Because I had spent so much time at the makeup studio, department store, and nail salon, it was dark by the time I got back to the art hall.

I thought I might get a phone call from someone impatiently asking why I was so late, but that turned out to be an unnecessary worry.

There hadn’t been a single message from Lee Seol-won.

On the other hand, considering the type of party he was attending, it was probably filled with acquaintances from similar family backgrounds, and people in positions of responsibility wouldn’t be having a party in the middle of the day anyway.

It wasn’t as if Lee Seol-won adjusted his schedule to suit the party – more likely, the party was waiting for him.

The art hall, with most of its lights turned off after hours, looked completely different than it did during the day.

In the landscaped outdoor areas, a few citizens could be seen out for a night stroll, but the rest of the buildings were so quiet that they exuded an almost eerie silence.

I got out of the car and went to the CEO’s office.

The secretary had already gone home, and only Lee Seol-won remained, still sitting with perfect posture, calmly taking care of the remaining work.

No matter how many times I saw it, this place always felt colorless.

It was as if Lee Seol-won, dressed in a black suit, had fallen like a single drop of ink onto a blank sheet of white rice paper.

“I’m here.”

Without taking his eyes off the documents, he replied.

“I see you.

Then, after a moment, he finally looked up.

I suddenly became aware of something I hadn’t quite noticed before – he had a peculiar habit of keeping his gaze at a subtle distance.

It was as if his range of eye movement was wider than most people’s. Almost as if he used his field of vision differently.

I even wondered if he had studied something in the arts or athletics.

But from what I’d come across while endlessly searching for information about Lee Seol-won and Heo Yeonseo on portal sites, I’d learned – almost in passing – that he was surprisingly an engineering major, just like Heo Yeonseo, and from the same school.

He even had the unusual distinction of having participated in a campus hacking competition.

In most business families, it’s common to hear of children being steered into business programs or sent abroad for early studies, so Lee Seol-won’s choice of major was rather unconventional by comparison.

Looking back on the path he took, it seemed even more unusual.

Lee Seol-won was known to have a keen eye for art.

There was an anecdote that I came across while endlessly searching for articles about him.

During his college days, Lee Seol-won was often seen in unexpected places, including small exhibitions of young, up-and-coming artists who rented out gallery space.

Since all the participating artists were newcomers, the exhibitions didn’t attract many visitors, and most of the artwork was quietly sold through personal connections.

No one knew how he found out about such obscure events, but Lee Seol-won is said to have visited one of these exhibitions, studied the work of a particular artist with great interest, and ended up buying every single piece on display.

Years later, the artist began to gain international recognition for his unique style, which combined traditional Korean colors with Western painting techniques.

Needless to say, the value of Lee Seol-won’s collection skyrocketed. Moreover, the artists he discovered soon became household names in various fields.

This is why our traditional Korean orchestra was so excited to receive an invitation to perform at a Korean music festival.

Perhaps because of his impeccable taste, SW Company – a trendsetter in many areas of popular culture – gave Lee Seol-won the Songun Art Hall, a venue dedicated to pure art. Critics praised the decision as a choice made on the strength of his exceptional artistic judgment.

“All beauty in the world begins with Songun.

Under this banner, which was raised when Lee Seol-won took office as CEO, Songun Art Hall became known among artists as the “Stage of Dreams.”

Engineering and art are generally considered to be polar opposites. Was there a unique common thread that allowed Lee Seol-won to bridge the two so effortlessly?

Who was this man?

He wore so many different faces that it was impossible to tell which one was his.

I swallowed my confusion and gave his wallet back.

Just as indifferently as he had handed it to me, Lee Seol-won took it back without a word about how much I had spent or how I looked now.

It was clear that he had no intention of making conversation.

That’s how I interpreted it, and to be honest, his indifference didn’t even surprise me anymore.

Then, as he suddenly closed the documents he’d been looking at, he asked.

“Dinner?”

Did he really ask me if I had eaten?

