"This is a premium property," Mr. Nam said carefully. "The demand for land here is immense. Major industrialists are lining up for sites like this. Even if you had waited two more years, the value would have doubled. Also, you belong to the Kim family, and Mirae Cosmetics is one of the wealthiest companies in the country… yet you chose to sell such a valuable asset just to arrange some funds?"
Suho let out a soft chuckle, more amused than offended by the sincerity in the question.
"I run Mirae Cosmetics, Mr. Nam," he replied calmly, "but I don't own it. My harabeoji is its heir. Being born into the Kim family doesn't give me the right to use his wealth for my personal reasons."
He paused, his tone steady but firm. "This property was bought with my own savings. I earned it myself. So I also have the right to sell it whenever I choose, for reasons that matter to me. And right now, I need the money for very specific personal reasons. That's all there is to it."
Mr. Nam stared at him for a moment, disbelief flickering across his face, as if silently asking, Is he serious?
Suho noticed and laughed lightly."Whatever you're thinking, Mr. Nam, yes, it would be easy. Of course, I could do it differently. But I don't want to. I believe in earning my own bread and spending my own money."
He glanced at his watch, then smiled."Anyway, let's go. It's already late. You'll receive your revised commission by tomorrow evening."
He took a step forward, then turned back as if remembering something."And Mr. Nam… there's another property. My penthouse. There's no urgency, but if you come across a really good deal, let me know."
"Yes, Mr. Kim," Mr. Nam replied with a smile.
Yet even as they walked away, his eyes lingered on Suho, watching him with quiet admiration.
Later that night, Suho spoke to Kevin about the properties and the funds while driving back to the penthouse. By the time he reached home, it was already late.
The lights were still on.
A soft smile curved his lips. She's waiting.
Just as he expected, the moment his car rolled in, her shadow appeared near the entrance, moving toward the door. He chuckled quietly. He knew her too well.
He stepped out of the car, locked it, and looked at her standing there, eyes fixed on him.
"You're still awake, Jagi?" he asked.
She crossed her arms lightly. "You said you'd be late, Mr. Kim. But not this late."
He laughed under his breath, walking closer. "I'm sorry… I got caught up in something really important."
"Did you eat?" she asked, concern slipping past the complaint.
"No," he replied easily. "But if my Hauenie makes ramen with two eggs, I won't say no."
She smiled at that, the tension melting away. "Come."
Her fingers curled around his hand and tugged him inside.
Suho followed her without resistance, smiling to himself.
After freshening up, he walked toward the kitchen and stopped mid-step.
She was standing there, cooking ramen for him. At this hour. Sleeves rolled up. Hair tied loosely. Completely unaware of how deeply she was anchoring him to this world.
His heart skipped, then raced, thoughts spiraling.
He looked around the house. Every corner carried the lingering scent of her presence. The faint hum of her laughter, the soft shuffle of her steps... every corner of this house seemed alive because of her. She didn't just occupy the space, she filled it, made it warm, made it home.
He watched her, suddenly overwhelmed by a tide of emotions, pain tangled with longing, joy laced with an ache. He's going to miss this… all of this. Every little thing they had built together, every quiet moment, every shared smile.
Slowly, he walked toward her, each step measured, deliberate, savoring the sight of her. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her close. Letting himself be grounded in her warmth.
She leaned back slightly, smiling into his embrace. "What happened, Teddy?"
"I missed you," he murmured, voice low, soft.
She chuckled against him. "Already?"
"Hmm," he hummed softly, tightening his hold just a little.
Her eyes flicked to his with a teasing glint. "Wanna eat dirty ramen?" she whispered, a mischievous tilt to her voice.
He broke into a soft laugh at her sudden teasing and pinched her waist lightly. She yelped in surprise.
"Are you not enough of the dirty stuff?" he asked, grinning.
She giggled, "I was thinking about you… you said you missed me," she defended, her voice playful but warm.
He chuckled softly. "I can manage that with holy ramen, too. I don't need dirty stuff every time I miss you," he teased, eyes gleaming.
She turned to him slowly, utterly offended. "Oh. Really?" Then, with dramatic authority, "Fine. I'm banning you from touching me for one whole month. No touching. No kissing. Not even back hugs. You miss me? Eat ramen." She pushed him away with a huff. "Now get off."
He burst out laughing, instantly reaching for her again. "Yaa, hajima! That's not what I meant," he said, catching her wrist gently before she could escape. "I meant whenever I miss you, I can survive by eating ramen you cooked… while cuddling you like this." He tightened his arms around her as he defended himself.
She shot him a playful glare, lips pressed tight for exactly two seconds before it melted. He stole a quick peck, sweet and apologetic.
"Okay," she sighed theatrically. "I'm forgiving you."
He smiled, shaking his head, completely undone by her.
The ramen was ready. They ate the ramen like that, bickering, laughing, stealing bites from each other's bowls. The night softened around them. Later, she stood at the sink washing dishes, movements calm and familiar.
And that was when the silence grew heavy.
Suho leaned against the counter, watching her. His chest felt tight again. When he had made the decision, it had felt clean, precise, necessary. A straight road after chaos. But now, standing here, watching her rinse a bowl like nothing in the world was wrong… his courage began to fray.
How do I say it?
What if she gets hurt?
What if she smiles… but breaks inside?
What if she misunderstands why I did this?
Every possible reaction bloomed in his mind, one after another, gnawing at him. His jaw clenched. His fingers curled, then loosened again. The clarity he'd held onto all day wavered, replaced by unease.
She turned slightly, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Why are you standing like that?" she asked casually. "You look like you're about to confess to a crime."
He forced a small smile. "Do I?"
"Mm," she hummed, turning back to the sink. "You're too quiet. That's dangerous."
He swallowed.
She set the last bowl neatly on the rack, wiped her hands on the towel, and switched off the kitchen lights. The room slipped into a softer glow. With an easy smile, she walked up to him, fingers slipping into his.
"Come, Teddy," she smiled, holding his hand. "Let's sleep."
She tugged him gently toward the bedroom.
He didn't move.
She turned back, confused. "What happened?"
Suho stood there, unmoving. His face had gone still, too still. He swallowed, his throat dry, fingers tightening around hers before loosening again. A long breath left his chest, careful, measured, as if he was steadying himself against something unseen.
He lifted his eyes to hers.
"Hauena…" His voice came out low, serious, stripped of playfulness. "I need to tell you something."