7

"Want to try the machine?" I asked, my voice smooth, almost casual.

Hyerin didn't answer right away. She stared at the pod in front of her, her eyes flickering toward the monitors displaying fluctuating vitals. The rhythmic hum of the machines filled the silence between us, a steady, artificial pulse.

Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides, as if debating something.

"Can I say no?" she finally asked. "Or at least… not yet?"

I tilted my head, watching her. She wasn't rejecting it outright—she was hesitating.

Interesting.

"Of course," I said easily. "I won't force you to do anything you don't want to."

She exhaled softly, relief flickering across her expression for a fraction of a second before it disappeared.

I glanced around the room, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows across the floor, the hum of machines persistent, almost oppressive.

"We can leave if you'd like," I added, pushing off the pod and stretching slightly. "The environment here isn't exactly friendly." My gaze drifted to one of the monitors where a student's vitals were dipping dangerously close to red before stabilizing again.

"Not even I feel comfortable here," I admitted, my voice quieter, more thoughtful.

Hyerin turned to me then, her eyes sharp, searching.

"You don't?"

I met her gaze, offering a small, almost amused smile. "Even I have my limits."

A pause.

Then, I extended my hand toward her, palm open, waiting.

"Shall we head back to my home?"

For a moment, she just looked at my hand. As if debating whether to take it, whether to trust me.

Then, slowly—deliberately—she placed her hand in mine.

Her grip was cool, steady. Not reluctant. Not weak.

I curled my fingers around hers, leading her toward the exit.

Manager Ha barely looked up as we passed.

But just as I reached the door, he muttered, "Don't get her involved too deep, Saehwa."

I paused, glancing over my shoulder.

"Who said she isn't already?" I replied, smirking, before pushing the door open and stepping out into the cold night air.

Hyerin didn't say anything.

But she didn't pull away either.

As we slipped into the quiet hum of the city, her fingers still resting lightly in mine, I realized something.

She wasn't just following me anymore.

She was walking beside me.

And this time, as I swung my leg over the motorcycle and started the engine, she didn't hesitate.

Hyerin slid onto the seat behind me, her movements smoother than before, more natural. The slight stiffness from earlier was gone.

And then—her arms wrapped around my waist.

Firm. Secure. Not hesitant this time.

The warmth of her touch pressed through the fabric of my hoodie, a stark contrast against the cool night air.

I let out a quiet chuckle, twisting the throttle. "Getting comfortable?"

"Just making sure I don't fall," she said flatly.

I smirked, amused. "Of course."

The engine roared to life beneath us, the vibrations thrumming through my hands as I accelerated forward. The city blurred past, streaks of neon cutting through the dark streets.

This time, she didn't flinch when we took sharp turns. She adjusted, moving with me instead of bracing against me.

She was learning.

The wind rushed past, carrying away the tension of the underground room we had just left. The hum of machinery, the sterile blue glow of the monitors, the quiet beep of unstable vitals—it all faded behind us.

For now, it was just this.

The steady grip around my waist. The cool night air. The quiet understanding that she had seen a piece of Seonghwa that most never would.

And she was still here.

Still holding on.

I smiled to myself, pressing the throttle just a little harder, cutting through the night with Yeon Hyerin's presence wrapped firmly around me.

She didn't loosen her grip, not even as we neared the estate. Not until I brought the bike to a smooth stop in front of the towering gates, their iron bars gleaming under the soft glow of the security lights.

The familiar beeping of the scanner signaled our arrival, and the gates slid open effortlessly. I guided the bike up the driveway, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the quiet space between us.

Hyerin finally let go, her fingers slipping away as she climbed off the seat, adjusting the hoodie she was still wearing. Her expression was unreadable, but she took a long look at the grand, imposing entrance of the Yoon estate.

"You live like this every day?" she asked, voice neutral.

I chuckled, pulling off my helmet. "What, not what you expected?"

She didn't answer, just shook her head slightly before following me toward the entrance.

But the moment I stepped inside, I immediately noticed something off.

An extra pair of shoes by the entrance. Dark leather. Polished. Placed neatly beside mine.

Shoes that hadn't been there when I left.

My fingers curled slightly.

Yoon Hajoon.

My father was home.

Hyerin stepped in behind me, immediately picking up on the change in my demeanor. She followed my gaze toward the unfamiliar shoes, her sharp eyes flickering back to me, assessing.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders back before slipping into something smoother, calmer—a mask perfected over years of necessity.

Just then, a voice echoed from the far end of the hall.

"Saehwa."

The weight in my chest settled heavier.