The question came so unexpectedly that I was momentarily stunned, at a complete loss for words.

It had been a hectic evening, running from one department store to another. I barely had time to think, let alone sit down for a meal.

Besides, my every move must have been exposed by the flood of payment notices. If nothing else, it was clear that he hadn’t looked at a single one of my card transactions.

I shook my head.

Seeing my reaction, Lee Seol-won calmly buttoned his suit jacket and stood up.

“Let’s eat before we go out.”

But it didn’t feel casual at all to me.

“No.”

We barely managed to keep the awkwardness at bay-if I had to sit across from him and eat in that silence, I might actually lose my appetite entirely.

Besides, I wasn’t hungry. The tension had taken care of that.

So I made up a convenient excuse.

“It’s a party, right? I can just eat there.”

And so, without another word, we walked in silence to the venue.

It was an odd company.

We were both impeccably dressed, yet the faces reflected in the rearview mirror were expressionless – so still, we hardly looked like people on their way to a party.

To be honest, even I couldn’t tell if we were going to a party… or a funeral.

The moment I sat next to Lee Seol-won in the back seat, I immediately regretted it.

I should have asked for a separate car.

It was incredibly uncomfortable to sit so close to such a tall man who maintained a perfect posture without the slightest hint of disorder.

Unconsciously, I remembered that day in the concert hall, how I had sat there alone, nervously swallowing wave after wave of tension just by being in his presence.

Trying to appear unfazed, I turned my head to the window and concentrated on the passing scenery.

But even that wasn’t easy.

The car was cold.

When I’d been alone in the car, the chauffeur had turned up the heating to a stifling level. But when Lee Seol-won got in, he drove without turning on the heater at all.

Even though the cabin had been preheated, it was still winter outside, and the cold crept in steadily through the glass.

Come to think of it, his office didn’t feel warm either.

Not that it was a matter of saving money – other areas of the vast Art Hall were so warm they bordered on stuffy.

Was he just naturally impervious to the cold?

I was wearing a coat, yes – but I had chosen one that matched my dress, not one designed for warmth.

The party dress itself was thin and left the back of my neck completely exposed, letting in the cold air that made me shiver.

If I’d known it was going to be like this, I would have brought my warm padded jacket from the trunk.

When I heard it was a meeting, I vaguely imagined a banquet hall somewhere in Seoul. But to my surprise, the car went beyond the city limits.

Having gone to school in Seoul, rented a house there, worked there, and only traveled to the provinces for performances on chartered buses, I was in every way a classic Seoulite.

So even when I saw the street signs, I couldn’t figure out exactly where we were going.

And since the driver was not using a navigation system, there was no way for me to sneak a peek at the destination address.

I considered using the map application on my phone to check our location, but decided against it – I was afraid it might make him suspicious.

The silence in the car was stifling.

It was so thick and unyielding that even the sound of breathing felt intrusive.

To endure it, I silently traced Gayageum melodies in my mind. At such moments, I was grateful for my musical background.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how Eun-sae, who loved to talk and laugh, had managed to tolerate someone like him, for whom silence seemed to be the norm.

After what seemed like an eternity on the road, the car finally entered the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province.

As I felt the car slow down, I lifted my head.

We had finally arrived.

In the direction the car was going, there was a building completely surrounded by high walls and an iron gate.

From the outside, only the top of the building, just above the wall, was visible, but even that limited view hinted at its unusual design: a sloping roof and irregularly placed windows that made it hard to tell how many floors there were.

The mansion was huge, and security cameras had been installed in every corner, their red lights flashing like the eyes of wild animals.

It seemed that someone had been watching our approach, because as we approached, the iron gate began to open slowly.

The car slipped through the gate as if swallowed by the darkness.

I had only seen such scenes in dramas or movies.

Somehow I felt like I was being swallowed by the jaws of a huge beast.

With my heart beating loudly in my ears, I tightened my grip on the handle of my bag.