* * *

Han Doha had been staring at the letter for quite a while, nervously biting his lip as the faint scent of the sea lingered on the paper.

As expected, another letter turned out to be a resignation letter, complete with a neat signature.

Checking the back of the letter for any additional message, he let out a hollow laugh.

-Don’t bite your lips. I left lip balm in the top drawer of the CEO’s desk. Please make sure to use it.

-I won’t be able to take care of you for a while. Don’t act like a child.

-Please ensure Mr. Lee’s leave request is approved.

There were tiny, erased scribbles in the most inconspicuous corner of the letter.

Holding it up to the light and examining it closely, Doha managed to make out the faint words.

His hand trembled slightly as a wave of emotion, be it unease or impatience, surged through him.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he leaned back against his chair, gripping the letter tightly, and ran his hand over his face repeatedly.

“Turns out I was the one wearing the leash, damn it.”

-A well-behaved dog deserves a reward.

That was the only trace left of Seonyul, not the ‘Secretary Seonyul’ that Doha had been searching for.

---

Spring had arrived.

The wind was still quite chilly, but the warmth of the sunlight felt comforting.

Despite the season’s changes and the blooming petals hinting at the passage of time, things were as busy as ever at Reed Construction.

The staff, including the secretarial team, occasionally mentioned the resignation of Secretary Seonyul, but that was about it.

The workplace was hectic, and there was no time to dwell on the vacant position.

This was also true for Jo Yeonjae, who had transferred from the TF team to the advertising and marketing department of DP Textiles, a subsidiary of the Daewon Group.

It was unclear why only he had been moved to a fashion company, but every time he recalled the struggles of his former senior in the secretarial office, he thought this job was better in comparison.

“Yeonjae, I just sent you a file. Please check for typos and print seven copies within the next 30 minutes for the small meeting room.”

The request came from a deputy manager in the same department.

Yeonjae nodded and quickly got to work.

This place was busier and stricter in hierarchy compared to the secretarial office or the TF team.

He often found himself missing Seonyul and the secretarial office, but longing for it wouldn’t bring it back.

-Most of all, Seonbi isn’t here.”

Looking at the can of Coco Palm on his desk, Yeonjae picked it up, opened it, and took a sip of the sweet drink.

It had become a habit by now.

Whenever he drank the Coco Palm that Seonyul used to hand him, he couldn’t help but think back to those days.

-Yeonjae, you’ll do just fine. Even without me, as long as you keep doing what you’re doing.

Leaving only a short message, Seonyul had resigned without a backward glance.

The only person who witnessed Seonyul’s final appearance was Mr. Lee, leaving everyone else feeling deeply regretful, especially Yoon Sanghye.

Her ex-boyfriend, who had lost his mind, had stabbed their boss and ended up in prison—who wouldn’t be shaken by such an ordeal?

After crying every day and feeling utterly helpless, she started to stabilize bit by bit after Seonyul’s resignation.

Sometime later, Yoon Sanghye began carrying a printed piece of paper with her everywhere.

While others assumed it was his resignation letter, Yeonjae knew better.

It was actually a brief letter from Seonyul.

He didn’t know the exact contents, but he guessed it was something along the lines of not harboring any guilt.

That seemed fitting for someone like Seonyul, who was both kind-hearted and principled.

In addition, there was a rumor circulating among the employees about Kim Jungha, who was once engaged to Han Doha.

A video surfaced on a foreign website showing Kim Jungha throwing water and acting aggressively toward a man.

Naturally, it caused an uproar.

Because the video was on an international platform, it took time to get it removed.

During that time, the footage spread widely, and the story was blown out of proportion.

Those in the industry dismissed it as a rumor that would die down soon.

Every conglomerate family had a troublemaker, and these scandals often disappeared under the weight of money.

The real issue came next.

Almost as if on cue, a whistleblower reported financial irregularities at KG Group to the prosecutors.

The tip-off came from KG Chemical, a subsidiary known for being a financial burden due to its large deficits.

With the public’s attention focused, an investigation was inevitable.

When they looked into it, it was a mess.

What appeared to be simple reverse accounting fraud to inflate future profits was, in reality, a meticulously planned financial scam.

Fake transactions had been used to inflate expenses far beyond actual revenue.

