The rain only grew heavier. Perhaps the true beginning of the monsoon, for it showed no sign of stopping. The sky was so thick with dark clouds that even in the middle of the day, the world seemed shrouded in darkness.

Kwon Yido’s secretary did not say a word on the way home. His poised, distant manner reminded me so much of Mr. Kim. I sat blankly in the back seat once more, and the car carried me along the wet road until we arrived at the house where I had been staying.

“Then, I’ll be on my way.”

He opened the rear door for me, then climbed straight back into the car. Watching the tail of it recede, I entered the elevator and went upstairs. Since Kwon Yido had not yet returned from work, only the staff remained in that vast house.

“....”

I never thought I would come back here. I had assumed that even if I were cleared, I would never see him again. Once I had been branded guilty, there was no reason for him to redeem me.

But in that moment on the edge of a cliff, the only one who reached out was Kwon Yido. Should I have felt glad, or only humiliated? I couldn’t be sure. The only thought that came was this:

He helped me because he didn’t know. He didn’t know what I had done, or what harm I might bring him. If he ever did, it wouldn’t end with simple betrayal.

As if drawn, I turned and walked out to the garden. I hadn’t taken an umbrella, nor even proper shoes. Stumbling outside, I stepped into the rain without hesitation.

The downpour roared in my ears. It wasn’t a deluge, but it was too heavy to endure bare. My wrinkled suit soaked through, leaving me like a bedraggled rat.

The garden in bloom looked grim in the rain. The gray sky dulled even the greenery’s colors. The hushed, stagnant scene matched my sinking mood, as though time had frozen—if not for the pounding rain.

I stood there a long time, letting myself be drenched. If I could, I would have let the rain swallow me whole. I wanted time to stop, too afraid of what the future would bring.

But not every wish is granted, no matter how desperate. If it were, I would have been acknowledged as Father’s son long ago. The rain that began to weaken with time was no different from my heart.

'Sejin.'

I wanted to see Kwon Yido. Shamelessly, that was the thought that surfaced at the end of fear. Now that I was truly alone, I wanted him to accept me just once.

Was it only my imagination? I heard footsteps. Measured, upright, steady—just like someone I knew. They grew closer, clear even through the rain.

And then—

“If you catch a cold like this, what are you going to do.”

The low voice wrapped around my ear. The damp air filled with the rich scent of wood. When I turned my head, I saw them: deep brown eyes, finely cut features.

“Jung Sejin.”

“....”

The rainy sky disappeared under the shadow of his umbrella. Was this a dream? If so, I hoped never to wake. I wished the worry in his eyes could remain forever.

“Why are you like this?”

“...Ah.”

Only then did I realize he was real. I had thought of seeing him, but when he appeared, dizziness struck. As I swayed, he steadied me firmly with one arm.

Tsk. His tongue clicked. His pheromones mingled with the rain, enveloping me. Holding my drenched body against him, he tilted the umbrella toward me.

“Your body’s cold...”

I had always thought of him as cool, but now he felt hot enough to burn. Or perhaps, as he said, it was simply that I was too cold. His hand on my arm, his warmth—everything lodged heavy in my chest.

“I went to all the trouble to get you out. Don’t throw it away.”

His tone was brusque, but inside it was clearly worry. Like the worry Minjae had shown—but this time it reached me sweetly through his eyes.

“Why...”

Though the rain poured endlessly, I was thirsty. Thirsty to drink, and just as much to escape his hold. My body was soaked, but my throat was parched.

“...Why did you bring me out?”

Better if you hadn’t. Then I wouldn’t have seen Minjae, nor been tortured by your face. Shameless as it was, that was how I felt. I didn’t want to feel this wrenching guilt that seemed to wring my conscience dry.

“Well... it’s a little difficult if my husband gets arrested.”

He met my eyes as if nothing was amiss. He stared quietly, scanning from my eyes down to my nose, lips, shoulders. His lips moved with a faint breath.

