His gaze on me didn’t waver. His dark eyes were filled with utter seriousness. While speaking words as sweet as a confession, his expression was as heavy as if he had swallowed something bitter.

“The right to define our relationship belongs to you, Jung Sejin-ssi.”

I suddenly realized. This conversation was a continuation of our quarrel last time. A belated answer, circling back around to grant me permission.

“So ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) just take the rights.”

On the day he gave me the car, he had said something similar—that I had no obligations, only rights. Then, I had gone to fulfill my duty as the eldest son, but now even that was no longer necessary.

“Rights...”

I had known it already—that he had feelings for me. I wasn’t stupid enough to need words to see it. But there was a different weight in hearing it from his mouth directly, compared to only sensing it vaguely.

“...What rights do I have?”

I looked at him straight and asked. Not accusingly, but simply out of curiosity. I wanted to know the extent of what he could, and would, do for me.

“I’ll give you whatever you ask.”

He answered easily. His well-shaped lips curved softly.

“If you want to make perfume, make it. If you want to return to Haesin, you can. You can bring back your secretary if you like, or, to be blunt, you can even leave home right now.”

His voice was kind, almost dreamlike, as if prepared to grant me anything. Blinking slowly, I listened as he finished gently:

“I’ll give you anything I can.”

“......”

Was this the moment I should feel happy? Or should I see it as an opportunity and grasp it?

The relationship I had defined with him was not of this kind. At first he had only been someone to endure, but at some point, I had been drawn into his care. I had grown complacent in that ease, lulled until only recently had I woken up.

“I appreciate it, but...”

So I couldn’t rejoice at his words. Too many questions rose for me to be comforted by his affection.

“I don’t know.”

He would do everything for me, yet not announce our engagement. He gave me the appearance of choice, yet never drew closer himself. The line he had subtly drawn remained.

“Why would you do all this for me...?”

“......”

“...What benefit is there for you, Kwon Yido-ssi?”

He had asked me to be his lover, but I knew it wasn’t the whole truth. He told me to define our relationship, but it didn’t mean he was offering himself fully. He had changed my environment completely, yet had no intention of entering it himself.

“Well...”

He lowered his eyes, lips parting with what sounded like a plausible reason.

“Because I like you, Jung Sejin-ssi.”

“......”

“I want to give you everything you want.”

It was a line that should have thrilled me, but instead it unsettled me, as if I’d heard a lie. Not that his feelings were false, but that the truth was hidden beneath vagueness.

“...You realize your words contradict themselves.”

As I once said, conversing with him was like circling around the point without ever reaching it. He still hadn’t said what he wanted, only what he wished to give. The only answer I could manage was:

“What I want isn’t rights.”

A place I could belong, and a stable relationship. Was that really so difficult to ask? I hadn’t thought it was much, but those were the only things he withheld, even as he promised everything else.

“You say you like me, but you never desire our relationship itself.”

I didn’t believe in kindness without cost. I couldn’t understand why everything he did was only out of affection and goodwill. If he truly wanted to express his feelings, shouldn’t the return he sought be my heart?

“You could have just said, ‘I’ll give you everything—be my lover.’”

“......”

He looked at me silently, not speaking. His eyes flickered with complexity, never revealing their depths. Only after a long while did he whisper softly:

“If I asked you to be my lover now, you’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

He seemed calmer now than earlier. Whatever he had thought, his unsettled gaze had quieted. Lightly clenching his hand on the table, he spoke slowly.

“But I want you to be a perfectly independent person.”

Independent? My brow furrowed instinctively. He went on without pause.

“I want every choice you make to always be yours alone.”

I sensed it faintly—this time, he was sincere. His gaze was clear, not clouded by a speck of hesitation.

“No outside pressure, no coercion. I want you to act only from your own will. And not from a foundation of fear, either.”

“......”

This time, his words struck home. My feelings for him weren’t based solely on affection. As I flinched and narrowed my eyes, his voice came, self-mocking:

“If it were only up to my heart, yes, I’d beg you to choose me.”

He fell silent, then let out a hollow laugh. It was closer to a sigh of futility than a laugh. Covering his face with one hand, he spoke in a voice barely audible, pressed down.

“But I don’t have the right, Sejin-ah.”

“......”

The resolve I had built up drained like air escaping. Along with it, emptiness rushed in. My head felt hollow, and in that emptiness, a whisper rose.

'...Sejin-ah.'

“......”

I shot to my feet. The memory that flashed through me left my hair standing on end. At the scrape of the chair, Yido looked up. Seeing my pale face, his eyes widened.

“...Jung Sejin-ssi?”

I squeezed my cold hand, shut my eyes tight, then opened them. The image had vanished in a blink. I turned away, lips fumbling.

“I need the restroom for a moment.”

He had no chance to stop me. I strode quickly, almost running from the dining hall. If I didn’t, I might lose composure in front of him.

Thanks to the blocked-off area, the hallway was empty. I entered the restroom, splashed cold water on my face again and again. It felt as though the little alcohol I’d had was rising up, so I needed to cool myself down.

Once my mind steadied somewhat, I twisted the faucet shut. Lifting my head blankly, I saw myself in the mirror. Droplets clung to my chin and fell one by one into the basin.

'Sejin-ah.'

“...Ha.”

My head spun. The scene that had flashed felt vivid as if it had happened yesterday. His hand gripping mine desperately, begging. His voice calling my name. And the familiar face in front of me.

'I’m sorry.'

It was a memory of Kwon Yido crying.

***

There are times when memories not my own flicker through. Like that day in his house, gazing at the sky through the bathroom window. Or in the greenhouse on a rainy day, remembering someone worrying over me.