Kim Jungha, listed as the CEO of KG Chemical, had not only mortgaged his personal assets but also secured blank promissory notes and bonds, using them as collateral to get loans for various affiliated dealers.

He had leveraged every possible asset.

Naturally, this wasn’t something Kim Jungha could have done alone.

It led to a full-scale raid of the entire KG Group.

Even now, they remain under investigation, with every new court ruling making headlines.

Right before Yeonjae left Reed Construction, he had worried about potential fallout for the company, but he was puzzled by CEO Han Doha’s relaxed demeanor.

Despite now overseeing the entire Daewon Group, including Reed Construction, he seemed indifferent, almost as if he were watching a fire from the safety of the opposite riverbank.

He even seemed to be in a good mood.

-If I had meddled on my own, he would’ve been furious.

It was odd, hearing him mutter this while reading the morning paper.

Back then, the entire secretarial team, including Yeonjae, had eyed him suspiciously, but CEO Han Doha just smiled quietly, as if he knew exactly who was behind it all.

-Well, it’s all over now. I won’t be going back to Reed Construction anyway…

Clearing his head, Yeonjae diligently checked the report for typos.

The document was filled with photos of a model currently rising in popularity.

Well, not just rising—this model was already highly sought after.

Despite numerous conditions, many people wanted to work with this model.

The person only appeared from behind and was known for keeping their face and voice hidden during shoots.

The model always had a female companion and had an ambiguous affiliation, yet their portfolio and concept shots kept surfacing regularly.

There was even a widely circulated story about a well-known magazine reaching out for an interview, only to be firmly rejected.

Initially, Yeonjae didn’t understand the hype over a model who only showed their back, but upon seeing the photos filling the report, he found himself gulping involuntarily.

Was it a woman?

A man?

Or perhaps an omega, an alpha, or a beta?

The ambiguity only added to the allure.

Underneath the short hair, the nape of the neck was exposed, leading to a black knit sweater with an open back laced with crisscross ribbons, highlighting the pale skin.

With arms crossed as if hugging themselves, thin fingers rested on the dark knit fabric.

The delicate curve of the back drew his gaze irresistibly.

-Last time it was a sheer shirt, and now it’s a knit sweater…

If the type of outfit emphasizes the back, whether it’s underwear or regular clothing, this model was always chosen.

There was even an article once about a sheer shirt he wore, after an idol was seen wearing it on a music show.

Come to think of it, it was rather surprising—how did he become a model based solely on his back view?

As far as Jo Yeonjae knew, there was one other person like that.

Back when he was on the TF team at Reed Construction, there was Seonbi, who had to step in as a temporary model due to an emergency.

Remembering that brief encounter, Jo Yeonjae chuckled at the ridiculous thought and refocused on his writing.

---

It had been a long time since I stepped into the company.

I couldn’t help but feel tense. Rubbing my reddened ear tips, I scanned my employee ID at the security gate.

What if it didn’t work? Fortunately, it still functioned without issue.

Typically, when you leave a job, you have to return your ID, or at the very least, its access and additional functions are deactivated.

But it seemed Doha hadn’t done that, as if he believed I’d come back one day.

I awkwardly pressed the elevator button.

I worried that someone might recognize me on the way in, so I wrapped my scarf even tighter.

But people were too busy living their own lives to pay me any attention.

After eight years as a secretary here, I had only been gone for four months.

The realization left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth—should I consider it a good thing?

Even as I scanned my ID and pressed the button for the 32nd floor executive office, my heart felt strange.

The elevator glided up smoothly, but my heartbeat kept pounding wildly.

I pushed back my sleeve to check the time. 6:30 AM. Reed Construction’s secretarial team usually started at 8, so I was here early.

I stepped off the elevator, hoping the company’s schedule hadn’t changed.

As expected, the area was empty.

I walked past the silent reception desk with steady strides.

My head was buzzing with thoughts until the moment I entered the executive office, but being back made me feel strange.

It felt like returning to work after a long vacation.

No, that’s not right—I had quit, hadn’t I? I wasn’t an employee here anymore.

Standing by the window, now bathed in the faint dawn light, I scanned the room with my eyes.

It looked exactly the same as when I left it, like time had rewound itself.

* * *