I couldn’t even ask why as I followed Mr. Kim down the hall. That Kwon Yido had come here—what reason could he possibly have to show up like this? Come to think of it, I hadn’t even noticed when his emotions began to shift, so deliberately had I forced myself to ignore them.

“Did you see Kwon Yido earlier?”

“Wow, don’t even start. He’s ridiculously handsome. Better than most celebrities, right?”

“Better? He could walk onto a movie set right now. That aura of his...”

News had already spread, apparently. I could hear staff in the office whispering. A few craned their necks, trying to peek into the reception room. As if a frosted glass door would suddenly turn transparent. They must have been very curious.

“But was that trench coat supposed to fit like that? I tried on something similar at duty free once and looked like some creepy flasher.”

“Team Leader, he’s built differently than us.”

“How tall do you think he is? Over one-ninety, easy?”

Before opening the door, I cleared my throat to warn the employees off. Most of their comments were flattering, but whispering in front of an investor was still inappropriate. Thankfully, they fell silent quickly, retracting their meerkat-like heads. Though even then, they couldn’t help sneaking glances this way.

“......”

I exhaled deeply. For some reason, my hand on the knob made me nervous. The latch clicked, the door opened, and through the gap I saw Kwon Yido seated on the sofa.

“...Executive Director.”

At my voice, he turned toward me. If only it had been neutral. Instead, his thundering heartbeat came across vividly. His emotions, which had been strangely calm earlier, surged wildly the moment his eyes landed on me.

I stepped inside and closed the door. Mr. Kim remained outside, leaving «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» only the two of us in the small room. The air was heavy with the fragrance of coffee—someone had clearly brought in a fresh pot.

“......”

“......”

We locked eyes in silence. The second time we had faced each other. The first had been after three months, but this time only a few days. Perhaps that was why it was easier than before, though still just as unsettling.

“What brings you here?”

“......”

I asked as calmly as I could, but he didn’t answer. Just like last time, despite being the one to come on his own, he hesitated endlessly. I didn’t need to guess why—his emotions told me enough.

Only after a long pause did he finally avert his gaze and speak.

“...I came as an investor.”

That was all he said. A flimsy excuse, a transparent lie. Then again, with his face impassive, perhaps to others it might have sounded convincing.

“It would have been better if you had scheduled an appointment.”

“Sorry for dropping by suddenly. Next time I’ll call first.”

Next time? I had been ready to argue, but that simple apology left me speechless. As my lips parted without words, he gestured with his chin toward the seat across from him.

“Sit. I really do have something to discuss.”

“......”

Right. He was a busy man—he wouldn’t come all this way just to see my face. That would be far too arrogant a thought. He must have had some business pretext, just as he had at the last meeting.

He watched silently as I crossed the room and sat opposite him. It was like he was observing, or perhaps just following unconsciously with his eyes. After tracing every one of my movements, he finally asked in a cautious voice:

“Are you busy?”

“...Yes. I’m busy.”

I wasn’t, but I said it anyway. If I had been, I would still have had to make time for a man like him. And he knew as well as I did who was truly busy.

“Then please keep it brief.”

“...All right.”

The disappointment was written all over his face. He clearly had no idea how transparent his expression was. I lowered my gaze, pretending to blink.

“The Seonho Foundation is preparing a new program. I’d like to collaborate with Sejin. A portion of the upcoming winter collection’s profit would be donated to the foundation.”

“......”

“Of course, Seonho will provide the planning funds.”

So it really was business. For a moment, I felt deflated—then immediately caught myself. What’s wrong with me? Why react like that? Forcing down the private stirrings, I asked:

“...What benefit does your company gain from this?”

The structure was clear: Sejin wouldn’t lose a thing. Seonho’s money would circle right back to Seonho. All we had to do was look good while pretending generosity.

“I’d have to hear the details, but from what you’ve just said, it seems far too one-sided. Almost... entirely to our advantage.”

“It’s not only Sejin we’re approaching. Several companies will be involved. Between the foundation’s publicity and other benefits, we expect profits as well.”

