It was past 7 p.m. by the ti Es finally closed her last file. She pushed her chair back, intending to leave, but the sudden, sharp pulse of pain from her still-healing wound made her falter. She clutched the desk for support, the injury from her recent fight stinging intensely despite Beom’s slow healing magic. Breathing through the pain, she straightened up and pulled open her drawer.
Inside, a small, transparent container of white pills glinted under the light. Rehan had warned her: these weren’t just painkillers. They accelerated healing but at a cost—intense drowsiness that could make even the strongest waver. Es swallowed one, almost feeling the bitterness soak into her bloodstream. Within monts, the familiar, thick haze began clouding her mind, dulling the pain but making everything seem dreamlike, slightly off-balance. She leaned back in her chair, deciding she’d wait it out here; there was no way she’d risk letting anyone see her in this state.
Then, just as her eyelids began to feel heavy, a knock echoed through her office.
"Ma’am," ca Mr. Alphonso’s voice, professional but insistent. "There’s soone here requesting to et you."
She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temple. "Tell them I’m unavailable," she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. "They’ll need to make an appointnt another ti."
A pause, then Mr. Alphonso’s calm reply from behind the door. "Ma’am, this eting was scheduled today."
The beat of her heart felt amplified, the effects of the dicine making her unsteady and irritable. "I don’t recall scheduling anything this late," she said coolly. "Whoever it is should’ve respected my ti."
"Yes, ma’am," Mr. Alphonso replied, his tone almost placating. "But this client had an appointnt at five and was delayed due to..plications. They’ve waited for hours."
Es’s hand clenched, frustration simring beneath her fatigue. "If it’s that urgent, then they should be able to wait a bit longer, don’t you think?"
"But ma’am, they ntioned it was—"
She cut him off, her voice sharper this ti. "Enough, Mr. Alphonso. I said I’m not interested. Let them know I’m...preoccupied."
A pause, but she sensed Mr. Alphonso’s hesitation, almost a challenge in the silence.
"Very well, ma’am," he finally replied, his voice impeccably calm but with a trace of sothing else she couldn’t quite place.
As his footsteps retreated, Es exhaled, sinking further back in her chair. Her fingers traced the rim of the pill container as she stared at her reflection in the glossy surface of her desk, a rare, unfocused look in her usually composed eyes.
The dicine might dull her pain, but nothing could ease the tension simring beneath her skin.
Es dropped her head, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold herself steady, to push away the unwelco effects of the dicine that felt stronger, more relentless than before. Her skin was afla, and a strange thirst scratched at her throat, leaving her uneasy. Every inch of her body seed to pulse, the room’s quietness amplifying her heartbeat.
And then, another knock.
A vein of irritation ran through her, flaring hot. "I said not to disturb !" Her voice was sharper than she intended, but the sound of it seed to ground her a little, sharpening her awareness. She pressed her fingertips harder to her temples, but sothing else broke through the haze this ti—a scent. Familiar, almost painfully so. Lavender, subtle and soft, weaving its way into her senses.
The scent lingered in the air, stirring mories she had thought buried. It was a handcrafted fragrance, the very one that Cain had created years ago, a blend no brand could replicate. He had worn it like a shield, knowing she hated the pungent, cheap colognes on the market. It was a fragrance she once found solace in, a soft anchor in the turbulent waters of her past. Now, it was an anchor to pain, tugging her back to a person and a ti she’d fought so hard to leave behind.
With each step toward the door, her heart pounded harder, and in her mind, mories of Cain grew vivid. She could see him in his usual white shirt layered over a soft gray t-shirt, his casual ease, his laughter, his warm, golden hair. The way he’d held her in monts she thought she would shatter. Cain, who once slled of lavender, who had been both her peace and her greatest pain.
Es opened the door, breath caught in her throat. Standing there was Cain—or so her dazed mind first believed. A tall figure, white shirt, soft t-shirt beneath, a slight looseness in his pants, and that sa watch he’d always worn on his wrist. Her fingers, almost without her control, reached out, brushing his cheek as if she were trying to capture a ghost. She needed to touch him, to feel him solid and real, a denial of all the grief she had let herself feel.
But the illusion shattered when her vision cleared, and she realized with a jolt that the man standing before her was not Cain, but Noah—Cain’s younger brother. Her gaze sharpened, taking in the details that didn’t belong, the slight difference in his jawline, the barely perceptible but present ache in his eyes that Cain had never shown.
The shock hit her harder than she’d expected. Noah was dressed so much like Cain that it was almost cruel, and in that mont, a swirl of emotions welled up—anger, confusion, and a grief so sharp it felt like it might break her in half.
"Noah..." Her voice was laced with a bitterness she didn’t intend, and then she hardened, stepping back and straightening herself, pulling whatever strength she had left to push the feelings down, to bury them again where they belonged.
"What the hell are you doing here, Mr. Noah?" The words ca out like ice, sharp and defensive, as if they could create a wall between her and the ache that was crawling back to the surface.
Es’s heart thundered, her jaw tightening as she eyed Noah with mounting fury and disbelief.
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