Is there anything that rots as easily as feelings kept bottled up inside? The emotions I had covered over and ignored must have started to fester at some point. The moment I realized they existed and pulled them into the light, they burst so uncontrollably even I couldn’t contain them.

The day after I poured out my resentment on Kwon Yido. When I woke up, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me. The bedroom was still full of pheromones, and my skin and clothes were dry and clean.

'Sleep more, why don’t you.'

He tenderly whispered as he rubbed at eyes that had to be swollen. Had he told his secretary to bring clothes? He was wearing a different suit from what he’d had on. Well, the clothes from the night before had been crumpled into a mess on the floor, not fit to wear anyway.

'I took a change out of the dressing room and put it on you. I thought it would be cold to sleep naked.'

Instead of saying thank you, I simply closed my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he hadn’t slept. If I said anything at all, it felt like the calm we had right then would shatter at once.

With that careful touch, it felt as if I’d gone back to when we were engaged. To when we had no problems, to when we shared our hearts in peace. Of course, I didn’t know what Kwon Yido had really felt then.

After that, I don’t remember what he said. I think I heard him say he was busy and had to go, but by the time he spoke I was already being dragged under by sleep. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone, and I took a suppressor and got through a heat cycle that was just barely manageable.

Honestly, I was relieved. The moment I was fully aware, the thought of facing his face felt awkward. The things I’d said while drunk were embarrassing, and on top of that, it was stifling to realize we still hadn’t redefined our relationship.

What’s going to happen to us now.

I was settling my feelings about the past, and yet I still didn’t know what I wanted to do in the present. Even after I’d opened the floodgates of emotion, there were so many things I didn’t know—how I should treat him, what I should do with this. We had already failed once, so I couldn’t choose anything rashly.

“Good morning.”

Monday, after the weekend. I left home earlier than usual. Since I’d slept poorly, I wanted to finish the perfume I’d been making. Lee Taeseong, who always waited early, drove me to the office, and Mr. Kim arrived not long after.

Maybe because only the final check remained, the work wrapped up sooner than I expected. By the time I was heading back to the office with the finished sample in hand, it was already close to start time. Unlike when people had headed home after the Friday night company dinner, the expressions of the employees coming in one by one now were not great.

“Is it really that hard?”

“I don’t hate the company, I just hate coming in...”

So-called “Monday sickness,” I suppose. One person’s comment drew nods and murmurs of agreement all around. I didn’t know whether to be relieved they didn’t hate the company, or think it all the same since they still hated coming in. As soft laughter fizzed out, another employee asked:

“Did the Vice President make it home all right on Friday?”

“Yeah, well...”

I averted my eyes without meaning to, feeling awkward. I slipped the perfume I was holding behind my back. Not for any particular reason—but I suddenly remembered how I’d acted toward Kwon Yido at the dinner. Leaning on his shoulder, holding his hand and the like.

“Come to think of it, I didn’t even manage to properly thank the Executive Director.”

“Maybe he’ll come today too? Director, is Executive Director Kwon coming?”

Thankfully, the employees didn’t seem to notice the strange current between me and Kwon Yido. Whether they truly didn’t know or were pretending not to, I couldn’t say. Only one person—the assistant manager who had sat next to me—looked at me with unusually bright eyes.

“Well... I’m not sure.”

I lifted a shoulder with a vague answer. In truth, with everything basically wrapped, there was no need to meet today. Still, if it was Kwon Yido, he might come by under the excuse of a final check. After the day we’d had, he probably had a lot he wanted to say as well.

“If he does come later, I’ll make sure to tell him.”

I figured, with high probability, he’d arrive at his usual time. I could tell him then about the dinner, too. That the employees had liked it, and that next time I’d play host on my end. First, I ought to offer proper thanks.

I ended the conversation with the employees and went into the president’s office. Aside from a morning meeting, there wasn’t much to do until he came. What on earth should I say when I saw him for the first time in two days. Thinking about that made my chest feel tight again.

But maybe it was for the best. The situation I dreaded didn’t happen. The time he would normally have arrived came and went, and even well past that, he still hadn’t come by the office.

***

“......”

Tick-tock, the second hand moved. I tapped the perfume bottle with my finger as I stared at the clock on the wall. I had set down the document I’d been reading long ago; a vague restlessness dragged my mood steadily down.

