Chapter 1: An Edge Called Regret

The watch that softly embraced his sinewy wrist, complemented by the cuffs folded twice.

The tailored shirt with two buttons undone, radiating a subtle, heavy pressure. The neatly groomed dark eyebrows and the coolly cast lashes.

And the pitch-black pupils wandering between them.

It was an appearance of flawless perfection, yet the secretarial staff assisting Yoon Lee-hyun detected the minute changes in him.

The Breguet watch on his wrist instead of a Richard Mille or Audemars Piguet, the sharp black shirt, and the bangs hanging low enough to cover his eyebrows—all of these were the tastes of his wife, Jin Seohee.

“Next.”

Secretary-General Jung Seung-ho gulped as that monotonous voice settled over the spacious office.

“…….”

Unable to wait through the brief silence, Lee-hyun tapped his desk at a steady, rhythmic pace.

Everything Lee-hyun obsessively pored over were traces of Jin Seohee.
Reading, and reading again.
He had already read the contents dozens of times, but his black pupils did not tire.

Was there anything he missed? Was there anything that could serve as a clue?
He scanned them fiercely and lashed out coldly.

“I asked if there was any other information.”

He had added only one sentence, yet the air in the CEO’s office froze instantly.
Seung-ho lowered his head as if he had no excuse.

Returning from his business trip, Lee-hyun had felt something was wrong when he saw the empty house.

He was the one who had told her to leave, yet it felt as if it wasn’t just a departure, but rather a chilling sensation that someone had simply vanished.

And Lee-hyun’s intuition was correct.
He could not find a trace of his wife anywhere.

One week since Jin Seohee disappeared.

Yoon Lee-hyun’s daily routine began with engraving reports about Jin Seohee into his eyes and ended with chewing and swallowing them word by word.

The places she had visited, the people she met, the music she liked, the clothes she enjoyed wearing.
Even her preferred toothbrush and toothpaste.

To those who knew the dry, loveless past of the two, Yoon Lee-hyun was clinging to Jin Seohee in a way they could never have imagined.

Two weeks since Jin Seohee disappeared.

Half of the secretarial staff directly under YH CEO Yoon Lee-hyun were fired or demoted.

Behind the excuse of failing to properly serve their superior, there lay a hidden fury at their incompetence—their failure to protect Jin Seohee and their inability to even track her whereabouts.

Three weeks since Jin Seohee disappeared.

Yoon Lee-hyun became obsessed with the things Jin Seohee liked.

He, who would not even touch sweets, had Natra truffle chocolates placed in the center of his work desk, and his espresso was replaced by a latte.

One month since Jin Seohee disappeared.

“Chief Jung.”

The lips that had been savoring a Natra truffle chocolate called to Seung-ho with chilling coolness.

“Yes, sir.”

“One day. If you don’t show results by then, I will fire the entire secretarial staff.”

His low voice never spoke empty words.
Like a small crack in a glass pane spreading wider, Yoon Lee-hyun’s patience had reached its limit.

“I will find her.”

Seung-ho, pushing up his silver-rimmed glasses, bowed respectfully.

The next day.
Yoon Lee-hyun heard the news he had been waiting for.

“Sir, we have found your wife.”

Before he could even grab his jacket, Lee-hyun stood up in one motion.
Seung-ho, sensing his mood, followed him with the jacket draped over his arm.

The destination was a general hospital in Ganghae City, bordering the East Sea.

“She’s here?”

Before entering the patient room, Lee-hyun stopped his hurried stride and furrowed his brow.
His expression was clearly displeased.

The fact that his missing wife had been left unattended for a month, and that she was in a crowded six-person ward—above all, the very fact that she was in a hospital—suffocated him.

“She was registered as a ‘no-kin’ patient, so it took a long time to locate her. I apologize.”

As Seung-ho lowered his head in shame, the bodyguards and secretaries beside him bowed their heads as well.

No-kin? How could that be? Did Seohee hide her identity? Now that I think of it, I seem to remember hearing something similar on the way here.
The hand gripping the door handle tightened.

Lee-hyun’s questions were answered before long.

“Who… are you?”

Because of that one phrase, as she looked at him with wariness as if he were a stranger.

A voice that was soft and sweet, like walking on clouds.
Pure eyes in which no trace of hostility could be found.
Long, plump, red lips.

Everything was exactly the same, so Lee-hyun mistakenly thought he had misheard.

“Do you… know me?”

Looking at the bodyguard standing behind him, she asked with eyes full of fear, shielding herself.

<Sir, she has lost her memories.>

Only then recalling Seung-ho’s report, Lee-hyun could not hide the sigh that escaped him.
His gaze, which had been falling toward the floor, reached Seohee’s stomach.

Seohee, who had been blankly following Lee-hyun’s gaze down, placed both hands on her flat stomach.
Her eyes, filled with visible tension as if she were protecting something, turned toward Lee-hyun.

Wariness.

At that unfamiliar look, Lee-hyun bit the inside of his cheek.
His pupils, surrounding the irises, darkened intensely.

“……Are you, by any chance, the child’s….”

The child.
At that word, Lee-hyun’s pupils wavered.
She really is pregnant. She is carrying my child.

As he had read the reports describing how Seohee had been in a car accident and was recovering in the hospital after surgery, he had felt his blood boil.
Then, at the part stating she was pregnant, Lee-hyun had dropped the report he was holding.

“Are you the father?”

Answering instead with a nod, Lee-hyun added one thing.

“To be exact, Ms. Jin Seohee….”

His bass voice descended heavily.

“Jin… Seohee.”

She chewed on her own name as if it were strange.

Lee-hyun stood there, unable to approach her, yet unable to step back.
His gaze drifted to Seohee’s right hand.

That ring again.

