Finally, Shin spoke again, tone mild but edged.
"If you have concerns, direct them to me. My fiancée doesn't require external guardians."
Xian held his gaze a second longer before looking at Yeri instead.
"I meant what I said," he told her quietly. "If you ever need help, you know how to contact me."
Yeri's thoughts tangled quietly.
Was Xian Song truly concerned about her or had he just planted a spark in dry grass?
Telling her to contact him if she was in trouble, and doing so in front of Shin Keir no less. Was that reassurance, or was it an attempt to sow discord?
Sensing the air thickening by the second, Yeri shifted slightly and looked up at Shin.
"We should head back," she said gently. "Carpet needs to rest, and he has to take his medicine in the next hour."
As if on cue, Carpet gave a small, oblivious wiggle.
Shin did not immediately respond. His gaze remained on Xian, cool and layered with meaning.
"If you're going to worry about someone, you should worry about your brother. He certainly has nerves of steel."
Xian's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. He understood exactly what Shin was implying.
A calculated attachment with an old woman. Advancement disguised as devotion.
Shin rose without another word, his hand naturally guiding Yeri up with him.
Xian remained where he was, watching them leave.
The smile on his face had long since vanished.
---
Inside the car, the silence was suffocating.
Yeri could feel the pressure radiating from Shin like invisible gravity, pulling the atmosphere tight.
She knew he had people following her ever since the Madam Nafplion incident. So she did not ask how he had appeared so suddenly. The answer was obvious.
"Xian used to be my childhood neighbor," she began lightly. "I didn't even know he was from the Song family until today."
Shin's eyes remained forward. "Hmm."
Yeri glanced at him and decided to shift the topic.
"Carpet's appetite has been better lately. The vet said his recovery is faster than expected but he still couldn't attend our engagement party since it might stress him."
"Hmm."
Another one. Flat, impossible to decipher.
Yeri "..."
Irritation pricked at her composure. She had done nothing wrong and she had a clear conscience.
If anything, she had been the one caught between verbal artillery.
Fine.
Yeri leaned back against her seat and simply stared out the window, deciding she would not continue talking to a man who had reduced his vocabulary to a single syllable.
The car drove on in heavy quiet.
Carpet, blissfully unaware of emotional warfare, let out a small contented sigh and fell asleep.
They arrived at the penthouse not long after.
The moment they stepped inside, Shin removed his coat and said casually, "Our engagement is in three days. Have you taken leave from school?"
Yeri slipped off her shoes and replied without looking at him, "Hmm."
A faint pause followed.
Shin turned slightly. "Are there any other preparations that haven't been settled?"
Yeri considered answering him with another "hmm" just to mirror his earlier performance. The temptation was strong. But with their engagement so close, she did not want to start a pointless cold war.
"I have my final dress fitting this afternoon," she said instead. "Just to confirm the sizing. After that, everything should be ready."
Shin seemed to think for a moment. "I'll have the designer come here instead."
Yeri did not see an issue with that arrangement. It was efficient and 'very him.'
She nodded. "Alright."
Shin checked his watch and added, "I still have matters to settle at the company."
Then he left.
The door closed with a soft click.
Yeri stood in the quiet penthouse, feeling that something was slightly off. She could sense his mood earlier in the car, but if he did not want to speak about it, what could she do? Force him?
After a while, boredom crept in.
Milk tea suddenly sounded like an excellent life decision. She imagined curling up on the sofa with Carpet and watching a movie, the world reduced to sugar and fiction.
With that thought, she grabbed her wallet and headed for the elevator.
She pressed the button but it didn't open. She pressed it again, still nothing.
A third time, just silence.
A faint crease formed between her brows.
As far as she knew, they were the only residents on this floor. Was there a technical issue? Maintenance? A power fluctuation?
She glanced down the hallway, half expecting someone to appear, obviously, no one did.
Maybe the emergency staircase?
Yeri walked toward it, pushed the door handle only to realise it was locked.
Yeri stared at it foolishly.
Locked?
Puzzlement slowly gave way to unease.
She returned inside and went straight to the telephone. The receptionist was on speed dial.
The line connected after two rings.
"Hello?" A male voice.
"Yes, the elevator on this floor isn't working," Yeri said calmly. "And the emergency staircase is locked."
There was a brief, strange silence on the other end.
Then the man spoke.
