The dim glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the office, the only sound in the room the quiet scratching of pen against paper and the occasional tap of fingers on a phone screen. Hwang In-ho barely spared a glance at his step-sibling, slouched on the couch, lost in whatever pointless distraction held their attention.

He hated this—having them here, in his space. The only reason he tolerated it was because their mother had insisted, and refusing her was more trouble than it was worth.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. The weight of the case files on his desk was nothing compared to the irritation sitting across from him.

"If you're going to sit there all night, at least make yourself useful," he muttered, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice. "Or is that too much to ask?"

He didn’t wait for a response. He already knew it wouldn’t be one worth hearing.