* * *

He was accustomed to working in the early hours, and midnight was often when he was most productive.

Jungyoon cautiously picked up the glossy hotel key and gripped it tightly before looking up at Yoon Taerim.

“What do you want me to do in return?”

Yoon Taerim’s eyes curved slightly at his earnest tone.

After lightly tapping his fingers on the table, he stood and walked over to a desk.

Opening a drawer, he retrieved several folders and placed them on the table, rotating them for Jungyoon to read easily.

“It’s the promotional plan starting next month.”

Jungyoon began reading the document slowly.

The title beneath the Royal Peak Hotel logo stood out: Elegant Retreat.

It was a package allowing unlimited access to four premium rooms, dining, and all other facilities within the hotel.

At hundreds of dollars per night, it seemed like a loss for the hotel, given the benefits provided.

“I’d like you to personally experience it and write an essay about it.”

Jungyoon frowned slightly at the conditions for promotional photos attached to the plan.

His already pale complexion seemed to lose even more color.

“Wouldn’t it be better to use someone with more influence for this kind of promotion?”

“I prefer sophistication. That’s what I want in the customers this promotion attracts.”

Yoon Taerim spoke with conviction.

Celebrities, influencers, and ostentatious figures—he despised them all.

With a faint, ambiguous smile, Yoon Taerim added, “If it’s you, I believe my time is well spent.”

---

Rain poured again.

The relentless downpour outside was fierce, yet Jungyoon’s studio remained serene.

He had been reading for three hours, reclining on his sofa, turning the pages of a worn-out novel.

The book’s tattered cover and yellowed, moisture-warped pages emitted a musty scent he loved.

Whenever his mind felt cluttered, he’d return to this book, savoring each passage despite having read it countless times.

But today, he couldn’t focus.

After re-reading the same page for what felt like an eternity, he closed the book and removed his glasses, setting them aside.

He reached under the sofa for the promotional folder he had tossed there earlier.

He scanned the plan once more.

A luxurious package far beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

Could he even enjoy it?

Could he write about it convincingly?

The photo requirement weighed heavily on him.

If his face were revealed, the attention would undoubtedly shift from his work to his appearance—a scenario he detested.

Being known as poet Seo Taeseon’s grandson was already burden enough.

Declining Yoon Taerim’s offer seemed like the right choice.

He sighed deeply, trying to clear his thoughts, but Yoon Taerim’s image lingered vividly in his mind.

Could he find someone else like him?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how high his expectations had risen after meeting Yoon Taerim.

Even if he sought alternatives, satisfaction seemed unlikely.

Unconsciously, the framework for his new protagonist was already forming.

From the moment he faced Yoon Taerim, he had begun shaping a character around him.

It had to be him—Jungyoon was determined to hear his story.

Lost in thought, his phone buzzed loudly, snapping him back to the present.

He reached for it, finding Jaehyuk’s name on the screen.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Jungyoon-ah.”

The voice on the other end sounded weary.

Jungyoon glanced at the wall clock. 2:30 a.m. It was late.

“Just got off work?”

“I’m so damn exhausted. This godforsaken company—hope it goes under.”

It wasn’t like Jaehyuk to complain.

He had mentioned being busy lately, barely having time to eat or even go to the restroom.

This was the first call Jungyoon had received in a while, likely squeezed in on his way home.

Looking at the promotional folder in his hand, Jungyoon remembered something.

Jaehyuk worked in the hotel’s strategy planning team.

Could he have been involved in this project?

“At least they’re paying you overtime, right?”

“Seo Jungyoon, you really don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

“What did I do?”

When he responded with a blank tone, Jaehyuk on the other end of the line let out a weary laugh.

He reminded Jungyoon that this was the time for comforting words, all while admitting he hadn’t really expected much anyway.

“Ah, I’m so unbearably exhausted. I just want to hug you and sleep, Jungyoon.”

“Come over.”

“Can’t. I have work at 7 AM tomorrow. As soon as I get to the studio, I’ll pass out and then have to leave right away again.”

Jaehyuk let out a long yawn, his fatigue audible even over the phone.

It carried over to Jungyoon, making him acutely aware of his weariness.

“…Hyung, you know…”

“Yeah?”

Seo Jungyoon opened his mouth as if to say something.

He considered bringing up his encounter with Yoon Taerim earlier that day but quickly decided against it.

‘I’ll talk about it to him once I’ve made a decision’, he thought, postponing the matter and steering the conversation elsewhere.

“It’s nothing. Just get home safely. It’s raining, so be careful driving.”

“Make sure you sleep soon too. Don’t stay up all night again.”

“Okay.”

After the brief call ended, Jungyoon slumped onto the couch.

He then flipped back to the first page of the project plan and began reading again.

It didn’t seem like sleep would come anytime soon.

It was shaping up to be another long, contemplative night.

---

Seo Jungyoon, a novelist taking a break, was the very picture of laziness.

His days mirrored those of an aimless loafer, spent meandering without any sort of plan.

Today was no different.

He didn’t wake up until well past noon.

Having slept crumpled on the couch the night before, his body ached all over.

He wasn’t one to wake easily, possibly due to low blood pressure.

Even after sitting up on the couch, his eyelids drooped as he nodded off.

Somewhere in the haze of his drowsiness, he heard the faint clatter of activity downstairs.

Only then did it dawn on him that today was Thursday—the day the housekeeper came.

Dragging himself downstairs, he found the middle-aged woman dusting the furniture.

She acknowledged him with a polite smile.

“Good afternoon. You’re awake?”

“Hello.”

Jungyoon’s voice was hoarse with sleep, his eyes barely open.

The housekeeper simply smiled at his grogginess.

She was a quiet woman, likely due to her years of experience working in wealthy households.

She stuck strictly to her tasks, avoiding unnecessary conversation.

Her visits were always efficient: one day a week, she’d clean the house, empty the trash, and sometimes even whip up a simple side dish if there were leftovers in the fridge.

She didn’t mind whether Jungyoon was awake or asleep, staying focused on her work.

This straightforward attitude suited Jungyoon perfectly, and they got along well.

“Did you do the laundry yourself?”

“Uh… yeah.”

After Kang Jaehyuk stayed the night, the bed linens had been left with clear traces of his presence.

Jungyoon had thrown them into the washing machine and then the dryer but forgotten to take them out.

How long had it been?

Over a week?

“The sheets were still damp in the dryer. They smelled a bit, so I rewashed them and hung them out to dry. Would it be okay if I cleaned the upstairs now?”

“…Sure.”

Embarrassed, Jungyoon’s face flushed at the thought of his forgotten laundry job.

The housekeeper’s adeptness at domestic tasks might have given her a clue about the situation.

He rubbed his reddened face and sighed quietly.

While she headed upstairs with cleaning supplies, Jungyoon shuffled into the kitchen.

As he brewed tea, he popped some bread into the toaster.

His movements were unenthusiastic but smooth, preparing a late breakfast with minimal effort.

He sat at the dining table with his modest meal.

Spreading jam on a piece of toast, he forced himself to eat.

Though his face betrayed no particular appetite, he chewed steadily, clearly enjoying the taste.

The jam, a gift from his editor, was an orange marmalade with chewy bits of peel that gave it an unusual flavor.

After swallowing the toast, he sipped his tea, soothing his dry throat.

As the jasmine tea’s fragrant petals unfurled, Yoon Taerim’s face floated into his thoughts.

“……”

Was it just a coincidence that jasmine tea had been served that day?

It had to be.

There was no way that man could know his tastes.

* * *