[Morning]
Taekyun descended the stairs, his black shirt neatly buttoned, glasses resting over his tired eyes, and a laptop in hand.
The servants bowed deeply as he passed, their movements quiet and precise.
It was only 5:30 a.m., yet his day had already begun.
Without a word, he walked straight toward the gym, the sound of his footsteps echoing faintly through the corridor.
An hour later,
He came out, the towel draped over his shoulder, his hair damp.
After a shower, he changed into his usual calm self again dark suit, watch in place, expression unreadable.
The dining table was already set, but the house felt strangely still.
It was Sunday.
Usually, the air carried the faint sound of Haru's laughter from the garden.
Today, there was only silence.
He picked up the spoon, slowly stirring the soup, eyes fixed on nothing.
Only one thought lingered,
How is she doing?
He didn't let it stay long; his expression remained still, cold, distant.
As he took another bite, Bora appeared beside him, bowing lightly.
Taekyun nodded slightly, not lifting his gaze from his meal.
"How is…" he began, then stopped halfway.
Bora understood before he could finish.
"Sir, he's not well," she said carefully.
"He had a high fever the whole night. The doctor said his pheromones aren't stable too much fatigue, weakness…
He kept losing consciousness."
Taekyun's spoon froze midair.
For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes confusion, maybe guilt but it disappeared almost instantly.
He put the spoon down gently, exhaled, and after a pause said quietly,
"Take care of him. And… when he's better, send him to me."
The words came out colder than he meant them to, yet they left Bora completely still.
She stared at him for a moment, almost disbelieving what she heard, then quickly nodded.
As Taekyun stood up from his chair, the servants exchanged confused glances.
No one dared to speak.
He adjusted his sleeves, expression blank again, and walked out of the hall.
The sound of his shoes faded down the corridor.
"Did… did he just say that?"
whispered Han Ji, one of the younger servants, leaning toward Bora.
"Since when does the sun rise from the west?"
Bora shot her a sharp glance.
"Enough. Don't talk nonsense."
Still, her own mind was running in circles.
She turned and headed toward the kitchen, her steps faster than usual, preparing a tray for Haneul.
Outside, Taekyun stepped into his car and pulled out his phone.
"Lihan," he said as the call connected.
"Yes, sir."
"Who gave you all the information about Haneul? Find that person again. And check once more if Haneul and Jiwon have any relation I need proof."
He didn't wait for an answer, just ended the call.
Lihan, left frowning on the other side, muttered under his breath,
"What's gotten into him again?"
By evening, the quiet house had turned into dim orange shadows.
Inside the study,
Taekyun sat behind his desk, staring at his wedding photograph.
He reached into the drawer, pulling out a small silver box.
Inside were two rings one still gleaming, the other dull, the edge stained faintly red.
The name Harin was carved on the inner side of the second ring.
He held it carefully between his fingers.
His eyes, usually steady, softened for a moment as the memory replayed the way
she had give it back at him, blood at her wrist, the last look she gave.
He closed the box, forcing the air from his lungs.
His gaze fixed back on the frame.
"It's been years," he whispered under his breath, his voice low, heavy.
Before the next thought could form, a knock came at the door.
Taekyun straightened immediately the expression erased, the posture fixed.
"Come in," he said.
Bora entered quietly, holding the tray down and bowing politely.
"Sir," she said softly,
"He's awake. Should I bring him to you?"
Taekyun stayed still for a second, then slowly nodded once.
"…Yes."
Bora bowed again and stepped out of the study, leaving Taekyun alone with the faint ticking of the clock and the silence that suddenly felt too loud.