* * *

After some hesitation, Jungyoon pressed the bell again.

When there was still no answer, he fidgeted nervously, standing awkwardly at the door.

He toyed with the card key still in his hand, eventually raising it to the door.

Just as he did, the door swung open.

Standing before him was Yoon Taerim, his shirt partially unbuttoned, exposing his chest.

“…Ah.”

Was it the suddenness of seeing his face or the disheveled state of his clothing?

Jungyoon felt his earlier resolve to stay composed crumble instantly.

While Jungyoon froze stiff, Yoon Taerim remained unperturbed.

He pushed the door wider and gestured with his chin.

“Come in.”

“…Excuse me.”

Jungyoon cautiously entered the suite.

This wasn’t the kind of hotel room he was familiar with.

Even the hallway past the entrance was enough to make him feel small.

As he walked down the corridor, Jungyoon realized for the first time they weren’t alone.

In what appeared to be a lounge, two adults—a man and a woman—were seated.

One of them was someone he recognized.

A lawyer, sorting through stacks of documents, straightened his posture and nodded in acknowledgment upon noticing Jungyoon.

Jungyoon returned the nod.

Before he could dwell on the encounter, Yoon Taerim’s broad frame blocked his view.

Checking his wristwatch, Yoon furrowed his dark eyebrows slightly.

“I apologize. I intended to finish before our meeting, but things are still unresolved. Could you wait a moment? It won’t take longer than ten minutes.”

“Of course. Please, take your time.”

“I’ll show you to a waiting room.”

A man, who had approached silently, introduced himself as Yoon Taerim’s personal assistant and offered to guide Jungyoon.

Jungyoon followed him through the expansive suite, marveling at its size and numerous rooms, though he tried to hide his surprise.

“This way, please.”

They arrived at a room resembling a study.

Dark bookshelves, a desk, dim indirect lighting, and a cabinet displaying bottles of whiskey and wine immediately caught Jungyoon’s attention.

“I’ll prepare something for you to drink. Any preferences?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Feel free to ask if you need anything.”

After a polite bow, the assistant left.

With the door closed, the study fell into a tranquil silence.

Jungyoon approached the window, gazing out at the night view of Seoul.

It was breathtaking, with twinkling city lights and the Han River meandering below.

He had heard the Royal Peak Hotel was renowned for its scenic views, and it certainly lived up to its reputation.

Lost in the sight, he almost forgot his earlier tension.

While he stood there for some time, a soft knock came at the door.

Turning his head, he saw the door open.

Yoon Taerim entered, now impeccably dressed with his tie neatly in place.

He crossed the room without hesitation, heading toward the cabinet of drinks.

The moment he entered, the atmosphere shifted.

Jungyoon’s eased nerves tightened once more, and the room felt heavy with his presence.

In the thick silence, only the sound of Yoon Taerim’s movements filled the air.

Seo Jungyoon stood by the window, unable to move or speak.

Yoon Taerim, perhaps noticing the awkwardness, turned his back to Jungyoon and scanned the display cabinet.

His voice, low and steady, broke the silence.

“Care for a drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Taerim didn’t insist.

He simply returned to selecting his own drink, wholly focused on his task.

Standing before the sleek wooden cabinet, Taerim’s figure was as captivating as the night view outside.

His height, significantly above that of an average man, and his well-proportioned limbs were impossible to overlook.

His broad, defined shoulders stretched his shirt in a way that bespoke a tailored fit.

Unlike the average white-collar worker, his solid physique hinted at disciplined care, with not a line or curve out of place.

Even his back was a sight to behold—like a living sculpture.

Each subtle motion, from picking a bottle to pouring and adding ice, revealed the shifting lines of his shoulder blades beneath his shirt.

His trim, athletic waist completed the image of someone who maintained meticulous control over himself.

Jungyoon caught himself watching, almost out of habit, as Taerim turned back, holding a round glass of whiskey in his hand.

He walked to a plush leather armchair and settled in comfortably.

Noticing the cue, Jungyoon followed and seated himself in the identical chair across from him.

“Do you live here?”

Jungyoon asked, breaking the silence.

To his surprise, Taerim’s lips curved into a slight smile, as if amused by the unexpected question.

“I haven’t found a place I like since returning to Korea. So, just for now.”

“I thought you had a family home.”

“At my age? Living with my parents isn’t exactly ideal.”

Well, he is a hotel CEO, thought Jungyoon.

Finding a place to sleep wouldn’t be an issue when there were plenty of vacant rooms at his disposal.

He nodded in agreement and reached into his bag.

Taerim’s gaze lingered curiously on Jungyoon’s pale hands as he pulled out a diary and pen.

“Handwriting your notes? That’s surprisingly old-school.”

“I usually use a recorder.”

Jungyoon opened the diary and casually replied, testing his pen’s ink flow on the corner of the page before speaking again.

“But I thought you might not prefer being recorded.”

The man across from him chuckled lightly, crossing his long legs and leaning back.

“Shall we begin, then?”

The low voice carried a tone of permission. Jungyoon took a deep breath.

Despite being no stranger to interviews, something about this moment felt daunting.

He tightened his grip on the pen and scanned his prepared questions, deciding to start with the basics.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-four, in Korean age.”

“And you’ve been living abroad until recently?”

“I lived in Korea until I was ten, then moved to the U.S. for school and work.”

“For someone who spent over twenty years overseas, your Korean is impeccable.”

“My family’s rules were strict. My grandfather said no inheritance for anyone with poor Korean skills.”

The conversation naturally drifted toward the topic Jungyoon was most curious about.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, he leaned in, pen poised.

“What’s your family like?”

“My grandfather has passed away. My parents are still together. Officially, I’m an only child.”

After a pause, Taerim sipped his drink.

The golden light reflecting off his smooth features mirrored the whiskey in his glass.

“That much you can find with a simple internet search. I’m sure there’s something more specific you’re curious about.”

“….”

“I have three half-siblings. Not listed on the family register, but we meet a few times a year.”

“Half-siblings?”

“They all have different mothers. It’s a typical chaebol story. Illegitimate children and all that. My father’s lovers, my mother’s numerous affairs—arranged marriages are only for appearances, after all.”

Taerim spoke about the tangled web of infidelity and family ties with remarkable detachment.

His tone was so matter-of-fact that even Jungyoon felt as if such chaos were ordinary.

“I’m surprised you get along with your half-siblings.”

“Did you expect inheritance disputes? Pettiness over greed?”

“Maybe.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but we get along just fine. They’re well-off enough on their own, and we were all raised to respect boundaries. If they acted out, they’d lose what they have—so none of us dare overstep.”

“Even with shared blood, there are invisible lines, I see.”

“Call them lines that must not be crossed.”

The faint clink of melting ice in Taerim’s glass punctuated the quiet moment.

* * *