“...He should have been here by now.”

By now, he was long past due. Normally we’d have wrapped up the nominal meeting by this time, but I hadn’t seen even a single hair of his head today. Of course, he didn’t have to come every day, but hadn’t he said for the last three weeks he wouldn’t skip?

“......”

Should I call first. I picked up my phone with that thought, then dropped it back on the desk with a thud. I knew it was selfish, but the fact that he hadn’t contacted me once all weekend felt unreasonable. After trailing after me like a dog that’s lost its owner—now he changes his tune overnight?

“What could he possibly be doing...”

At times like this, the bond was useless. If only it would tell me where he was and what he was doing, not just his moods and emotions. Then I wouldn’t be craning my neck waiting like this...

“......”

I snapped to attention. Waiting? What on earth was I thinking.

“...What am I doing.”

I set down the perfume I’d been toying with and scrubbed my face with one hand. I had found it a hassle before, and now here I was wanting too much. I hadn’t even decided how I wanted to treat him—and I was just staring at the clock?

“Haa.”

This is why I hated it. It felt like my everyday life was skewing off-kilter.

It didn’t interfere with work, but my heart was definitely fluttering in small ways. The peace I had barely maintained was cracking bit by bit as he edged in. Although, in the end, he was the one who had given me that peace in the first place.

What do I want with him. The fact that I was agonizing over it at all was a contradiction when I pushed him away the moment we were face-to-face. The memories full of mistakes were certainly painful, and yet, now and then I wished I could go back.

Maybe I wanted to erase him completely. When I knew nothing, I didn’t have to worry like this. Of course, if someone asked whether I’d actually go back, I couldn’t give an easy yes.

Bzz, bzz.

“......”

In the midst of my meandering thoughts, a buzzing vibration interrupted me. Because I’d left the phone facedown on the desk, the sound was absurdly loud. I sighed lightly, picked it up, and my eyes flew wide at the name on the screen.

“Kwon Yido”

“......”

For a second, I nearly dropped the phone. My hair felt like it stood on end; it took me ages just to answer. Pressing the call button and raising the phone to my ear felt like an eternity.

“...Hello?”

On the other end I heard a faint murmur of noise. Someone talking, a click of something, the friction of cars on the road, and then the familiar voice at the end of it.

“Ah, Mr. Jung Sejin.”

“......”

Just hearing his voice made my chest tighten on its own. The sticky residue clinging to me washed clean away. My complaints about him melted like snow, replaced by relief.

“I called because I might be late.”

“...Ah.”

So he wasn’t not coming. I felt inexplicably at ease. But while I was relieved he hadn’t given up on me, a small bit of peevishness slipped in as well.

“...How late?”

He should have told me earlier. Why tell me when he was already late. What if I had an afternoon schedule—then we # Nоvеlight # couldn’t have the meeting.

“Well... that’s a bit unclear.”

He hesitated, unable to answer right away. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear the wavering in his voice. Was he very busy? The moment I thought that, what he said next wiped my mind blank.

“I was in a car accident.”

“......”

An accident?

“...An accident?”

My breath caught like I’d been hit in the back of the head. That one sentence sent my heart plummeting. So, he was late because of an accident? What on earth had happened that he was tied up this long?

“Wh... what kind, how... no—are you hurt?”

My fingertips went cold, and I switched the phone to my other hand. At some point I stood up, waiting for his answer. It was not even three seconds. In that scant time, as I bit my lip in impatience, his voice came, softened a beat later.

“Sejin.”

I don’t know why that single word was so sweet. Even through the phone, it felt like I could sense his pheromones. Calling me warmly like a spring wind, he added gently and softly:

“It’s okay, calm down.”

“......”

Only then did I breathe again. My strength drained and I sank into the chair. My heart still thudded, but his kind voice soothed me.

“It was a minor fender-bender. It’s just taking time to sort things out.”

If something had truly happened to him, I would have felt it before anyone. We were bonded, always connected to each other. Just now, as he sensed my anxiety and steadied me.

“I’m not hurt, but I plan to stop by the hospital. That’s why I said I didn’t know how long it would take.”

As much as I had been anxious, I could feel his worry for me. He’d shown no agitation over his own accident, and yet now he’d become suddenly and oddly considerate. Imagining that impassive face worrying about me made my throat constrict.

