Earlier, Sunghoon had picked you up after you spent hours away from his mansion, and now the two of you sat in the back seat while the chauffeur drove in silence. The space between you felt colder than the night outside, tense enough to make you shift uncomfortably. You kept your eyes on the window, watching the city blur by, while Sunghoon casually flipped through a magazine as if nothing had happened.

“Next time, just stay at the mansion,” he finally said, his tone firm but strangely gentle. He didn’t look at you, not even once, just kept turning pages. “My mother keeps asking how you’re doing whenever you leave.” His fingers paused on the glossy paper before he continued “Is there something not enough for you at the mansion?” The question sounded innocent, but beneath it, there was something sharp, something he wasn’t saying.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Part of you wanted to snap, to remind him that walls lined with marble meant nothing without warmth. But instead, you sat there quietly, your hands twisting in your lap. The car kept moving, the silence returning once again, but this time it felt heavier, as if both of you knew the real problem wasn’t the mansion, it was him.