Seohee, who had always shoved aside the wedding ring with the luxurious diamond setting, was instead wearing a simple ring with a small stone as if it were part of her own body.

Lee-hyun’s lips, staring blankly at her hand, curved into satisfaction.
He was suddenly pleased by the fact that she and he were wearing identical rings.

“I am your husband.”

His lips, drawn in a deep arc, firmly drove the point home.

Yes. Husband.
Why had I pushed this away so much? It’s just a word; how heavy could the weight of this single word be?
Lee-hyun bit his lip.

His black pupils surged like waves.

***

Having continued meetings in the annex until late, Lee-hyun did not enter the main house until after 12 o’clock.

His footsteps, guided by habit, stopped only when he reached the bedroom where Seohee would be asleep.

Lee-hyun, lifting his gaze blankly, swallowed a sigh through his teeth.

Since when? Since when have I been doing this religiously, like a dog coming home to its master?

Veins bulged on the back of the hand he had shoved into his pocket.
As he turned to enter the study, the marriage registration form greeted him.

Lee-hyun’s hand, clutching the paper that was all too familiar, tightened.

Was today our wedding anniversary?

Lee-hyun pressed his forehead.

On their wedding anniversary, there were no gifts or meals exchanged.
Seohee did not try to fuss over it, nor did she blame Lee-hyun for not celebrating it.
She simply, stoically, presented only the documents. A certificate proving they were a married couple.

<I should stop this.>

I really must put an end to this.

His touch as he flipped the paper over, as if it were meaningless, was rough.

4:59 AM.
Lee-hyun, who had eventually not slept a wink, rubbed his stiff neck.
His steps from the study to the dressing room were heavy.

Finished with his shower, Lee-hyun styled his hair neatly as always.
Dressed in a charcoal gray suit jacket and with the sapphire glass of his Audemars Piguet watch wrapped around his wrist, he stepped out of the dressing room.

<Lee-hyun.>

Bloodshot eyes and dark circles under her eyes.
Lee-hyun frowned at Seohee’s appearance, which suggested she had stayed up all night.

Seohee followed him, carrying the suitcase she had left in the dressing room.
Out of the bedroom, to the living room, and finally to the entryway.

<The meal…>

<Forget it.>

It was a reaction he had expected.
Seohee did not press him again, nor did she show a crestfallen expression.

<I didn’t pack much, since you said it was a two-week trip. I thought you wouldn’t like it if I did.>

You could have just bought clothes there.
Lee-hyun’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

<I told you there was no need to do that.>

These trivial actions, I mean.
Even though Lee-hyun swallowed the final words, Seohee grasped his intention immediately.

<It’s been five years. You should be used to what I do for you by now.>

It’s not like we’re strangers.

Seohee countered lightly.
A smile of genuine satisfaction spread across her red lips.

Lee-hyun froze for a moment.
Because it was true.
Because the touch of Jin Seohee had become something he felt empty without now.
Because her actions, which had seeped into his life without a sound, had colored his entire daily routine.

Since when did I get used to this?
Lee-hyun bit his lip, feeling strangely unfamiliar with the sensation.

We are supposed to be complete strangers.

It felt as though something was fundamentally misaligned.
Not just crooked, but as if he were being strangled by something.

Lee-hyun’s gaze drifted to the suitcase handle in Seohee’s hand.
Then, keeping his gaze straight ahead, he stared at Seohee through the entryway mirror.

Before her existence becomes as natural as breathing. Before that, certainly.

<I must cut it off.>

A resolute thought fell from his lips.
His twisted lips formed a half-circle.

The stability her small hands provided, the kindness, the warmth that seemed to melt him away.

So, I must cast aside this peace, this familiarity, all of it, he resolved.

<I’ve returned your stocks. Though it was a proxy, there was nothing to return or not.>

Wasn’t ours a relationship of giving and receiving?
Lee-hyun’s eyes shone with rationality.

<You don’t need to repay the investment in J International.>

The utility of J International had reached its end, so there was no reason to be with her anymore.

Seohee just blinked quietly.
She was not swayed even by his words that he would return the company and the stocks.

<I’ve withdrawn the bodyguards, and Secretary Shin won’t be coming either.>

Freedom was included in the parting.
As if searching the soft membranes of his soul, Seohee’s lips moved.

Lee-hyun’s neat eyebrows, watching her through the mirror, shifted minutely.

Returning the delegated authority once the succession of the Gayun Group was secured, and returning to being absolute strangers.
Lee-hyun had carried it out faithfully, as initially planned.
Without a shred of hesitation.

<Pack your things and leave within two weeks.>

Even knowing it was nowhere near enough time to pack up five years of life, he said it without any difficulty.

Seohee was quiet.
It was almost as if she wasn’t even listening.

As Lee-hyun, who had been staring blankly at her, turned to leave, Seohee quickly grabbed his wrist.

Thump.
The suitcase slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a loud noise.

<Do you really want to end it?>

It wasn’t a pathetic plea like I don’t want to, how can you end it like this, give me more time.

Lee-hyun arched his eyebrows sensitively.
While he was swallowing hard, Seohee added.

<Is that what you really want?>

Her voice was calm.
Seohee was as still as a lake shrouded in dawn mist.

<…Yes.>

<Then do one thing for me, too.>

Seohee firmly wrapped both arms around Lee-hyun’s neck.
Her brown eyes held Lee-hyun’s gaze.

Jin Seohee.
Swallowing the name that pushed to the tip of his tongue, he tried to push her shoulders away, but a small tongue that tickled the corners of his lips delved deep to interweave with his own.

As her slender fingers grazed the boundary between the back of his head and his neck, Lee-hyun suppressed a groan that threatened to erupt.

Having shared a body for five years, there was no way she wouldn’t know his erogenous zones.

It was an unmistakable provocation.