“Well, that’s the official excuse.”

His large hand cupped the back of my head. His touch was careful, parting my wet hair as he stroked gently. Lowering his eyes, he murmured:

“Just looking at you, I can see you’re not capable of that.”

The words left me breathless. They struck deeper than any comfort. Hearing them, I felt as though the cuffs on my wrists had finally fallen away.

“If you needed money, you’d have tried to win me over. Not stolen some pitiful funds through embezzlement.”

Coming from his lips, even such a statement sounded reasonable. If I had ever been greedy, it would have been far more rational to side with him. That this obvious truth had never been acknowledged was why I’d spent the night bracing for a verdict.

“You need to stop apologizing for other people’s sins.”

The words broke me. The injustice I had suppressed surged out, impossible to dam. My vision blurred, heat swelling under my eyes.

“Hhk...”

What had I done so wrong? Tears fell before I could stop them. Sliding helplessly down my cheeks, they hit the ground before I could even feel shame.

“Hh—hh...”

Maybe my existence itself was wrong. I had everything others envied, yet I ended up treated like this. Unless I had done something to twist my fate so grotesquely, how could the end always be like this?

“...Hhk.”

“....”

Awkwardly, Kwon Yido held me close, trying to soothe me. He shielded me with the umbrella, letting himself be soaked as he drew me in. The rich scent of wood, the faint trace of his own pheromones, smoothed the knots in my chest.

“...Hhk.”

When you feel too guilty, even saying I’m sorry won’t come out. Even if guilt drives you mad, apologizing still takes courage. To confess and beg forgiveness—that is harder than anything.

“Hhk...”

I didn’t want to be abandoned. That was why I hadn’t refused Father’s command, and now why I couldn’t confess. I feared he might cast me away in an instant, turn his back on me coldly.

“Hhhk, hhk...”

I don’t know how many silent confessions I made. I’m sorry. I’m sorry again. I’m so ashamed, I’ll only disappoint you. For me to be in your arms like this—it’s shameless, unforgivable.

“Don’t cry, Sejin.”

Like the falling rain, I wept endlessly in his arms. He held me for a long time, sending out a gentle stream of pheromones. His voice as he called my name, the hand stroking my back—all of it was tender enough to melt me.

So in the end, I couldn’t say anything. I opened my mouth, but the sobs choked the words back. I couldn’t risk losing this kindness, couldn’t even thank him for saving me.

A few days later, Haesin Financial Group launched a new application. A program with an unparalleled security system, unique to Haesin. It was the very system I had stolen from Kwon Yido’s study.

***

Cold air filled the study. The chill seeped into my fingertips though the day wasn’t cold at all. My exposed nape prickled, my lips frozen shut.

“....”

The look he gave me was the most frightening I had ever felt. When those deep eyes went cold, I wanted to fall to my knees even when I’d done nothing wrong. Now, when it was my fault, how could I possibly escape?

“Well... I suppose I should ask, for form’s sake.”

His normally rich voice now dragged low across the floor. It might have sounded blunt, but I had grown used enough to him to understand. He was holding back anger that had already risen to the brim.

“Was it you?”

In his hand was a sheaf of documents stamped with the Seonho Group insignia. I had seen them before. I knew where they had sat—in this very study, beneath the mounted gun on the wall, on the table where I now faced him.

“...I’m sorry.”

It was all I could say. I couldn’t even look him in the eye, my head bowed from the moment I entered. I didn’t dare see his expression, his eyes.

“I’m sorry...”

A low laugh escaped him. Maybe even he found it ridiculous. It took him a long time before he spoke again, after that crushing silence.

“When was it?”

The question wasn’t hard to understand. He was asking when those documents had passed into my hands.

“When you were on a business trip...”

The night I went to the family home for dinner, then stayed alone in the officetel. That was the day I realized I couldn’t refuse Father. Whether from gratitude, or ingrained obedience—I could never defy him.

