”

“Because I like hearing your voice.”

I couldn’t argue. Not when his expression was so openly pleased. The feeling radiating from him was nothing like the gloom he had carried before. When did he grow so calm? Somewhere along the way, his emotions had softened.

“...Did you even listen properly?”

Beneath the table, I clenched my fist. A mix of feelings welled up so sharply I had to dig my nails into my palm. If I wavered like this, he would sense it too. But I couldn’t calm down easily.

“Of course. I remember everything you said. Even the smallest details.”

I knew better than anyone he wasn’t lying. While I stayed at his house, he had fulfilled every offhand remark I made—even the casual wish that it’d be nice if the bathtub had a view of the sky.

“You said you came... for a meeting.”

I already knew business wasn’t his purpose. Only a fool would miss it. So why was he here? To me, there was only one reason.

“I came for a meeting.”

“......”

“With Representative Jung Sejin.”

He had come to see me. After three long months, he appeared before my eyes again. After proclaiming he would let me go, wasn’t three months awfully short?

“Then don’t indulge personal feelings. Stick to business.”

I turned my gaze to the untouched table. The braised ribs and tilefish lay untouched. We had paused even the meal, yet though our words sounded like business, they weren’t really work.

“You shouldn’t waste such a precious lunch hour.”

Every second of his time was valuable now. Seonho Group was entering upheaval, and he had to stand at its helm. To secure the vice chairman’s seat, there should be no room for someone like me.

“Well... I’ve always been interested in Sejin. Precious time should be spent where it’s needed most.”

For a moment, I thought he was addressing me directly. I flinched, but his face was expressionless. I lowered my head, rubbing at my brow.

“Why only now...”

It had been three months. Longer, if counting from when I first began working again. All that time, he’d shown no interest. Why suddenly now?

“...Just think of it as whim.”

He never gave a clear reason. His voice was steady as he said it. When I looked at him, he turned aside, asking instead:

“Is it all right, meeting me like this professionally?”

I didn’t understand at first, and so I stayed silent. Then he met my eyes again.

“I mean... is it all right if I appear in your sight?”

So careful a question I couldn’t answer at once. If I said yes, would he keep appearing? Was he truly asking for my permission now? I wanted to ask, but I {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} settled on the safer reply.

“I know how to separate public from private.”

Just a month ago, I couldn’t have said that. Even an hour ago, I wouldn’t have been sure. But after sitting here with him a short while, I could say it.

“I’m not shameless enough to tell an investor to stay out of sight.”

It was... surprisingly fine. Facing him didn’t bring the same fear as before. The bond had been overlaid with different memories, the resentment smothered before it could flare.

“...Still, this kind of meeting is a bit difficult.”

That didn’t mean I wanted to sit with him longer. It wasn’t dislike so much as discomfort. Not rejection, but avoidance. Our reunion was simply too awkward for me to say it was “fine.”

“If you’ve nothing else to say, I’ll be going.”

Knowing it was rude, I still rose from my seat. He didn’t stop me. His lips stayed sealed, his gaze unable to rise. So different from the proud Kwon Yido I remembered.

“Take care on your way back, Executive Director.”

His mood dropped sharply then. It wasn’t me—it was him. I left the room at once, and that was where our brief reunion ended.

***

The disruptions in life often come from the smallest things. A cut finger making typing difficult, a twisted ankle making stairs painful. Or eating spoiled food and never being able to eat it again.

After meeting Kwon Yido, cracks began to form in my peaceful routine. Nothing serious, just subtle shifts that gnawed unconsciously. My work was the same, but small things troubled me in ways they hadn’t before.

“...Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”

One was how often his image from that day rose in my mind. The slightly hollowed cheeks, the trembling gaze, and the figure I had left behind.

Pathetically, whenever I had spare time, I replayed that meeting. I should have turned back once. I knew too well what it felt like to watch someone’s back, powerless, yet I still turned away so firmly.

I should have asked how he was. Or used the chance to ask the questions I’d been holding. I had claimed to separate work from personal life, yet I walked out driven entirely by private emotion.

Not guilt—unease. I knew it was selfish, yet I didn’t want to remain the bad person. It hadn’t bothered me when we were apart, but one meeting was enough to bring forgotten memories flooding back.

“I want a perfume that smells like Jung Sejin’s pheromones.”

If he truly intended to let me go, why ask for that? He never meant to marry me, so why hadn’t he pushed me away completely?

Time beautifies memories, and the good shone brighter than the bad. The sight of him coldly turning away was drowned out by tenderness, replaced by the image of him in tears.

“Sejin-ah.”

When that happened, I forced myself to work harder. Testing perfumes I’d already made, reading staff reports to prepare for future projects. When that wasn’t enough, I even blended new scents with the materials Lee Heena had supplied.

It was the best I could do. I couldn’t cling to him over a single meeting. Even if, after that day, it seemed he thought of me constantly. Even if the quiet emotions seeping through to me were ones I tried hard to ignore.

“With the top note too heavy here...”

“Representative-nim.”

While discussing with the development team, Mr. Kim approached quietly. I frowned, still listening to Team Leader Choi, and turned to him. He hesitated slightly before speaking.

“There’s... someone you need to meet.”

“Me?”

Had something happened outside? With so many employees, why call for me? I blinked in puzzlement, and he added, still sounding a little stunned:

“...Executive Director Kwon Yido is here to see you.”