One night of sex doesn’t change a relationship. What we did had been closer to an act of excretion, so there was no reason for him to suddenly become self-conscious about me now. He knew that too, so I spoke in a flat, detached voice.

“Sit down. Don’t stand there making a scene.”

“...Excuse me.”

His answer was calm, but the way he sat was awkward, stiff. He didn’t seem to have trouble walking, but sitting looked painful after all. I thought to ask if he needed a doctor, but decided to leave it—he would handle it himself.

During the meal, no one spoke. Jung Sejin, as impeccable in dining etiquette as his looks suggested, ate quietly without even the sound of chewing. Occasionally his gaze flicked toward me, but not as if he had anything to say.

In truth, I expected him to demand something in return for the night. That he’d act familiar, or try to speak to me with newfound warmth. But seeing him behave exactly the same as always, I couldn’t stop the words from slipping out.

“If there’s something you want, say it.”

“...Pardon?”

If he didn’t bring it up himself, I intended to ask. Handing him something he wanted would at least make what I did feel justified. And it would make sure he couldn’t bring it up again later—this matter would end here.

“Money, or whatever. I’ll grant you one thing.”

“...” 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

He blinked with a strangely blank look. His lips moved as if to speak, but what finally came out was a small realization.

“Ah.”

The stiffness in his face softened slightly. The sigh of laughter that slipped out carried a shade of self-mockery, a hollow sort of amusement.

“...You make it sound like you’re offering a whore’s fee.”

It felt like being struck across the back of the head. It wasn’t untrue, but I hadn’t expected such a blunt word to fall from his lips. And he said it in that same courteous, gentle tone, without a trace of scorn or shame.

“I appreciate the offer, but I wasn’t expecting anything. I was just out of sorts. I didn’t think there’d be any gain in it. So it’s fine—you don’t need to give me anything.”

Only then did I understand the source of the discomfort I’d felt toward him. That constant prickling, the irritation that always welled up at his reflexive apologies.

'I’m sorry.'

I couldn’t accept obedience that had no demands behind it. He behaved just as I told him, yet I could never find the reason for that docility. At times it seemed like he was trying to match my mood, but never did he make any effort /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ to curry my favor.

It was like watching an abused animal. As if he feared I might lash out or tear apart the small refuge he had. Moving through life with the caution of someone walking on frozen river ice, searching for a crack of air to breathe like a stray dog.

I had spoken harshly to him, but I had never been cruel enough to become an object of terror. And no matter how I recalled it, he didn’t seem afraid of me. If it wasn’t desire, and it wasn’t fear, then where did that behavior come from?

“If there’s truly something I’d like... it would be to soak in a bathtub.”

“...A bathtub?”

He said it with a faint smile, his voice gentle. At my questioning, he only shrugged lightly and added, casual as ever:

“There isn’t one in my room.”

“...”

This house had several bathtubs. And yet, he clearly assumed none of them belonged to him. I had restricted his movements myself, but I hadn’t expected that subtle resignation to hit me this strangely.

“I’d like it if I could see the sky from the bath.”

The words fell as lightly as a joke. Unless he truly meant to chase the clouds drifting there, it was hard to believe he was serious. But if he was—then perhaps such a trivial freedom was his only real wish.

“I’ll have the staff arrange it.”

His eyes lingered on me, as if to measure my intent. In those unusually pale irises, a faint glimmer rose.

“You won’t see the sky, though.”

It wasn’t the price of one night. It wasn’t a cheap gesture to shake off lingering guilt. It just felt like something I could allow. So trivial that refusing would have been nothing but spite.

“...Then thank you.”

Whether he took my words at face value or not, Jung Sejin lowered his eyes with a faint smile. He said he was grateful, but his expression wasn’t one of genuine delight—only the look of someone finally able to exhale in relief.

The rest of the meal was as quiet as before. When I asked why he’d caught a cold, he hesitated before answering. He said he’d simply been caught in the rain.