I had often wondered why such things appeared, where they came from, but never dwelled long. I feared facing those remnants might unravel something. And since the comfort Yido gave me was so warm, I thought it easier to settle in it.

But if those memories belonged to Yido, it was different. His tearful apology stuck in me too sharply to ignore. Even if it was only imagination, the vividness clung to my mind.

So I stayed in the restroom for a long time. My stomach churned strangely; just sorting my thoughts took ages. I washed my face twice more. My damp hair dripped without drying.

“......”

By the time I stepped out, heading back toward the dining hall, it was late. Just as I turned the corner, I caught an omega pheromone. And a woman’s voice.

“Did you find him?”

I froze. In this restricted area, there were only two possible women—Kwon Sangmi, or Kwon Ikyung. And the familiar voice was surely Ikyung’s.

“...Yes.”

“......”

“No, it’s fine. I knew that bastard would cause trouble someday.”

She was on the phone. I considered turning back, but there was no other path. Clicking my tongue, I glanced at the dead-end hallway, then the corner I needed, caught between them.

“Grandfather took him. It’s punishment.”

I deliberately let my footsteps sound as I approached. The voice cut off at once. Pretending nothing, I turned the corner. As expected, there was Kwon Ikyung with a phone.

“...Ah.”

He let out a small exclamation, caught off guard. Dressed in black, a cigarette unlit between his lips. Smoking would be forbidden here. As I thought this, he spoke into the phone:

“I’ll call back.”

Click. The line ended. He waved the cigarette between his fingers and winked, as if to explain first.

“I wasn’t smoking. Just holding it.”

Surely someone like him wouldn’t actually smoke in a hospital funeral hall. That would damage the company’s image.

“......”

“...Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes so like Yido’s looked up at me. His jawline was softer, lips pressed tight. After a long pause, he asked quietly:

“You heard?”

“Yes.”

I admitted it plainly. I hadn’t heard much anyway.

“From when you asked if he was found.”

“Ahh...”

He nodded knowingly, frowning briefly before smoothing his face. I apologized cautiously.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“No, I shouldn’t have been on the phone here.”

He shook his head easily. His creased expression relaxed. Snapping the cigarette in half, he tossed it into the trash bin.

“I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

This area was only connected to the restroom. He probably assumed no one would pass.

“Then, I’ll go...”

I was about to slip past when he called me.

“Sejin-ssi.”

Do all of them take lessons in speech? Their voices and tones were uniformly refined. I had been trained too, but mine never carried such elegance.

“Just in case—you should forget what you heard. I don’t think you’d talk about it, but still.”

His voice was gentle, yet carried a pressure I couldn’t ignore. It was what I sometimes felt from Yido, or from their mother at the engagement dinner.

“You don’t have to worry. I won’t say anything.”

There was nowhere I’d repeat it anyway, and it wasn’t much to remember. At once, he smiled faintly.

“I like clear answers.”

“......”

It reminded me of Yido. His expressions, his way of speaking.

“What is it?”

“No, just... you speak a lot like Kwon Yido-ssi.”

“Ah. I hear that often.”

He agreed without displeasure, and continued naturally.

“Yido and I take after our mother. Ijeong resembled our father. Though our personalities are all different...”

His trailing words carried many unspoken thoughts. Having missed my chance to leave, I only nodded. Then he glanced at me and asked:

“You’ve heard about Ijeong’s disappearance, right?”

“Yes, only through the news.”

I answered with mild detachment. I considered offering condolences, but empty words would help no one.

“What does Yido say?”

“Not much... He hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Of course. Not something you’d tell a fiancé.”

I flinched at the word. I hadn’t expected his family to call me that. He, after all, had been at the formal engagement.

“They won’t find him. Our parents don’t seem intent on trying, either.”

I remembered them at the hall, mourning their father. But no sign of concern for Ijeong?

“Our family is like that. Very individualistic. We don’t care much what happens to others. Put bluntly, it means we lack affection. Put nicely, it means we separate public from private thoroughly.”

Yet they hadn’t seemed distant with each other.

“Ijeong made too many enemies. I always thought it was only a matter of time.”

“...Doesn’t it worry you?”

“Worry?”

He laughed shortly, then brushed his hair back.

“Did Yido worry?”

“......”

“See?”

We had never spoken directly of it, but surely Yido hadn’t worried either. He hadn’t called him “hyung” since he was five, and even struck him once for trying to harm me.

“I think of it as punishment. Blood ties don’t mean you must always take their side.”

So Kwon Ikyung knew what his younger brother had done? Otherwise, why be so cold? Shaking his head, he gave a rueful smile.

“Sorry, I rambled. Just frustrated.”

“No... it’s fine.”

Even if he felt no affection, surely a sibling’s disappearance lingered on his mind. He had said earlier all three of them had different personalities. This must be his difference from Yido.

“And belatedly—Hye-yul has told me a lot about you.”

He smiled kindly, his demeanor softening at his daughter’s name.

“Thank you for being good to her.”

It felt strangely new. Just an ordinary expression of gratitude, but so unlike the ruthless man rumored as next vice president. For that moment, he was only a parent.

“She’ll visit often. Please take care of her. I’ll be busier for a while.”

“You must be overwhelmed with company matters.”

“Well, yes.”

With the chairman’s seat vacant, much work awaited. Sangmi would become chairman, Ikyung the next vice president candidate. Contrary to Yido’s claim that the position already belonged to him.

But Ikyung’s face remained unchanged as he said:

“I’m planning to step down from vice president.”