“I delivered them then.”

I supposed it was luck. Normally meticulous, Kwon Yido must have accidentally left them behind. By chance no staff had entered, so I had time to photograph everything on my phone.

“I’m sorry.”

No excuse could cover it. It was bound to happen, but I was too inadequate to say anything. Hungry for even a scrap of affection, I couldn’t distinguish what I should never have done.

Because the system had been incomplete, Father must have finished it using my materials. He would have patented it before release, so now no one could use it without Haesin’s permission.

“...Ha.”

Business could unravel over the smallest thing. Development required resources; fail to recover the investment, and deficits were inevitable. Seonho released new products annually—this would wreck their schedule for the year.

“Mr. Jung Sejin.”

I flinched at my name, shoulders jerking. Still I couldn’t meet his eyes. I held my breath, waiting for the blow to fall.

“Well, we weren’t anything at the time, so let’s set that aside.”

The documents slipped from his hand. Scattered papers littered the floor, like my own scattered mind. One sheet fluttered to rest at my feet.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

I knew what he must feel. That while we had shared kisses, shared emotions, I had deceived him. That what we had mixed was not only bodies, but that it was tainted.

“That time... it wasn’t short for you either...”

“....”

“If you’d said a single word, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

His voice was taut, ready to break. His plans must have been ruined. I tried to say I was sorry again, but then he called me by name—far colder this time.

“Jung Sejin.”

Slowly, I raised my head. It was instinct. In his eyes I expected anger—but saw instead something more desolate. His gaze was wrecked, more pitiful than furious.

“I’m giving you a chance to explain.”

“....”

'What... what have I done.'

His face showed not only blame but so many tangled things. Betrayal, regret, emptiness, loneliness. Even a stained, ugly affection, and the small wound it left behind.

“Give me some excuse. Otherwise, I’ll think of it however I want.”

This was the moment to deny it. The last mercy he would offer. I could have begged, said it was Father’s command, that I never meant to disappoint.

“Were you threatened?”

But when I tried to speak, no words came. I had not been threatened. I had not been promised anything. Could I truly put this on someone [N O V E L I G H T] else? The more I thought, the less I knew.

'Sejin, this was your choice.'

Whenever something went wrong, Father had always said it. You chose this path, so you bear the responsibility. As if being his son meant I was bound to fulfill duties, whether I willed it or not.

“...No. I wasn’t threatened.”

My lips moved as if under a spell. Excuses rose and vanished like they had been erased. And in the end, only this remained:

“I... I stole it with my own hands.”

'Just say you did it, and it’s over. Right?'

Never once had an excuse of mine worked. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. That was all I’d ever been allowed to say. The more I spoke, the worse it always became.

“From the start, I thought it was meant for Haesin...”

Smack. A light crack split the air. A sting, my head turning aside. I couldn’t process it at first—the pain was too slight. As I blinked blankly, his voice cut through, colder than before.

“Do you think I’m crazy enough to hand over documents like that to outsiders?”

Outsiders. That word hurt more than the slap. My cheek no longer stung, but my gut felt weighted with stone. With a bitter laugh, he spat:

“I must not even be worth an explanation.”

“....”

Ah. I must have spoken wrongly again. I had just thrown away the last chance to turn this back.

“You said you didn’t want anything...”

“....”

“And I was the fool for believing someone like you.”

His words twisted like a blade under my ribs. My throat locked, the back of my neck chilled.

“You should have known your place.”

He wiped his face blank, expressionless now. No more trace of the hurt from before. Just rigid, professional, as he inclined his head.

“Mr. Jung Sejin.”

I hadn’t known—that the most formal address would feel the most like a stranger’s. That his cold mask was more terrifying than his anger.

“You’ll regret this for the rest of your life.”

He strode past me out of the study. The door slammed, ending our exchange. I didn’t stop him. All that remained was the sharp, cutting edge of his pheromones.