The atmosphere at the table was tense. Keith came down a little later, having changed clothes, but the look on his face hadn’t improved. Charles, ever expressionless, stood ramrod straight as he attended to both Keith and Yeonwoo without a word.
“Ah, thank you.”
Yeonwoo gave a quick word of thanks to Charles, who had poured the maple syrup for him just before he reached out. He dipped a bite of pancake into the syrup and raised it to his mouth, glancing sideways at Keith. Since he’d come down, the man hadn’t looked at him even once.
Not that there was any reason to.
Bitter inside, Yeonwoo quietly picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. That was when Keith suddenly spoke.
“What time was Grayson supposed to get here?”
Yeonwoo hesitated. He reflexively looked up, but Charles answered in his place.
“He’ll arrive at five o’clock. The other guests should be arriving around then as well.”
Only then did Yeonwoo understand the situation. There was going to be a gathering or a party at the estate. In these cases, Charles was the one who took full charge of planning everything, so it was rare for Yeonwoo to be involved unless specifically instructed. If not for this unexpected situation, he would’ve been waking up in his narrow, shabby rental room by now, digging around in the fridge for anything edible.
You really never know how life is going to turn out.
He lowered his eyes and pretended to focus on his eggs. Whatever Keith had planned for his day off had nothing to do with him if no specific orders had been given.
Still, the mention of Grayson visiting the estate stuck in his mind. Did Grayson know he was staying here?
He thought of Miller’s striking, mask-like face, but quickly brushed the thought aside. Grayson wasn’t what mattered. If there were “other guests,” then it was clearly some sort of gathering.
The sudden memory of the yacht party sent a shiver down his spine. Even back then, when Keith had left him in charge of preparations, he hadn’t explained the purpose of the event. At best, he’d mentioned vague reasons like “networking” or “business.” Yeonwoo would then ask about the guest list, whether anything special needed to be prepared, or whether there were any points of caution—and carry out the rest by guessing as best he could. But this time, he wasn’t involved at all. He had no way of knowing the party’s purpose. Besides, it didn’t fall under the types of events included in the conditions of his employment. There was no reason for him to be told anything.
That was how he’d let his guard down last time and ended up in that situation.
The memory he’d pushed away came back to him. Grayson had been the only one to warn him—as though he’d known something like that was going to happen. He’d even been the one to pull that man off of him that night.
So then why hadn’t he said anything?
Keith had done exactly what he always did. That was nothing new. But Grayson’s behavior didn’t sit right with him. He seemed like he’d been concerned—and at the same time, like he’d purposely looked the other way.
His thoughts grew more tangled, and before he realized it, his brow furrowed. That was when the sound of a chair moving pulled him back. He looked up without thinking—Keith had gotten up and was walking away. Yeonwoo was left alone in the dining room. He quickly resumed eating the rest of his food, rushing now that he was the only one left. As he finished, Charles returned from clearing Keith’s dishes and spoke.
“Would you like more coffee?”
Yeonwoo shook his head. Without another word, Charles silently filled his empty juice glass with more orange juice. He wiped off the dribble of liquid that had run down the outside of the bottle with a cloth and, as if remembering something, opened his mouth.
“Today’s gathering is just a routine one for Mr. Pittman, but some of the guests may cause discomfort for you, Yeonwoo. The reception will be held in the drawing room. If you find the pheromones difficult to tolerate…”
He trailed off. He looked pensive, letting out a thoughtful hum—but there was probably no real solution. Leaving the estate was a risk. Yeonwoo didn’t have the nerve to try it. But at the same time, the thought of locking himself in his room and possibly suffering a reaction to someone else’s pheromones terrified him. He was stuck either way.
“…I’ll take a walk in the garden.”
He squeezed the words out, forcing himself to come up with at least one option. A flicker of something passed across Charles’s face—almost like sympathy. But it was gone in an instant, so fast he wasn’t even sure he’d seen it.
What did I just see?
He blinked, wondering if he’d imagined it. Charles spoke again, face blank as always.
“Please don’t forget your phone. Once the guests have left, I’ll air out the room thoroughly and contact you. You have my number, don’t you? If you can’t reach me, please call Emily instead. I’ll write down her number for you.”
He immediately pulled a fountain pen and a slip of paper from his breast pocket, jotted down a number with practiced ease, and slid it across the table to Yeonwoo. Yeonwoo picked it up and murmured his thanks. As he did, Charles recapped the pen and tucked it back into his uniform before continuing.
