Ren wandered the mansion like a ghost.
After the strange note at breakfast and the CEO's disappearing act, he had nothing else to do. No job. No classes. No familiar streets.
He was alone in a palace that didn't feel like his.
His footsteps echoed down the hallways as he passed spotless rooms — a piano no one played, a study full of unopened books, vases probably worth more than his café's monthly rent. Everything looked perfect, yet hollow.
Does Li Zeyan even live here? Or does he just exist in it?
He ended up in the second-floor lounge, a sun-drenched room with floor-to-ceiling windows and velvet couches no one seemed to sit on.
Ren curled up by the window, sketchpad in hand, drawing whatever came to mind. Mostly shadows. Silhouettes. A locked door. A black suit. Eyes he couldn't stop thinking about.
Ugh. What am I even doing?This isn't a honeymoon. It's a trap.
By afternoon, curiosity got the best of him.
He passed the office door again — dark oak with silver trim, slightly ajar. Li Zeyan had said not to enter. But something about that half-open door felt like an invitation.
He pushed it open gently.
Inside was a sharp, minimal workspace. A large desk, two chairs, a towering bookshelf behind a sleek computer. Not a single paper out of place.
Ren stepped inside, careful not to touch anything.
On the shelf, something caught his eye: a leather photo album. It was old, bound in maroon leather with gold corners. Dusty, like it hadn't been touched in years.
Why would he keep something like this here?
He looked around. Still alone.
Gently, he opened the first page.
Black-and-white photos — a young boy with sharp eyes and a tight-lipped smile. Beside him, a woman in an elegant dress holding his hand.
Is this... Zeyan? And his mother?
The second photo was different.
The woman again, this time standing in front of the same black door from the east wing. She looked tense. Behind her was a man—broad-shouldered, expression hidden in shadow.
And written at the bottom, in fading ink:
"Before everything changed."
A chill crept down Ren's spine.
Suddenly—
Click.
The sound of a door closing made him jump. He slammed the album shut and shoved it back in place. His heart raced as footsteps echoed down the hallway.
He ducked out of the office just before Zeyan appeared at the end of the hall, coming from the main stairs.
"Exploring?" the CEO said flatly.
Ren forced a smile. "Just... trying not to get lost."
Zeyan said nothing. His eyes drifted toward the office door.
For a terrifying second, Ren thought he knew. But the man simply walked past.
"Dinner is at seven. Wear something decent."
Ren nodded quickly. "Got it."
That night, Ren couldn't focus on food.
He kept replaying the photos in his mind. The strange note. The black door. The family that no longer seemed to exist.
Li Zeyan barely spoke during dinner. Just quiet chewing, wine, and the occasional glance at his watch.
Finally, Ren couldn't take it anymore.
"Why did you really pick me?"
Zeyan didn't look up. "We've been through this."
"Yeah, but I want the real answer. There are literally thousands of people who would jump to be your fake husband."
The CEO finally raised his eyes, and for the first time, something shifted in them. Not coldness. Not annoyance.
Just... something distant. A memory maybe.
"Because you looked like someone I used to know."
Ren blinked. "What?"
But Zeyan had already stood, placing his napkin neatly on the table.
"Good night."
And once again, Ren was left alone with more questions than answers.