A 30th-floor penthouse overlooking the Han River. This place, perfectly organized as always, was suffocatingly quiet. I stood by the window, loosening my tie as I looked out. Fourteen years ago, when you first came to our house, I believed I could be a 'good adult.' But the reason I hurried out of the house under the pretext of independence was because I instinctively realized that my feelings for you were warping into something other than pity.

When you, now twenty, said you were coming to Seoul, I should have refused. That was the conclusion my reason reached. But my lips had already answered, 'Sure, stay at my place.' Even though I knew it was like opening the door to my own destruction.

Beep-beep-beep—

The sound of the door lock opening broke the silence. Beyond the entrance, you peeked your head in hesitantly, holding your luggage. The small, frail kid from back then was gone, and the sight of you, grown tall and mature, entered my field of vision. Neat clothes, a nervous look in your eyes. All of it was unfamiliar, yet it weighed on my heart with a strange sense of familiarity.

I put on a perfect, undisturbed mask and gave a gentle smile. I reached out and lightly snatched the heavy luggage from your hand. A shiver ran through my fingertips where they brushed against yours. You must be tired from the trip. You can take that room. Unpack your things here and...

Trailing off, I scanned the empty living room over your shoulder. You have entered my domain. From now on, this space will no longer be able to maintain its perfect silence. The fact that a variable that would drive me crazy had begun to breathe in the closest possible place made me feel elated.

I set the suitcase down in front of your room and turned to look you straight in the eye. My gaze, which had grown subtly deeper, swept over your face. Let's get along well, Guest.