“......”

“And it has symbolic weight. Our acquisition of Haesin Financial doesn’t look good. Partnering with Representative Jung will help mitigate that negative image.”

Irritatingly, once he started, he spoke fluently, smoothly. Some of his confidence returned, and he even glanced at me with a faintly self-assured look.

“And if it’s truly one-sided benefit, then all the more reason Representative Jung can’t refuse. Sejin adds a single seal to the package and takes pure profit.”

It was, essentially, a proposal with an already written answer. His position, the content, my circumstances, our relationship—no matter how I weighed it, I could only accept. And yet, I hesitated, a primal sense of danger gnawing at me.

“...The timeline is too tight. I need to consult with my staff.”

“It isn’t impossible within the time frame.”

“Still, it’s so sudden...”

Yes—sudden. That was the problem. Why had he reappeared out of nowhere, after vanishing for months? Suspicion kept rising, yet I felt presumptuous for doubting him.

“...You never cared about foundation work before.”

The words slipped out. My tone was sharper than intended. He didn’t reply. Slowly, I went on.

“Mr. Kwon, I don’t understand you. Even if it’s for business, you know full well it makes no sense for you to come here in person. Do you realize how flustered Mr. Kim was, having to call me in?”

I might have been a company president, but he was an executive director of a giant conglomerate. He knew his worth better than anyone. There was no reason for him to sit here, on equal footing with me, in a reception room.

“What is it you want from me?”

I looked him straight in the eye. The pounding heartbeat I felt was not mine. His unease, his nervousness, came through all too vividly.

“...Do you want me to answer honestly?”

His eyes sank lower as he asked back. His reply would depend on mine. A weary laugh escaped me.

“No... truthfully, I don’t want to hear anything.”

It felt like opening Pandora’s box. Just as before, fear washed over me. Whatever lay inside, if I confirmed it, I might never be able to undo it.

“But you know why we broke up.”

We had failed because we weren’t honest. Because silence piled up until we ended. That was the foolish mistake we repeated, and the conclusion we reached. Even if something miraculous had brought us back face-to-face, it couldn’t mend what was already broken.

“......”

At my words, his face froze. He even stopped breathing for a moment. Then, covering his face with one hand, he lowered his head.

“...I came because I wanted to see you.”

The confession spilled out like a sigh. Hearing it, a crushing tightness seized my chest. My fingertips tingled; I clenched my fist beneath the table.

“I thought I’d lose my mind if I didn’t.”

His voice was heavy, layered with emotion. His chest rose and fell as if he were struggling to choose his words. The faint pheromones that leaked from him carried the same shadowed hue as his mood.

“I told myself, just one more day, just hold out one more day. That’s how I lasted three months. Then I thought that meeting would be the end. But once I saw your face, I couldn’t turn back.”

“......”

“I know, it must seem ridiculous. I know you can’t understand why I said I’d let you go only to end up like this.”

He had clearly thought long and hard. His stream of reflections was steadier than I’d imagined. He had turned them over so many times inside himself that by the time he voiced them, he almost seemed relieved.

“But I can’t breathe.”

“......”

“I can’t focus on anything.”

I had thought the bond transmitted emotions fairly well. But it seemed I’d only sensed fragments. From his own mouth, his pain was suffocating, a weight I hadn’t fully grasped. The grief of loss he carried was far heavier than I had known.

“So I came up with this absurd project, just for an excuse to see you.”

“......”

“So I could breathe again.”

My eyes lowered slowly. I covered my mouth with one hand, turning my head aside. My mind went blank. I had no idea what words I could possibly offer.

“I don’t want anything from you, Sejin-ah.”

Only after saying that did he lower his hand. He wasn’t crying, but his gaze trembled faintly as it met mine. That he can show so many expressions... maybe I’m the only one who knows that.

“Just three weeks...”

“......”

“Until this project ends. That’s all.” 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

I couldn’t ask what he planned after that. Couldn’t ask if he’d end his feelings then. Any such questions dissolved when I looked into his eyes.

