I didn’t know why. I hadn’t thought deeply about it to begin with, and I didn’t face it often enough to pin down the cause. I only felt the mood grow increasingly subtle, guessing at reasons that slipped just out of reach and feeling frustrated.

In the meantime, he went and befriended every last employee in my house except me. The housekeeper who cleaned his room, the head chef who cooked, even the gardener who tended the grounds. However he managed to win over so many people, I would sometimes hear praise ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) for him.

“A rare good one, he is.”

“Don’t even get me started. Work’s been fun lately.”

“I worried he might be picky...”

Naturally, they began to change the environment around Jung Sejin. Everything that happened at home was reported, so I knew that decorative pieces had been placed in that room and his meals were gradually shifting toward Korean dishes. There wasn’t anything there to take issue with, so I let it be, but it was hard not to find it ridiculous.

“We’ve had contact from Chairman Jung.”

In the meantime, countless messages came from Chairman Jung. As planned, I answered none of them. He seemed eager to formalize the partnership as soon as possible, but I had no obligation to grant his wish. I’d bide my time, and when the signs of doom set in, I would simply acquire them.

Well then, if he got antsy enough, perhaps he’d try to get in touch through Jung Sejin. And if that happened, these “happen to run into each other and he ducks away” moments would disappear too.

“...”

“...”

It was a morning when I was deliberately dragging my feet. At that hour I would normally have left for work already, but I lingered over breakfast. Only when it was almost time for me to head out did Jung Sejin come down to the first floor, and as always, the moment he saw me he greeted me and tried to take his leave.

“...I’m sorry.”

There was no hesitation as he immediately turned away. He clearly meant to go to work even if it meant skipping breakfast. That, too, irritated me, and I set down my utensils and spoke quietly.

“Just sit.”

Even at those words he hesitated; only when I prodded him again in a tone like an order did he take the seat across from me. I don’t know why his “Pardon me,” was so laughable. No matter how I looked at it, he behaved like someone stricken with a contagious disease. And not me—him, as if he were the infected one.

The meal the chef set before him was different from mine. He gave thanks as if the habit were ingrained in him, seemingly without even realizing he’d thanked anyone. The chef, who had always been all business, was smiling with a contented face—I hadn’t seen that in years.

“...”

“...”

Only the clink of tableware sounded. As expected, he didn’t go out of his way to speak. With table manners as neat as his looks, he silently chewed and swallowed rice and bulgogi. His expression seemed calm, but the thin breaths he let out from time to time made it clear he was conscious of me.

He’s going to get indigestion at this rate. I hadn’t called him here to torture him, and I’m not so mean-spirited that I take pleasure in making an innocent person miserable. It was a simple whim—but for that, the atmosphere was far too sour.

“I’ve been meaning to say this...”

In the end, I was the one who opened my mouth first. He had kept his head bowed the whole time; only then did he shift his gaze to me. The moment our eyes met, I realized this was the first time I’d faced him at this distance. A face I should already have been used to suddenly felt strangely new.

“There’s no need to act like you’ve seen a ghost and dodge me every time we meet.”

“...”

His thin double-lidded eyes blinked slowly. His eyelashes were so even that the small movement stood out clearly.

“Unless you’re staging some kind of protest.”

I hadn’t meant it seriously. A protest—he wasn’t in any position to do such a thing. Naturally, I thought he’d bristle and say he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry. If that’s how it came across...”

“No.”

“...”

“It didn’t come across that way.”

Why is it so easy for this person to apologize.

He wasn’t cringing, and he wasn’t trying to gloss things over with an apology. He simply accepted it humbly and said he would correct himself. It was the attitude I’d always wanted—and yet a wave of displeasure surged up.

“But it still put me in a bad mood.”

Yes, it put me in a bad mood. That he avoided me, and yet had no trouble at all with everyone else. The person he needed to make a good impression on wasn’t the staff—it was me. Why was he acting like I was going to devour him?

“...I’m sorry.”

This slow-drifting apology, again, failed to satisfy. It’s rare for a voice with nothing grating in it to rub on the ear that badly.

“...”

I can say with certainty I seldom find myself at a loss for words. It was a first for me to open my mouth to say something, then click my tongue because I couldn’t find anything appropriate. With no outlet to vent this dissatisfied feeling, all I could do was leave him be and rise from my chair.