“...I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

I forced my mouth to open and managed an answer. If he’d called me himself, of course it wasn’t a serious accident. And yet I’d been so shocked I couldn’t even grasp that obvious fact. For a brief moment, my vision had gone dark.

“Then I’ll hang up for now...”

He hung up after saying he’d see me later. Even after the call cut off with a click, I held the phone for a long while. It took me quite some time to regain my composure; when I finally let out the breath I’d been holding, a dry laugh escaped me.

“Ha...”

I thought I’d resigned myself to everything, but apparently not. I’d thought I wouldn’t be shaken by much, and yet here I was, startled out of my wits. The pounding heart and the distant feeling pointed to one thing.

“...Kwon Yido.”

I didn’t want to lose him. The news of a mere fender-bender made it feel like my world was collapsing. It was unbelievable I had dared to think of erasing him. In the end, I was still wavering because of him.

***

Since when, I wonder.

Looking back, there had been countless moments. Bringing him to my home—or before that, agreeing to the meeting in the first place. Feeling uncomfortable as I weighed the intent of his proposed venture and saw him show up for the meeting.

When the ember of resentment I thought had gone out reignited, what remained after everything was burned away must have been my feelings for him. My head had repeated endlessly that I should push him away, but my heart clearly hadn’t even considered the thought.

It couldn’t be helped. Even if our process was filled with mistakes, the feelings themselves weren’t mistakes. Even if I gave up on my wish to belong somewhere, what I felt for him wasn’t just that hunger in disguise.

“Sorry I’m late.”

It wasn’t until the afternoon that Kwon Yido came to see “Sejin.” I had thought of him all through lunch, and when I finally saw him, I pretended nothing was wrong and greeted him. I had so much I wanted to say the moment I saw his face, but when I opened my mouth, only businesslike words came out.

Whatever he felt seeing me like that, he kept any small talk to himself. He didn’t mention last night, and he didn’t try to check whether I had worried about him. He only looked at me in silence, then belatedly turned his gaze away.

“And the charity event...”

The bond really isn’t much, is it. Even now, we couldn’t know what the other was thinking. I could tell he was tense, but not why. And likewise, he probably didn’t know why I had suddenly steadied myself.

Emotions can swell the moment you recognize them, and sometimes they can settle instead. Named emotions are better than baseless ones; there’s no better way to resolve needless fretting. Like now—as I accepted that I was wavering because of him and became astonishingly calm.

“Let’s stop here for today.”

He was the one who ended the meeting first. After checking the upcoming schedule, he straightened the papers and set them down neatly. All that was left was to wait; from the start there hadn’t been much to discuss.

“...What did the hospital say?”

Only then did I quietly ask after him. He looked fine on the surface, but the aftereffects of car accidents were what you had to be most careful about. If there had been a problem, he would’ve been admitted, but somehow I had the feeling he’d come to work instead.

“They said there was no real issue. It was a compact car that hit mine from behind while I was stopped, so my car’s fine too.”

“Was the other driver at fault?”

I couldn’t help asking, a little taken aback. Rear-ending Kwon Yido’s car—just the repair bill would run into the tens of millions of won at minimum. For most people, that was unthinkable.

“Technically, yes, but...”

He began in a tone that treated it as nothing much. Meeting my eyes, he gave a slight shrug.

“The driver was new, and their child was sick—they were rushing to the hospital. I didn’t take the repair costs, and I was late because I drove them to the hospital.”

When he said the child was ill, he faintly knit his brows. Others wouldn’t notice the change, but I knew it was the expression he made whenever he was troubled. Odds were, the sick child had worried him too.

“...I’m glad, then.”

It was unfortunate there’d been an accident, but it was a relief no one was hurt. Most of the follow-up would be handled by Seonho anyway, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford repairs.

But at my answer, he lowered his eyes and asked slowly:

“Glad I wasn’t hurt, or glad you didn’t have to pay the repair bill?”

“......”

It was a question that didn’t invite an easy response. I closed my mouth, at a loss for words, and he let out a soft huff of laughter. Then he looked at me again and said lightly:

“I’m joking.”

It was a familiar look. His lips curled up, while his eyes sank lower and lower. It wasn’t hard for me to see that for what it was—resignation.