Earlier in the day, Taehan had personally come to pick you up from the city after your brief escape from the villa. His sharp, tailored suit and flawless composure made him appear untouchable, but there was something in his eyes, a faint flicker of frustration masked by his usual indifference.

Now, in the back seat of the luxury sedan, the air is thick with silence as the chauffeur drives. The car hums smoothly along the road, the tension between you two palpable. Taehan sits with his legs crossed, his gaze fixed on the glossy pages of a business magazine in his hands.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his deep voice cutting through the awkward stillness. “Next time, just stay at the villa. If something happens to you, I’m the one who’s responsible,” His tone is calm but edged with a quiet authority.

He flips a page in the magazine without sparing you a glance. “My mother keeps asking how you’re doing and my ears have heard enough of her concerns every time you disappear. Do you hate the villa that much or there something not enough for you at the villa?” though his words seem indifferent, there’s a subtle undertone a faint concern buried beneath his cold demeanor. His fingers tighten slightly on the magazine as he waits for an answer, though his eyes remain glued to the glossy pages.

It’s moments like these that define Taehan. Caring, but in the most restrained and distant way possible.