Yoon Hajoon stood near the living room, his presence imposing, unreadable, calculated. His dark suit was immaculate, as always, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickered from me to Hyerin.

He didn't ask who she was.

He simply studied her.

I held his gaze, my smile smooth. "Father. What a surprise."

He tilted his head slightly, a quiet acknowledgment. "You're home later than usual."

I shrugged, stepping forward. "I had business to attend to."

His gaze slid toward Hyerin again. "And this?"

Hyerin didn't shrink under his stare. She didn't fidget, didn't look away.

Interesting.

I smirked. "She's with me."

A brief pause. Then, Hajoon's lips curled into something that might have been amusement—or something far colder.

"Is that so?"

The air in the room shifted, tension threading between us like an unspoken game beginning to unfold.

And I already knew—this night was far from over.

I kept my expression composed, unreadable. "I'll take her back to my room," I said smoothly, slipping past my father before he could say anything more. "If you need anything, call me."

I didn't wait for his response.

Instead, I grabbed Hyerin's wrist and led her upstairs. She didn't resist, but I could feel the shift in her posture—not tense, but not completely at ease either.

Something about that brief exchange had unsettled her.

I glanced at her as we ascended the stairs, catching a flicker of something in her expression. Shock? Surprise? No—familiarity.

Why?

I narrowed my eyes slightly. Why did you look like that, Hyerin?

What exactly did you recognize?

I didn't ask. Not yet.

Instead, I pulled her inside my room, closing the door behind us.

The second the door clicked shut, she immediately turned to me, eyes sharp, unreadable tension still lingering in her features.

"Saehwa," she said, voice lower than usual, controlled but pressing, "your father is Yoon Hajoon?"

She exhaled, as if trying to process something. "That lawyer?!"

Ah.

So that's what this was about.

I smirked, leaning casually against my desk, crossing my arms. "What, is that surprising?"

She stared at me, blinking once, before shaking her head slightly. "No, it's just—" she hesitated, brows furrowing slightly, as if searching for the right words.

As if this meant something more than simple recognition.

Now, that was interesting.

"You know of him?" I asked, my tone light, but there was a quiet edge beneath it.

Her fingers curled slightly, her jaw tightening for a brief moment before she looked away.

"Of course I do," she muttered. "Everyone does."

It was a half-truth.

And I caught it immediately.

My smirk deepened.

"Right," I murmured, tilting my head. "Everyone does."

But not everyone reacts like you just did, Hyerin.

So tell me—why do you?

Hyerin's gaze didn't waver, her voice quieter this time, but laced with something deeper. "Do you know my father?"

I tilted my head slightly, watching her carefully. "Am I supposed to?"

Her fingers curled at her sides, a subtle tension settling into her shoulders. "His name is Yeon Minsu."

Yeon Minsu.

The name hit me like a slow, delayed realization—like a puzzle piece finally snapping into place.

Hyerin wasn't just any transfer student.

She had a reason for being here.

I remained composed, my expression neutral. "Should I recognize it?"

Her lips parted slightly before pressing together, as if measuring her next words carefully. Then, finally—

"Your father," she said, her voice even but firm, "was the one who dismissed an important case about my father."

Silence.

The air between us shifted, thicker now, heavier.

I didn't move, didn't blink. "Go on."

Hyerin's eyes sharpened. "Five years ago, my father was accused of money laundering. Framed. Everything pointed to him, but the evidence was tampered with. We fought it, but in the end—" her voice lowered slightly, steady but edged with something close to restrained anger, "your father did nothing. He had the power to change the outcome, but instead… he let it happen."

Ah.

So that's why your name was familiar, Yeon Hyerin.

I exhaled slowly, my fingers tracing the edge of my desk, feeling the cool surface beneath my fingertips.

I remembered the case.

Even though my father had done his best to bury it, I knew.

I had seen the files, the reports, the way his usually pristine records held a single, noticeable stain—the case that was swept under the rug before it could ever see the light of true justice.

At the time, I was younger. Too young to have a say in anything. But even then, I had understood one thing.

My father is a flawed man.

"You're right," I finally said, my voice calm, measured. "I do know about that."

Hyerin inhaled sharply, like she hadn't expected me to admit it so easily.

I leaned back against the desk, watching her reaction. "And now?" I mused. "What do you plan to do, Hyerin?"

Her fists clenched.

"You think I came here for revenge?" she asked, her voice cold.

I smiled slightly. "Did you?"

Her silence was the only answer I needed.

She wasn't sure.

Not yet.

But the fact that she was here, standing in my room, staring at me with something between resentment and uncertainty—it meant she hadn't made up her mind.

And that?

That made this all the more interesting.