“I’ll prepare some light refreshments and drinks. Is there anything specific you’d like?”
Yeonwoo considered it, but nothing came to mind. He was still full. As he hesitated, Charles added that Yeonwoo could let him know later if he thought of anything, and then excused himself. Left alone again, Yeonwoo resumed his meal. A slow, quiet stretch of time passed in solitude.
***
“If it’s all right with you, would you prefer to rest in one of the empty rooms? They’re staff quarters, technically.”
Emily’s suggestion made it hard for Yeonwoo to hide his relief.
“There’s a place like that?”
She nodded, her face brightening.
“The detached wing out back is for the staff. Whenever there’s a party or some other special event, we always keep a few rooms ready for temporary workers. They’re cleaned daily, so that new hires can settle in right away. If you don’t mind that kind of thing, I think it’d be okay for you to use one.”
“Oh, of course. If I can, I’d be really grateful.”
He hurried to thank her, and Emily responded with a kind smile.
“I manage the detached wing, so Charles probably didn’t think of it. This worked out well—there’s a vacant room on the first floor, the third one down. The key should be hanging by the front entrance. They’re in order, so just grab the third one. I’ll contact you once everything’s wrapped up over here. Hopefully it doesn’t run too late.”
She added the last part with a worried look, and Yeonwoo replied with a simple, “Thank you.” Just imagining himself wandering the garden aimlessly had been making him anxious. The garden was spacious—taking a full lap at a normal pace would only take two hours—but it wasn’t like he could just keep walking the whole time. Having somewhere to sit down and rest was a relief.
What could he do to kill time?
The unexpected stretch of freedom made him momentarily unsure. Maybe he could use this chance to read something. He wasn’t the type to read often, but lately he hadn’t been reading at all.
Come to think of it—
Keith’s library came to mind. When Yeonwoo had first arrived at the estate, Charles had given him a personal tour of the house. That was how he learned there was a library. He hadn’t gone inside at the time, but he remembered the glimpse he caught from the hallway—wall-to-wall shelves packed with books.
Without wasting time, he left his room. There was still some time before Grayson or the other guests were set to arrive, but he didn’t want to dawdle and end up rushing later.
The library was located somewhere between Keith’s room and his own. As he passed by, his gaze flicked automatically toward Keith’s door—then he jerked his head away. What did it matter what that man was doing right now? He had enough on his own plate. Trying to shake off the pull toward Keith, Yeonwoo ducked into the library.
“Ah…”
An involuntary sound escaped him at the sight that met his eyes. The ceiling was unexpectedly high. The ladder propped proudly against one wall made it clear the books weren’t just for decoration. From the outside, the estate’s sharply peaked roof had always stood out—this was probably why. The inner ceiling formed a rounded dome, while the exterior resembled the gothic spires of a cathedral.
Sunlight streaming in from the high windows lit up one side of the bookshelf. Yeonwoo stared vacantly at the dust drifting in the air, then shook his head quickly.
What should he read?
There were so many books that he felt overwhelmed, unable to make a decision. But as he wandered along the shelves in hesitation, he gradually picked up on the organizational pattern.
These must be the classics.
He looked around for the modern literature section. Once he found it, he had to decide which author to read.
What made it difficult was that works by the same author were sometimes grouped together—novels and poetry collections side by side—and sometimes separated. Some books had duplicate copies as well, which made it hard to find what he wanted unless he already had a basic understanding of the layout or the titles.
The duplicate copies seemed to differ by publication year or translation. But Yeonwoo had no idea which version would suit him better.
In the end, the book he pulled out after much consideration was a novel by a German author that had been adapted into a film. He’d really enjoyed the movie and had thought about reading the novel afterward, but the thought had been buried under the weight of daily life.
So this is what he looks like.
He glanced at the author’s photo and felt a quiet sense of affection. A smile formed unconsciously on his lips—until he snapped out of it. When he checked the clock, over an hour had passed. If he dawdled any longer, he’d be late. He hurriedly stepped out into the hallway.
“Yeonwoo.”
He turned at the sound of his name and saw Charles approaching. Facing him, Charles spoke in his usual detached tone.
“Are you all right? It’s nearly time.”
“Oh, yes—I was just about to head out.”
Charles looked at the book in Yeonwoo’s hands, then gave a nod as if everything now made sense.
“I heard from Emily that you’ll be resting in the detached wing. If it gets late, we’ll bring dinner to you there.”
“Thank you.”
Yeonwoo gave a quick bow and walked off in haste, nearly fleeing. Time was running short.