Jung Sejin was twenty-nine, always followed by bodyguards and a personal secretary. With a driver to handle every trip, he couldn’t even have gotten wet if he tried. I almost dismissed it as careless nonsense, but his next words made my expression twist.

“If I caused you worry...”

Worry. Too embellished a word to cover the displeasure and discomfort I felt. It wasn’t wasted emotion like that, even if I had been attentive.

“I only disliked seeing you dragging yourself around my house like some half-starved stray.”

Even so, there was no need to make excuses like a man caught out. Yet all I could manage was such a childish retort. Thankfully, he didn’t apologize, and I left him there alone in the kitchen.

***

Is there anything more unpleasant than being swayed by feelings you don’t want? After ordering the staff to ready bathwater for him, I began to notice Jung Sejin more keenly. Tiny details—his limited routine between his room and the kitchen, the unchanged dryness in his manner—that needled me with dissatisfaction.

But it wasn’t as if our relationship had changed much. We always had breakfast together, but only because I aligned my schedule to his. Not for any reason but to quietly check when he might seem in better health.

'Take care on your way.'

Every day he offered that thoughtless little farewell. It wasn’t particularly warm, but the problem was that it didn’t feel bad. At first I found it absurd, but once his steps regained steadiness, I had grown accustomed to it.

Perhaps it was because his voice was unusually soft. He spoke ordinarily enough, but in a cadence too gentle to imitate. A tone smooth as flowing water, curling into the ear with a single phrase.

'Chairman Jung’s calls have stopped altogether.'

At some point, Chairman Jung had ceased contacting me. Whether he had given up, or had some other scheme, I didn’t know. His silence was oddly suspicious, though it had little immediate effect. Usually, at such times, shady dealings were already in motion—something I’d need to look into myself.

–Hello?

It was on one of those ordinary days, after I returned home from work, that my sister called. She wasn’t the type to chat without reason, so I stopped in front of the elevator rather than getting in.

–Yido. Can you talk?

Because we’d spoken English as children, my sister and I both carried an accent slightly different from most. It wasn’t always noticeable, but sometimes it was distinct. Lately, with someone around me who spoke in such a soft, measured way, that difference felt even more pronounced.

“Go ahead. I just got off work.”

–Good. It’s about Kwon Ijeong’s lawsuit we’re preparing.

She meant the case we’d been gathering material for over years, digging into the crimes of that parasite in order to root him out once our grandfather passed. Our interests aligned, and we’d planned to act the moment the chairman was gone.

–That bastard’s made another mess. The losses to the company just covering it up are...

Few people are clean, but Kwon Ijeong was extreme. Short of murder, the assaults the company had buried already exceeded a dozen. There were rumors of rape, even drugs. He was a disgrace to the family.

–I can’t understand how he turned out like that, alone.

“If we knew, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

Evil doesn’t always come from misfortune. Tracing his upbringing was meaningless. From childhood, steeped in inferiority, he sank into his own inadequacy without ever making an effort. The fact that he’d already been pushed out of succession, despite being the second son, said enough about his incompetence.

–We need to talk about the Seonho Card issue too. Make time soon.

Apart from my mother, the vice president, my sister and I shared near-equal influence in the company. To be exact, as executive vice president her voice was stronger. Once I absorbed Haesin, that balance would shift, but by then she would no longer hold that title.

–By the way, you’re not planning to partner with Haesin, are you?

“As if. I’d have to be insane.”

A laugh escaped. Unless I’d taken a bullet to the head, there was no chance I’d join hands with a failing group. She didn’t sound serious either, changing the subject quickly.

–When will you divorce?

“Well...”

When would be the best timing?

“Not soon. It’s not something to decide on short sight.”

This marriage was no vow of eternal love. It was a relationship of necessity, meant to be discarded when its use was done. I’d already set the time—once Haesin collapsed entirely, I’d leverage the guise of marriage to meddle in their cleanup, and once it was finished, cast him aside.

