After work, Keith dropped Yeonwoo off at the mansion and drove off straight to the hotel. It wasn’t unusual—but watching him leave made it hard to move his feet. The bitterness rooted him in place.
The rest of the evening unfolded just like always. Charles served dinner, and afterward, Steward came by for a counseling session.
“Let’s scale it back to twice a week now, and try focusing more on pharmaceutical treatment.”
As he said that, Steward pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket. It was the one he always handed over whenever Yeonwoo lost control.
“If you feel like an episode is coming on, take this. And if you still can’t calm down, take one of these, too.”
The second pill was something he’d never seen before. Turning it over curiously, Yeonwoo examined it from different angles. Steward clarified:
“This one’s only if the first doesn’t work. But if you can, avoid taking it. It’s strong—and that means stronger side effects. Start with the first, and if it doesn’t work, take the second only as a last resort. The most important thing is that you try to calm yourself down. And if you do take the second pill, call me. I’ll need to check on you and track how it affects you.”
Steward repeated the instructions with extra emphasis. Yeonwoo nodded and double-checked which pill came first.
“Hoo…”
As he inhaled deeply and let his shoulders rise with the breath, Steward gave him a dry smile and patted his shoulder. Yeonwoo flinched instinctively but didn’t freeze up like before. Steward nodded as if satisfied by the improvement.
After seeing Steward off, Yeonwoo returned to the sitting room. Alone again, he exhaled a long sigh. His thoughts wandered, empty and directionless, until a faint melody caught his ear.
At first, he didn’t even register what it was. His eyes blinked slowly as the sound drifted through the air—then realization struck. He fumbled for his phone and checked the caller.
Chase Miller’s manager.
“Hello, sorry for the late response. What’s going on?”
He quickly brought the phone to his ear and apologized. The voice on the other end replied:
[No, I should be the one apologizing for calling so late. I just needed to pass along something Chase said, and I figured it shouldn’t wait.]
“Yes, of course. Not a problem.”
Yeonwoo reached for a notepad. The manager let out a deep sigh—and Yeonwoo felt a sinking sense of dread.
[He’s not happy with the terms.]
Yeonwoo almost groaned aloud. He had forgotten—Chase Miller wasn’t the kind of person you could easily negotiate with. Reassigning a role might not seem like a big deal, but some actors were flexible, and some weren’t. Chase Miller absolutely wasn’t.
“He’s unhappy with the terms?”
Yeonwoo repeated the words, and the manager sounded uncomfortable on the other end.
[Yes. He says he wants out of the contract. Since your side changed the terms, he’s insisting there’s no fault on ours—]
“Wait, wait—hold on!”
Yeonwoo cut him off in a hurry.
“Didn’t we go over this during the call earlier? We explained the role change, you received the updated terms in writing, and we agreed to renegotiate afterward—”
[We did. But Chase is saying he doesn’t like the new terms, so what can we do?]
Another sigh filtered through the receiver. Yeonwoo fell silent. What exactly didn’t he like? The new offer was significantly better than the original. They’d held internal meetings just for this change, revised the contract with the legal team—all just to accommodate the switch.
The script change had gone through without much pushback. But internally, no one could understand why Chase Miller had been demoted to a supporting role. Among the board, there had been quiet discontent. Still, no one dared question Keith Knight Pittman.
Every choice Keith made proved itself right in the end. There was that one film where the ending—initially opposed by everyone—was later hailed as the greatest final scene of the year. He’d cast an unknown actor who turned into an overnight star. This time too, people didn’t quite believe it, but they followed him anyway.
They’d even increased Chase’s pay several times over to compensate for the change. Yeonwoo thought of the zeros piled up in the contract fee and added:
“Then please tell me what he wants. What exactly doesn’t he like? What does he want changed?”
There was no answer. Yeonwoo waited patiently.
[Well,] the manager finally said, [he said he wants to talk in person. He’s asking to set up a meeting.]
“Haa…”
A long, audible sigh escaped Yeonwoo’s lips. Stars pulling power plays to pressure production wasn’t rare in this industry. But to pull this kind of arrogance on Keith Knight Pittman—was that something Chase could do only because he was a Miller?
“Understood. I’ll report this to Mr. Pittman, but I can’t guarantee he’ll accept it.”
[Fair enough.]
The voice on the other end accepted the warning with a tired tone. He sounded just as beaten-down as Yeonwoo felt. It made Yeonwoo wonder—were all Apex Alphas this lacking in basic decency?
“Haa…”
Another sigh escaped just as he heard the faint sound of a car approaching. Keith was returning. Yeonwoo stood and headed for the entrance.
When he opened the door, he saw Charles waiting below the steps, ready to receive him. The car approached from the roundabout path circling the small garden. As it came to a stop, Yeonwoo stood beside Charles.
Whitaker was the first out. He rushed to Keith’s door and opened it. Keith stepped out last. He lifted his head, spotted Yeonwoo, and paused. It was probably just a natural reaction to something unexpected. Still, Yeonwoo couldn’t help but think—was it really worth stopping just because he saw me?
He pushed the thought aside and waited for Charles to speak first.
“Welcome home. Shall I prepare your bath?”
Keith brushed past the butler without much interest, muttering, “No,” in a clipped tone. On nights like this, he usually showered beforehand. As expected, Keith offered no further comment as he passed and added indifferently:
“I’m good. Go ahead.”
Charles nodded and turned away. Keith walked straight toward Yeonwoo—or rather, Yeonwoo happened to be standing in the path he was walking.