“Have a safe day.”

After such an unpleasant meal together, he casually offered the usual polite farewell. He couldn’t possibly have enjoyed what I said, but whether it meant he had a good disposition or no thoughts in his head, I couldn’t tell. Unable to hide my exasperation, I looked at his face—and, failing to find anything to say, turned my back on him.

***

For the next few days, I deliberately had breakfast with him. He came down steadily at the later hour and, seeing me at the table, wore the same hesitation as always. He eventually sat and ate, but we rarely exchanged words.

“Have a good day.”

Even so, his farewell stayed the same. No matter when I stood, he would swallow what was in his mouth, lift his head, and look at me. That calm gaze wasn’t so bad; I found this better than when he consciously avoided me.

Call it coincidence, but after that I started running into him more often. The problem was that whenever I did, he was always on the phone. With no one other than that younger brother—the one out of a third-rate drama.

“Hey, Minjae.”

A truly ardent courtship toward a brother who was now a married man. I imagined he called nearly every day, saying he would soon divorce “that alpha bastard.”

“Your voice...”

He was always drunk, and more often than not he unloaded every resentment on his brother who hadn’t shown his face once since the wedding. Petulant whining akin to baby talk, or jealous, misdirected anger. Usually there was a stream of harsh profanity, but in any case it was obviously a flail for attention—notice me.

“You can’t even drink—why do you keep having wine.”

At such times, Sejin always reacted in similar fashion. He coaxed and soothed him, working to talk him down; he went out of his way to emphasize “hyung,” to make the younger give up. It was firm in a way and oddly soft in another; anyone could see from the burdened look on his face that he still answered every call gently to the end.

“Father will worry—hurry and...”

That day, he was going up the stairs while taking Minjae’s call. Then he ran right into me, and the affectionate smile on his face twisted in an instant. It was the briefest moment, but his voice, which had softened, hardened up, too.

“...You should hurry and go home.”

I had no intention of stepping out of his way. I didn’t particularly want to eavesdrop, but his voice on the other end was so loud that it leaked past the phone, bellowing. Most of it was curses, but at times it sounded like raw hurt he couldn’t keep hidden was popping out.

“...”

Gall... no, call it displeasure, even revulsion. I didn’t care whether someone had erotic feelings for a family member, but if the target was my already-married contractual partner, that was different. If a word slipped out wrong, I’d be the one to suffer, too. I didn’t like the sight of someone flailing about without knowing his place.

“...Minjae, I’m busy right now. I’ll call you later.”

Sejin hurriedly cut the call and shut his mouth as if nothing had happened. The averted eyes, unusually, made him look ashamed. I passed him without a word, but similar scenes repeated more than once after that.

Not long after, Sejin said he would go to his family home. Perhaps he could no longer handle the younger’s whining over the phone. He’d probably answered “okay” too softly to a demand that he show his face.

“The day before I leave on a business trip, then.”

It didn’t matter. I’d be away about a week anyway, so a little cozy family play while I was gone wouldn’t be bad. I was also a little curious what response Chairman Jung would show.

“It’ll be good to see your family again.”

“Yes, well... I suppose so.”

He answered with a faintly puzzled look. As if wondering why I was making conversation; it made me want to add one more line for no good reason.

“You’ll see your brother too.”

“...”

So that was my real aim, was it? The moment I said it, his expression hardened. He’d been unruffled by anything—and only on this subject did he show an oversensitive reaction. It felt like the sole reverse scale. I disliked that intensely.

“I’ll give you a present. One should show at least that much consideration to a business partner.”

So I made a show of giving him a gift. There was no need for courtesy, but I wanted to make clear which of us was truly the one being excessive. He took the wine with a reluctant face, and when he heard what followed, his expression grew even more complicated.

“Tell him it’s from that alpha bastard.”

I hadn’t meant to, but the words came out like a sneer. Not because the phrase offended me, but because I disliked the attitude I’d been seeing lately. Overreaching without knowing one’s place is a mistake I have always hated in subordinates.

“We’ve arrived, Executive Director.”

Lost deep in thought, I only realized we’d reached the airport when the car stopped. The sky outside the window was a clear, spotless blue. It had rained all night yesterday, but fortunately there’d be no delays.

“Are you all right?”

