Between Heat and Distance

As the executive director continued looking around, he suddenly turned his head and asked me,

“Secretary Yoon. Can you swim?”

It was an unexpected question.

Did this mean I had to try it too?

That would be a problem, so I answered quickly.

“I’m sorry, but I never learned how to swim.”

“Is that so?”

Thankfully, the question ended there.

Perhaps he had really considered pushing me into it, but unlike at the restaurant, he didn’t press further.

My quick answer had been a relief.

Next, we headed to the guest rooms.

After getting off on the 29th floor and walking a short distance down a long corridor, the manager personally opened the door to a room he had been waiting in front of.

Even if it wasn’t the highest-tier suite reserved for owners, it was clearly beyond a standard suite—something even above that.

It seemed they couldn’t bring themselves to offer a mere deluxe room for a “package experience.”

Inside, a spacious living room greeted us first.

One side was entirely made of curved glass, offering a panoramic view of the night skyline.

Then my eyes landed on something oddly placed beside the sofa and table—a picnic basket.

I had to suppress a small laugh.

Through the slightly open lid, the neck of a wine bottle peeked out.

“These are desserts and souvenirs provided to guests under the picnic package.”

“That’s nice. Sorry for dropping by so suddenly and making unreasonable requests.”

“Not at all.”

“You may go now. I’ll call for staff tomorrow myself.”

“If you need anything, please contact the desk anytime. We hope you have a pleasant stay.”

For some reason, that phrase—“have a pleasant stay”—made me feel oddly self-conscious.

It obviously just meant to rest well, but still.

The hotel staff inserted the key card beside the door and quietly left.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should follow them out, but ended up staying behind with him.

Would he be working here as well?

I carefully placed his tablet and bag on the table.

He sat down on the sofa, took out his phone, and pressed a speed dial.

The call was answered quickly.

“Room check. Yes. Bring the car in the morning.”

After ending the call, he gestured toward the inner part of the room.

“Use whichever bathroom you like.”

“…Am I staying as well?”

At my question, the slight curve of his eyes turned into a smile.

“You don’t seem to like that officetel much.”

“That’s not true.”

“It looked that way.”

I quickly shook my head.

It wasn’t my place to judge that officetel.

It may have been sparsely furnished, but it still had unused rooms and high-end finishes I had never seen before.

More importantly, I wasn’t in a position to say whether I liked it or not.

Was I really that obvious?

I awkwardly brushed my cheek with my palm.

Even though my flustered expression must have been clear, he only looked amused—as if he had solved a puzzle.

Surprisingly, it seemed I had become his favorite source of entertainment lately.

I hadn’t been sure before, but now I could almost tell.

“Go wash up.”

“Yes.”

The bathroom attached to the living room was so large that simply figuring out its layout took effort.

Sliding open the door, I found another glass door ahead—it led to the toilet.

Next to it was a dry area with wooden flooring, a bench, and a sink.

After glancing at the large mirror, I opened the two doors on the left.

One revealed a massive oval bathtub—big enough that even if I lay down, there would still be space beyond my feet.

The other was a shower booth.

I took a robe from the bench and spent a long time washing up.

Water from the ceiling-mounted showerhead streamed down and drained smoothly across the marble floor.

After standing under the hot water for too long, my face felt flushed.

I adjusted the lever, cooling it slightly.

The water ran down my back and flowed away again.

I looked at my open palm.

After tonight, all five fingers would be filled.

Then what would happen?

Nothing would change, probably.

Even if all my fingers folded over.

Even if it happened countless times.

Would this time mean anything?

Lost in those thoughts, I spent longer than I should have.

When I finally came to my senses, dried my hair roughly, and stepped out in the robe, he was still sitting in the darkened living room, in almost the same position as before.

Holding a wine glass, slowly swirling it.

He had clearly been waiting.

He handed me a glass, and I sat a short distance away on the same sofa.

I lifted the glass, filled about a third, and inhaled the aroma.

Swirling it once, I smelled it again.

“How is it?”

“I’m not sure. Is it good?”

“You swirl it well. Who taught you?”