Keith had a cigarette in his mouth, likely lit in the car. As he drew closer, the familiar scent of smoke reached Yeonwoo, faintly mixed with pheromones. He tried not to notice whatever traces of body wash might still linger. He knew full well he couldn’t control that.
Yeonwoo kept his eyes on Keith’s face. When they stood at the same level on the steps, Keith finally spoke.
“What?”
Still holding the cigarette between his lips, he asked the question. The cigarette bobbed with each movement of his mouth. Yeonwoo stared. For a moment, he had the stupid thought—what if he were the cigarette?
And just like that, he imagined the end. Tossed aside the moment he’d been used up.
Keith was still looking at him. That cool stare made Yeonwoo’s chest tighten. He forced himself to answer like always.
“I spoke with Mr. Chase Miller’s manager, but he said Chase isn’t satisfied with the terms and wants to discuss them in person.”
Keith’s brow twitched slightly. He removed the cigarette from his lips.
“Chase wants to meet with me?”
“Yes.”
Yeonwoo watched him carefully, nervous. What if he got angry? Keith was certainly capable of that. Yeonwoo quickly ran through backup plans in his head—how he might calm the situation down. Fortunately, Charles was there too; he could rely on his support if things escalated. He began to relax slightly—but then, surprisingly, Keith let out an irritated sigh instead.
With a motion of his long fingers, he brought the cigarette to his lips again, took a drag, then lowered it.
“When?”
“…Sorry?”
Yeonwoo caught himself answering stupidly again. Keith’s face darkened for real this time. Before that sharp temper could ignite further, Yeonwoo rushed to recite the schedule.
“They didn’t give a specific date or time, but… our next available slot is Tuesday at lunch.”
“Then set it for then.”
“…Understood.”
The exchange ended so easily it left Yeonwoo slightly dazed. He had fully expected Keith to explode—or at least react more dramatically. But it was over in an instant. Could Keith have already anticipated something like this?
By then, Charles had opened the front door and was waiting inside. Keith passed him as if it were the most natural thing in the world and headed in. Yeonwoo hurried to follow. Keith climbed the long staircase toward his bedroom. Since Yeonwoo’s room was close by, he ended up trailing behind him, unintentionally giving the impression that he was following on purpose.
Keith seemed to notice and paused briefly before turning around.
“Do you have something else to say?”
It had just been coincidence—but instead of explaining, Yeonwoo asked the question that had been bothering him.
“Um… what do you think Mr. Miller is after?”
He quickly added a justification.
“If you have a sense of it, I can prepare in advance. That would help move the contract forward.”
Keith responded without even a change in expression.
“It’s nothing.”
Yeonwoo barely stopped himself from blurting out What?—instead, his eyes went wide. Keith continued, sounding irritated.
“He just wants to piss me off. That’s the kind of person he is.”
“…I see…”
Yeonwoo tilted his head, puzzled. Keith pulled out another cigarette.
“Tell Grayson—”
But he broke off mid-sentence. Hearing Grayson’s name made Yeonwoo freeze as well, but this was still business. He waited silently for Keith to continue. After a short pause, Keith said:
“Never mind. Forget it.”
“…Understood.”
There was nothing else to say. They walked on in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing faintly through the hall. As they reached the second-floor corridor, Keith exhaled a long stream of smoke. Yeonwoo, without thinking, spoke up.
“Are you… tired?”
Keith glanced back over his shoulder. Yeonwoo instantly regretted the question—he had overstepped. He was about to change the subject, when unexpectedly, Keith answered.
“A little.”
Had work been that intense lately?
Yeonwoo studied Keith’s back as he continued walking. Come to think of it, Keith had seemed off recently. His responses were slower, he looked distracted, sometimes even vacant. It hadn’t seemed like something he could point out, but for Keith to admit it himself…
Yeonwoo tried to think of a reason but came up empty. Steward’s words crossed his mind—but he dismissed them. Keith wasn’t the type to suffer from pheromone overload. If anything, he’d been seeing Naomi more frequently than usual. Tonight was proof of that—he was just coming back from the hotel.
The bitter thought made Yeonwoo hesitate, then quietly speak.
“If it’s alright… would you like a massage?”
Keith froze—abruptly and awkwardly.
Slowly, he turned his head and looked Yeonwoo in the face. Heat surged to Yeonwoo’s cheeks in an instant.
“I, uh… I learned a bit while working part-time…”
Keith removed the cigarette from his lips. He exhaled lightly, then asked:
“Massage?”
“Yes.”
Yeonwoo nodded.
“I used to do it for work… to pay rent. I—I even have a certificate. If you’re worried I’m not good enough…”
Keith slowly brought the cigarette back to his lips. Just a few seconds passed while he exhaled, but the silence pressed down on Yeonwoo like a physical weight.
“Come to my room in ten minutes.”
Even though he’d heard the words clearly, Yeonwoo couldn’t believe his ears. The door shut softly behind Keith.
Ten minutes.
Yeonwoo had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from letting out a squeal.
Ten minutes was far too short a time to calm down.
He tried deep breathing several times. He tried singing the national anthem but forgot the lyrics halfway through and had to look them up online. Then he read a poem. Then he started breathing again. Every method he used to calm himself only left him more frenzied. When he finally checked the time, thirteen minutes had passed.
Of course it had to be thirteen.
A sick feeling settled in his stomach. He bolted from the room. At moments like this, he always remembered something Keith once said—and that memory made him check his appearance on the way out.
“What the hell is this? You look like a damn beggar.”
His chest ached at the memory, but he ignored it and made his way to Keith’s door. It was probably close to fifteen minutes now—he was five minutes late.
He took one more deep breath.
Knock knock.