“...You brought the contract, didn’t you?”

I asked softly. The seal should be in my office. At my words, his eyes flickered. Like a frightened puppy. I swallowed a sigh.

“Next time, make an appointment.”

***

He had asked if I was busy, but the truly busy one was him. The moment the contract was stamped, he had to pack up and leave. Missed calls filled his phone’s screen.

“I look forward to working with you, Executive Director.”

We shook hands in front of the elevator, as formally as possible. Though he held on far longer than necessary. I smiled politely as I saw him off, while his eyes clung stubbornly to my face.

“...Next time, I’ll call first.”

He had done far worse before, so why should a handshake make him this pleased? Yet his mood was so buoyant I felt myself catching it. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, just as the elevator arrived.

“Safe travels.”

“......”

Instead of entering right away, his lips parted. I looked up, and he knit his brow slightly. Then he slowly reached a hand toward me.

“Here...”

His thumb brushed beneath my eye, then drew back. The gesture was so familiar I didn’t even stop him. He withdrew his finger, speaking casually:

“An eyelash was stuck there.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

I touched the spot he had grazed. He watched me, lips curving softly upward. That faint Kwon Yido smile tickled at my throat.

“I’ll come again.”

With only those words, he descended. His secretary would be waiting in the basement. The wistfulness lingering now—surely it was his. I forced myself to think so as I turned back toward the office.

“......”

And locked eyes with them. Employees craning from behind the wall. Not one or two, but a whole crowd. The glass wall made the interior far too visible.

Surely they hadn’t done that while he was here. Pretending calm, I opened the office door and stepped inside. But they were all still staring. Their gaze was too blatant to ignore, so I had no choice but to ask:

“...Do I have something on my face?”

They exchanged glances. Their whispers carried clearly. “Was there something on his face?” “Still, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” Then one brave staffer asked outright:

“Representative, did you already know Executive Director Kwon?”

“......”

Only a fool wouldn’t know what they were fixated on. I shouldn’t have let him touch my face. After all, we shook hands awkwardly, yet he had acted familiarly in the most telling of ways.

“No, we met for work. Earlier he was just taking off an eyelash.”

I kept my tone as even as possible, but they didn’t look convinced. If anything, they leaned in further, gesturing and whispering.

“Does anyone normally do it like that? So gently... like that?”

How many “like thats” could one question contain? And the funny thing was, others nodded along, as if the vague description made perfect sense. I let out a short laugh and narrowed my eyes.

“‘Like that’? Is this the standard of expression from our PR team?”

“No, you know, that... that sort of thing...”

Even vaguer words. I knew what they meant, but feigned ignorance. My blank expression seemed to work; they quickly redirected their teasing elsewhere.

“Clearly he has an eye for Representative Jung...”

“Of course, and Representative’s an omega.”

“Earlier it was like a scene from a painting...”

And just like that, they spun a whole romance in real time. That Kwon Yido had fallen at first sight and pretended to remove an eyelash just to flirt. If they knew we had actually been engaged once, how would they react? To argue would only add fuel, so I shifted the subject instead.

“Enough of that. We have work. A meeting this afternoon, so keep your schedules clear.”

Kwon Yido was Kwon Yido. Work was work. Now that the contract was signed, I had to execute it perfectly. The schedule would be tight, but sometimes it was better to be busy.

I calculated timelines in my head as I walked back to my office. Approvals would need to move quickly. Adding a single seal sounded simple, but it was no easy task. The foundation had to be contacted, the project team reassembled.

Three weeks. During that time, I likely wouldn’t have to face him much. No matter how much he wanted to see me, he couldn’t involve himself in every step. Once a manager was assigned, contact would lessen further.

The faint disappointment—I ignored it. His overjoyed mood—I forced myself to overlook it. After all, we were over. We were only holding onto the fragments of something already ended. Just as before, before winter truly set in, this too would end.

“......”

That thought stirred a strange unease. I glanced at the calendar on my desk. Three weeks from now—the cold season, when winter began in earnest. It was also around this time, in the past, that I had died.