–If he seems decent, why not just stay married? He struck me as not bad.

“...”

That was unexpected. The two of them had almost no contact, and she rarely praised anyone. What startled me more was the fact I couldn’t deny it.

“...He does know his place.”

–That’s a stingy evaluation.

“I mean he’s easy to keep around.”

At a certain age, being unmarried becomes inconvenient. No one dared call me defective, but refusing proposal after proposal wasn’t good for business. The moment I married Jung Sejin, half the nuisance vanished.

–Well, you’ll do as you like. It’s that bastard that’s the real problem.

“That’s why I’m preparing to deal with him.”

Everything had been postponed until after Grandfather’s death. Only with a major event could the smaller matters be buried. To measure family by their death, to wait eagerly for it—it soured the stomach of the one who had to set that timing.

“I know. There isn’t much time left.”

Chairman Kwon Byung-wook hadn’t appeared in the media for years. Rumors of him bedridden circulated, hushed by the occasional stand-in. But that couldn’t last forever. The moment the anniversary ceremony ended, we’d act.

–How much longer can he hold out...

“He’ll endure as long as he can. When he’s gone, you...”

My sister began to say she would watch the situation first, that she’d step down from her post. But in the moment I turned my head, I found another gaze startlingly close.

Jung Sejin, looking at me.

“...I’ll call you later.”

I hung up and pressed the elevator button. The doors slid open with a chime. I had no idea what to say—only after a sigh did words come.

“Not getting in?”

As soon as I spoke, Jung Sejin walked toward me. Even after we boarded together, he said nothing. I thought he might protest he hadn’t been eavesdropping, but his lips stayed sealed.

“Do you intend to run to Chairman Jung with this?”

I asked, even knowing he would deny it. If he meant to feign ignorance, now was the time to shake his head. But Jung Sejin only lowered his head, lips moving with a complicated expression.

“...No.”

“...”

“I have no intention of spreading your family affairs.”

I should have been more careful with that call. I’d seen him on the phone so many times, but never imagined it could turn against me.

“So you did hear.”

What a graceless man. He could have hidden how much he’d overheard, but by naming it “family affairs,” he made it obvious. As if to quietly tell me he knew my grandfather was about to die.

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.”

Still, a strange heaviness pressed down. I wasn’t so young as to grieve my grandfather’s death, but sketching out the future more clearly left me with a different weight. After Grandfather, I’d have to deal with Kwon Ijeong. Then consider divorce from Jung Sejin. Endless endings, all at once—the phone call had brought them into sharp relief.

“...Kwon Yido-ssi.”

He spoke only after I stepped fully out of the elevator. Hearing him pronounce my name so directly felt strangely unfamiliar. A small realization struck me, trivial yet startling.

“Shall we go for a walk along the Han River?”

For the first time, he had called to me. For the first time, he had made a suggestion. Without being clouded by a heat cycle, without bowing in apology. In that unique low, gentle voice, he spoke words of ordinary life that didn’t fit between us.

“There’s a spot along the road where you can pull over and rest. The night view reflected on the river is beautiful—you’d probably find it worth seeing.”

“...”

“The lights shimmering in the water are lovely. You won’t dislike it, I think.”

What to call this feeling? Even after countless breakfasts, we rarely met eyes at this distance. Now, close enough to touch, his eyes lifted steadily to mine.

Always calm, his gaze was like a quiet lake. The straight brows beneath his smooth forehead sloped gently. Like when I once thought him lofty, his expressions lingered strangely in my memory.

The Han River... I had no interest in such things. I wasn’t the type to find beauty in a reflection on water. Yet no words of refusal came. Only a small desire not to shatter the moment.

“Can you drive?”

“...Excuse me?”

So I asked as I loosened my tie. Perhaps he expected me to refuse, for he looked dazed, eyes wide. It suited him better than that weary smile he always wore.

“If you drive, I’ll consider it.”