“My sister.”

I held the wine in my mouth, intending to savor it, but ended up swallowing it instead.

As he poured more into my empty glass, I thought—

Maybe it would be better to get drunk.

Even in this constant confusion, I couldn’t properly enjoy anything.

If I were drunk, maybe it would be easier.

He seemed too lazy to bother, filling his glass more than halfway before setting the bottle down.

The label faced away, so I couldn’t see it.

As I glanced at the red wine bottle, my eyes drifted to the night view outside.

Seeing familiar streets from such a height felt strange.

I had never imagined experiencing a suite like this either.

As my gaze wandered, it stopped at the picnic basket on the table.

“Your sister is the eldest daughter-in-law of Wonkang, isn’t she?”

“I didn’t know you were familiar with Wonkang. I thought it was just a small local business.”

“They did a background check when bringing you into the secretary’s office.”

“…I see.”

It was just a regional company, but hearing it from him made it sound like a major conglomerate.

Thinking of my sister, my eyes naturally drifted back to the picnic basket.

Would my nieces and nephews like it if we went on a picnic?

Even though they were my sister’s children, I felt distant from them.

I couldn’t visit often, and every time I did, there seemed to be another child.

My attention had been divided.

And they were raised closely within that household.

I finished my wine and poured another glass myself.

I knew I should pour moderately and savor it—but I didn’t feel like it.

I filled the glass more than halfway.

“Have you ever thought about returning home to work at Wonkang?”

“If I even showed interest thinking I’d benefit from my sister, they’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Yet your sister seems well-established there.”

“She was only acknowledged after her first child was identified as an alpha in elementary school.”

“I see.”

“Before that, her situation wasn’t very good.”

It was something I could say now because it was in the past.

Still, it left a bitter feeling.

Even I could tell how much she had suffered back then.

She married the eldest son of that family as soon as she turned twenty.

Her husband was a good person—but still part of that family.

A person could be kind.

They could even be good.

But changing their foundation entirely was difficult—that was something I learned early.

Every time she visited, her once-round cheeks grew thinner.

Sometimes she couldn’t even come home properly, so we would meet briefly outside.

She had four children like that.

Even though determining traits required time, she was criticized for not having an alpha child.

That was the kind of household it was—still led by a stubborn old man.

As he listened, I noticed his brows furrow slightly.

It was oddly contradictory—someone like him reacting that way.

I let out a faint laugh and covered it by taking another sip of wine.

“In rural areas, it’s common once an omega is identified. Our situation wasn’t good either, so my sister’s marriage was arranged early.”

“Your father passed away when you were young.”

“Yes. It was hard for my mother to raise us alone.”

My mother had tried to avoid marrying my sister off, but even after things improved, she fell ill often.

She passed away the winter I graduated high school.

My sister had said, “I guess Mom wanted to see you grow up first,” while settling the hospital bills.

She looked thin even then.

Grief had dulled into exhaustion.

What remained was a mix of affection, pity, frustration—things I couldn’t put into words.

Avoiding the driver who had accompanied her, she pressed a warm can of coffee into my hand.

“You’re an adult now, you can drink this, right?” she said with a fragile smile.

She hugged me as I struggled to stop crying.

Her coat carried a different scent—

Not the familiar mix of fabric softener and warmth from our home, but something unfamiliar.

As I stared blankly at my glass, he poured more wine and spoke casually.

“You must be close with your sister.”

“I heard you’re close with your younger sister as well.”

“Am I?”

I had heard that, for a family like his, they were unusually close.

But seeing his tilted expression, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Not bad, I suppose. I should call her sometime. See how she’s doing after marriage.”

“She must be doing well.”

“You spend weekends like this with me. Do you even have time to visit her?”

“…No.”

Lately, weekends were impossible.

Even if I wanted to make plans, I couldn’t.

And after meeting him, I was always too exhausted anyway.

The large hand holding the glass moved casually, brushing over my knee—exposed slightly through the gap in my robe.

His hand was cold.

Maybe from holding the wine glass.

Or maybe I was just too warm.

Thinking that, I felt even hotter.