Chapter 02
As expected, the manager of Le Garden led Seoyoung to the rose greenhouse. The moment he opened the door, a rich wave of rose fragrance rushed toward her as if embracing her.
Perhaps pink was this spring’s theme—everywhere she looked, there were roses in every shade imaginable, from baby pink to eye-stinging bright pink.
She had preferred the black and red roses from five years ago, but this wasn’t bad either. It suited her current self, in a way.
“It’s beautiful. As expected, Youngjin’s flower team really is the best.”
The manager’s shoulders lifted a little higher at the compliment from Seoyoung, who was known for having refined taste.
Holding her coat, he gave her a warm smile and pulled out her chair.
“Thank you.”
Though he had seen her for years now, this madam never forgot to say thank you, even for the smallest things. The manager smiled again.
Seoyoung, momentarily dazed by the scent of roses, was about to sit down when she suddenly hesitated.
Cake?
In the center of the round marble table sat a cake—piled high with white, sweet cream. The kind of cake Seoyoung didn’t particularly enjoy.
“May you have a very happy birthday.”
Noticing where her gaze had settled, the manager added the comment. Seoyoung, who had been about to sit, slowly straightened back up. The startled manager stepped back.
Her eyes moved to a card placed in front of the cake, written in gold Gothic lettering. Her gaze traced the words.
—Sincere congratulations on your twenty-third birthday, my beloved.
The manager, standing behind her, read it as well.
His face instantly paled.
Why had he forgotten?
Madam of S Company’s birthday was in winter.
Every December, he had personally sent a fruit cake—less sweet, tailored to her taste—to the S Company main house. He had done so for years.
How could he forget something so important?
The reservation and order had come from the S Company president’s secretary’s office. And then the S Company madam had appeared at the restaurant. Of course he had escorted her to the reserved table.
Except now it clearly wasn’t that simple.
Then who was the real owner of this reservation?
Cold sweat ran down his back.
After standing still for a long while, Seoyoung picked up the card.
It wasn’t her birthday. And she certainly wasn’t twenty-three.
The strange, vaguely uncomfortable moments of her day began replaying in slow motion inside her mind.
And then—
The door to the dessert room opened, and someone entered. Seoyoung slowly lifted her head.
It was Han Seoha.
In the dazzling glass greenhouse filled with brilliant roses, his mere entrance seemed to drain them of their glow.
His flawless white skin, sharp jawline, and neatly combed black hair looked almost painted into perfection. His eyes—so dark they seemed faintly blue—held an unreadable light beneath deep lids.
Those eyes that were always cold enough to freeze.
Seoyoung pressed her lips tightly together to keep them from trembling as her gaze met his.
What appeared on his face was shock.
And then, moments later—anger.
“Oppa! It’s even prettier than I imagined. How did you think to reserve a place like this? I’ve never had a birthday like this before—”
Before Seoha could speak, a voice floated in ahead of its owner.
A clear voice, like birds chirping.
Then the woman herself appeared.
With peach-tinted cheeks, smiling sweetly, chattering brightly.
A sigh that was almost a laugh slipped from Seoyoung’s lips.
Ah…
So that’s how it is.
After standing frozen for a moment, she smiled again—as she always did.
A picture-perfect smile.
But her eyes did not smile at all.
What followed unfolded exactly as Seoyoung had expected.
The woman who had entered—Kang Naeun—stopped abruptly, as though she had seen something she shouldn’t have.
“Unni?” she called in a thin voice, not forgetting to address Seoyoung.
As always, tears brimmed in her large eyes, threatening to spill.
Seoyoung could hear the grinding of Han Seoha’s teeth.
The hotel manager’s face was nearly gray now. The staff member who had escorted Seoha into the greenhouse also looked flustered, even forgetting to take their coats.
“Manager, could you please give us a moment?”
In the end, as always, it was Seoyoung who had to settle the situation.
After sending the staff out, she clenched her jaw and bit down on her trembling lips. Her lipstick would smudge, but that hardly mattered.
Feigning calm, she walked toward Han Seoha.
With every step, the heavy scent of roses brushed against her hands, shoulders, and face like colliding droplets.
The fragrance burst around her, almost nauseatingly strong. Though she hadn’t eaten anything, something rose unpleasantly in her stomach. She swallowed dryly.
Breathe without opening your mouth. Count backward from five.
Following her usual habit, she steadied herself and stopped in front of him. Because of her flat shoes, she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.
This is why I hate low heels.
“It seems the secretary’s office made a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
His voice was icy.
Despite having calmed herself, a shiver ran through her. Her lips, once beautifully red, had turned pale—almost bluish.
“This morning, the secretary’s office—”
“Those shoes…”
It was Naeun who interrupted.
Her trembling finger pointed at Seoyoung’s shoes. Seoha’s gaze followed.
Seoyoung looked down as well.
Bright red shoes—like toys, completely out of place.
She hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in the feeling of walking on clouds. But the moment their gazes fixed on them, sharp pain shot up from her heels. The shoes didn’t fit; she had forced them on.
If they get stained with blood, donating them will be difficult.
As that absurd thought crossed her mind, Seoha’s brows furrowed again.
“What on earth are you—”
Why did both Naeun and Seoha always stop mid-sentence?
Seoyoung lifted her head, glancing between them.
If Naeun asked why she was wearing her shoes, she planned to say she had picked them up at the department store, assuming they were hers.
If Seoha asked whether she had known about this birthday dinner and come deliberately, she would say no.
The truth.
But neither of them asked.
“You said it was the secretary’s mistake?”
Instead, Seoha asked something else.
Seoyoung pressed her lips together again.
For the first time, she sincerely thought he was stupid.
So what? Did he think she had come to watch the birthday party of his so-called little sister?
Or that she would act like a scorned wife catching her husband with his mistress and grab Naeun by the hair?
She swallowed the words that would have made him faint if spoken aloud and turned to Naeun instead.
“Naeun, I’m sorry. There must have been some confusion. I’ll order the same shoes for you. You wouldn’t want ones that someone else has worn, right?”
As if on cue, tears spilled down Naeun’s cheeks.
Pretending not to notice, Seoyoung added lightly,
“I don’t have a habit of giving my worn shoes to others either. I’d rather throw them away.”
When she said throw them away, she looked at Seoha.
His face twisted further.
A faint sense of satisfaction flickered through her—along with a sharp ache in her chest.
But she smiled again.
“I seem to be the uninvited guest, so I won’t disturb you. Naeun, happy birthday.”
She even gave a small wave toward the tearful girl.
The crying Naeun, the furious Seoha, and the eerily composed Seoyoung were tangled together in the same space like a grotesque scene from a drama.
After one last look, she let out a sigh-like laugh and stepped forward.
Strangely, the wound hurt more once she was aware of it. Her steps wavered noticeably.
The oversized shoes clattered against her feet. She couldn’t afford the disgrace of them flying off, so she struggled briefly to steady herself.
Seoha, startled, instinctively reached out. The expression on his face—so long twisted—clearly held concern.
And at the same time, Naeun’s slender shoulders swayed.
Before his arm could reach Seoyoung, Naeun clung to it like a small bird.
Her pitiful tears dotted the sleeve of his coat.