Seated beside me, Secretary Park asked with an unusually concerned look. I turned, wondering what he meant—and realized the tablet I’d been holding had long since gone dark. I’d been zoning out the whole ride; it wasn’t strange he found me odd.

“If something is wrong...”

I raised a hand to say it was fine and pressed the inner corner of my eye with my thumb. I’d stayed up all night to adjust to the time difference; the fatigue was piled high. I’d need to sleep a bit on the plane and handle the rest afterward.

“Secretary Park.”

“Yes.”

I called him as I tidied what I was carrying. The reason I was in a foul mood wasn’t only physical. Since late last night I’d been out of sorts the whole time.

“Contact the house. Have them report as soon as Jung Sejin gets back.”

He had left for his family home yesterday and still hadn’t returned a full day later. I’d told him to stay as long as he liked, so perhaps he’d spend the whole week there. I had no intention of meddling with that behavior, but a sudden thought left me feeling like I’d been splashed with filth.

He must have met Jung Minjae. Playing the doting older brother for that younger who didn’t know his place, sloppily accepting his whining. He called every day even though the man was married; under the same roof, his behavior would be obvious.

It was entirely foreseeable. That was why I had personally sent the wine. But the thoughts that chased their tails finally linked to his unusual constitution and cooled my mood to ice.

They’d said suppressants didn’t work. Then how many times had the younger, living under the same roof, faced an older brother in heat? Minjae was a beta, but not being able to feel pheromones didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize an omega in that state. The flushed face, the heady breath—anyone could tell it was an omega in heat.

Even I, with no interest in him, had nearly been tempted—how would it have been for Minjae, already nursing forbidden feelings? It wouldn’t be strange at all if that immature brat, in a fit of impulse, reached out his hand.

“...Executive Director?”

“Ah.”

The papers in my hand had crumpled pitifully. I tamped down my irritation and handed the crumpled sheets to Secretary Park. He said he’d prepare fresh materials and gently urged that it was about time we disembarked.

“It would be good to sleep a little on the plane.”

No answer was needed. As I stepped out through the back door the driver had opened, I tried once more to shake off the stray thoughts I’d chewed over all night. Even so, since the feeling wouldn’t settle, I had to clamp down on my expression and mash curses back down.

Only after I boarded did I realize it. I had left the materials on Seonho Electronics’ security systems in the second-floor study I always used. I wouldn’t need them for this trip, but it was a mistake I would never make under normal circumstances.

***

They said Sejin returned from his family home after I’d departed for the United States. Only after I arrived at Dulles did I check the messages the staff had left and hear, over the phone, a rough report on his condition.

—He seemed... a little unwell.

“He’s unwell?”

Another heat? I thought so at first, then immediately learned that wasn’t it. From the symptoms it sounded like a feverish cold, and the staff who doted on him had already prepared porridge and a humidifier. I had meetings scheduled, so I couldn’t hear the details, but the fact he’d come back to my house lightened my mood somewhat.

I only checked the home CCTV about three days later. They said he was still sick, and that even when he ate well he often set down his plate after finishing only about half and went back to his room. Even so, he was going to the office without fail; I remember clucking my tongue at what a thorough workaholic he was.

The footage on the laptop showed those past three days. From the moment he returned home to his leaving for work just yesterday. His room, the kitchen, the entryway. The starkly narrow range of movement—there was something too mechanical for a living person.

“Looks like he’s been imprisoned.”

I didn’t know what he did inside his room, but once he went in, he barely ever came out. Sometimes, when a staff member brought medicine, he would stand in the doorway and speak briefly— that was all. Had he always lived this way since entering my house? If I’d known, I should have installed a camera inside the room, too.

“...”

I snapped the laptop shut. It suddenly struck me how absurd this was. I didn’t have the perverse hobby of voyeurism, nor did I intend to keep surveillance on an innocent person. Watching wouldn’t change anything; I decided to pretend I didn’t know and ignore it.

For the three days after that, I truly didn’t check the cameras. The staff reported that his cold had cleared but he still seemed to be languishing. Hearing he’d even skipped dinner and gone to his room, my solar plexus tightened as if my insides had turned over.

With nothing for it, I moved up my return by a day. I’d finished what I needed to handle quickly, and I simply couldn’t focus on anything else. Secretary Park questioned that decision, but silently booked the earliest possible flight.