Summer had finally managed to climb all the way to the highest window of the Magic Tower.

A fresh, luminous breeze seeped slowly through the half-open window, making the white curtains flutter like a soft breath. The sunlight stretched long across the office floor, and dust motes caught in the light drifted quietly through the warm summer air.

On the desk, documents remained neatly stacked, untouched. A well-crafted fountain pen, an open ink bottle, and, looking out of place among them, a small flower pot.

The leaves, which should have been vibrant, had long since drooped their heads.

Jeong Hyeong-jun rested his chin on his hand, staring at it for a long while.

His fingertip lightly brushed a wilted leaf. It was a very careful touch, but no miracle occurred. The leaf trembled weakly, enough to be shaken by a single breath of wind, and he simply let a soft smile crinkle his eyes as if he had expected it.

It can't be helped, then.

Low footsteps echoed outside the door, but his fingertip only tapped the armrest slowly. His attitude was that of a man furthest from haste, embracing even the lethargy of summer as if it were his own.