"Miss Zhi… the boss instructed us not to let you leave without him knowing."
Yeri blinked. Miss Zhi...
So he knew exactly who she was. More importantly… what did he just say?
"I'm sorry?" she replied slowly. "What do you mean?"
"The boss said not to let you out."
Her mind went blank for a second. Not to let her out?
The words echoed in her head, heavy and absurd.
Is this forced confinement? For what? Had she heard wrong?
"Which boss?" she asked carefully, though she already knew the answer.
The man's tone remained flat. "Young Master Keir."
Silence swallowed her.
It took a few seconds for the meaning to fully settle. The elevator, the locked stairs and the deliberate instruction.
"Is the world ending outside?" she asked dryly. "What exactly is going on?"
There was hesitation this time, a subtle discomfort.
"Miss Zhi," the man said, sounding like he wanted to be anywhere but in this conversation, "it would be better if you contact Young Master Keir directly."
And just like that, the line felt colder than before.
Yeri was so furious she was practically grinding her teeth into powder as she called him.
Was he bipolar? Did his moods swing like a chandelier in a storm? Or was he simply trying to provoke her on purpose?
The instant the call connected, she launched her attack.
"What do you mean I can't go out?" she demanded without preamble. "Is there a lunatic outside waiting for me with a knife? Is it going to rain money and you just don't want to share?"
Her voice crackled with indignation, sharp enough to slice glass.
Unfortunately, the person on the other end cut in gently, almost apologetically.
"Miss Zhi, this is Secretary Yun. The boss is currently in an important meeting."
Silence.
If this had happened before, Yeri would never have dared to disturb him. She would have swallowed her temper and waited patiently.
But now? Now her thoughts were ablaze.
How did Shin's personal phone end up in his secretary's hands? Did he not have a mouth of his own? Was it truly so difficult to tell her they could speak later?
"I need to speak to him," Yeri insisted, trying to restrain the heat in her voice. "Please pass the phone to him."
"I'm very sorry," Secretary Yun repeated with professional smoothness. "I'll relay your message."
The call ended.
Yeri stared at the screen as if it had personally betrayed her.
She began pacing, huffing and puffing like a kettle left too long on the stove, circling the living room and stomping her feet in restless frustration.
The air itself seemed too small to contain her irritation.
She knew this had something to do with what happened earlier with Xian Song.
But why vent it on her?
Was he angry because she had coffee with an old friend? Or because that old friend happened to be a Song?
Had he overheard Xian mentioning the past and decided he didn't like the sound of it?
The more she tried to untangle it, the tighter the knot in her chest became.
It wasn't as if she had hunted Xian down but rather he had approached her.
She couldn't exactly clamp a hand over his mouth and drag him away mid-sentence.
And even if there was something to discuss, couldn't they talk about it like adults?
That afternoon, the designer arrived with bright enthusiasm, assistants in tow, garment bags rustling like ceremonial banners.
The gown was unveiled with reverence, layers of fabric cascading in a whisper of luxury.
Yeri forced herself to steady her mood.
The mirror reflected a vision of elegance, but her heart remained stubbornly unmoved.
It was nothing like the last fitting she had with Nina.
Then an idea suddenly crossed her mind.
Just as the designer and his assistants began packing up, she casually slipped on her shoes and followed them toward the door.
"I'm heading out as well," she said lightly.
No one objected. Why would they? To them, she was the pampered young lady of the house, the future Young Madam Keir, not a gilded bird in a carefully guarded cage.
The door opened and two bodyguards stood outside.
Yeri's smile faded instantly.
She attempted to follow the designer toward the elevator with practiced nonchalance, but the men stepped forward in silent coordination, blocking her path.
Their expressions were stern, but their voices remained polite.
"I'm sorry, Miss Zhi, but you cannot leave this floor."
"If there's anything you need, we can get it for you," the other added respectfully.
The designer froze mid-step. Confusion flickered across his face, followed by the unmistakable discomfort of someone who had just stumbled into a private battlefield.
He sensed something was wrong, but prudence stitched his lips shut.
No one with sense meddled in the affairs of the powerful, especially not when the name Shin Keir hovered like a silent decree.
Yeri looked at him, but he could only return an apologetic glance before retreating with his team.
After all, the bodyguards had not touched her. They had not raised their voices. Despite their imposing builds and immovable stance, they treated her with courtesy.