***
After somehow making his escape to the empty room in the detached wing, Yeonwoo collapsed onto the vacant bed, finally exhaling the breath he’d been holding in. The room smelled faintly of dust, like it had been unoccupied for quite a while. He would have to wait here, aimless, for several hours. The very thought left him feeling stifled.
Lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, he felt an odd emptiness open up somewhere in his chest. He eventually pulled out the book and opened it, but couldn’t absorb a single word.
France, eighteenth century. A man lived...
He reread the same line several times. The text drifted in front of his eyes, never sinking in.
***
♪♪♩♬♬♬♩♪……
The sound of a ringtone pulled him out of sleep. He blinked blankly from where he lay, only realizing what had happened after a moment. He quickly checked the screen—Emily.
“Ah, I’m sorry, Emily. Has everything finished?”
He apologized in a rush. She chuckled.
[You answered late, so I figured you might have fallen asleep. Bored, weren’t you?]
Since that was exactly what had happened, Yeonwoo felt embarrassed. Thinking about how busy she must’ve been receiving guests made him feel even worse.
“I’m fine. …Have the guests left? Should I head back to the main house now?”
[Yes, it’s fine now. We’re still cleaning up a bit, so it might be messy.]
Then she seemed to remember something.
[Ah, right. You haven’t had dinner yet, have you? Should I bring something over to your room?]
He couldn’t possibly trouble her that far. Yeonwoo quickly declined.
“I’ll fix something for myself. Don’t worry about it, Emily. Thank you.”
He added a word of thanks, and Emily wrapped up the conversation and hung up. It was already completely dark outside. The guests had probably had dinner before they left, right? Everyone must have been busy.
Even if it hadn’t been his job, the fact that he’d slept through it all left him feeling guilty.
I should at least help with cleaning.
Thinking that, he quickly straightened his clothes and gathered his things—not that he had much, just a single book and his phone.
The detached wing was quiet, with no one in sight. Most likely, everyone was still at the main house helping with cleanup. Yeonwoo tried to picture where people would be, doing his best to avoid getting in the way.
Visualizing the flow of movement wasn’t hard. He considered what path the guests would have taken.
Reception in the drawing room, dinner in the dining hall, then maybe tea in the tearoom?
If so, then the busiest place now would be the kitchen.
He thought of Charles and Emily—always quick to turn down his offers to help—and figured this time would probably be the same. Still, he decided to at least ask.
The only light in the garden came from the estate, but it was enough. The lights from the main house spilled into the garden, even brightening parts of the detached wing. Yeonwoo stepped forward with determination. First, he’d return the book.
……
A sudden, unsettling sound made him freeze. Even before he could identify it, dread crawled down his spine. It’s just the wind, he told himself, trying to stay calm. Slowly, he turned around.
What first came into view was the dark, sprawling garden. He reflexively checked the path he’d come from—
then slowly lowered his gaze.
Not far away, something stood, baring its teeth, its whole body tensed toward him.
A Rottweiler.
A massive fighting dog he’d only ever seen in pictures was now growling at him. Yeonwoo froze, eyes wide. What the hell was this? Why was a dog like that here? Did one of the guests bring it? But Emily said the guests had all left.
A thousand thoughts shot through his head, but none of them mattered. None of them helped in this moment.
I need to call for help.
He managed to open his mouth. But no sound came out.
If I don’t scream—
A wave of panic hit him. Would anyone hear him? How long would it take for them to come? What if they didn’t find him until after everything was over?
He imagined himself sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, covered in blood. His eyes snapped open wide just as the dog lunged with a vicious bark. He curled up, arms over his head, brain blank with terror. The heavy weight of the beast crushed the air around him. He couldn’t even scream—he just froze.
Then, a sharp voice rang out, cutting through the night.
“Alex, stop!”
The massive body grazed his shoulder, veering off course. Yeonwoo staggered and dropped to the ground.
And just like that, the attack stopped.
He realized a beat later what had happened. Someone had called the dog off.
His mind was blank. He blinked in shock, watching the black dog run toward a figure not far away.
“Sit, Alex.”
The same voice as before. Cold as ice. The dog, now tame as a lamb, obeyed without hesitation. Yeonwoo dazedly looked up.
The man holding the leash was someone he recognized. The man recognized him too.
“Yeonwoo?”
He asked, smiling as if greeting an old friend.
“What are you doing out here?”
Grayson.
Yeonwoo sat on the ground, stunned, and looked up at the tall man towering over him.