"Depends. At home, seafood fried rice and soup. At school, pancakes or sandwiches with cappuccino."
Shin nodded, taking mental notes. He made a point of remembering what she liked—and what she didn't.
"Black coffee and egg tartine…" he mumbled to himself.
"Sorry?" Yeri glanced at him. "Did you just say something?"
Shin didn't answer. Instead, he just studied her, quiet and thoughtful.
Meanwhile, behind a conveniently large indoor plant, Butler Hong was shamelessly spying with sparkles in his eyes. So harmonious! So domestic! Just add a mini Shin, and the picture will be perfect.
Yeri, blissfully unaware of the butler's delusions, moved on to the porridge. Shin, meanwhile, pretended to read documents while sneaking glances at her enjoying the food. She ate with grace, like a quiet heiress at a countryside manor—not that she'd ever admit it.
After breakfast, Yeri wandered back toward Shin Keir's room but paused halfway, eyes catching the open view beyond the glass walls.
There it was—a sprawling red rose garden unlike any she had ever seen.
It wasn't just a rose garden. It was an empire. Neatly trimmed rose shrubs, trellises with climbing vines, blooming arches, labyrinthine paths...a breathtaking world painted in crimson.
She stood still, stunned. How does an infamous tyrant with the emotional range of a toddler have such an artistic soul?
This somehow doesn't match his temparament.
From behind, Shin walked up quietly, arms folded, face blank as ever, like a statue that just got bored of standing still.
What Yeri didn't know was the real story behind the roses.
When the estate was first built, Butler Hong had commented on how empty and boring the land looked. Shin, annoyed with the frequent uninvited visits from Tristan and Saeki, offhandedly said, "Paint it red. That way, if I spill their blood, it won't look out of place."
Butler Hong, ever the proactive madman, took that sarcastic comment as gospel. He hired top-tier landscapers, and before Shin could protest, a crimson garden bloomed like a crime scene curated by angels.
A cool breeze stirred the rose petals, fluttering Yeri's shirt and tousling her hair. The flowers danced like flames, and for a moment, time seemed to still.
Shin's eyes darkened. That strange dream.
In that dream, he'd found himself walking through a dense forest. The trees were towering and so thick that the sky was completely hidden. Moss blanketed the forest floor, and the silence was suffocating.
Eventually, the trees gave way to a strange red forest—red trees, red grass, red sky.
He walked, possessed by something unseen, until he reached a massive red-flowered tree.
Beneath it stood a woman.
She wore a flowing red dress. Her long silver hair rippled in the wind. She turned slowly—and it was Yeri.
No, not quite. Similar, but older. More mature. Taller. Bewitching blood-red lips, her red eyes sparkled like rubies, but they were empty, emotionless—like a doll that had long forgotten how to feel.
The woman acted surprised, tilted her head, and she smiled sweetly and said, in a voice like velvet:
"You are here."
Instantly, Shin felt unprecedented remorse, hatred, and loss.
Unexpectedly, the woman was barefoot—but she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. She moved with a quiet grace, her back perfectly straight as though balancing a crown invisible to everyone but herself. Her long red dress flitted around her ankles like a mischievous fairy playing tag with the wind. Even her delicate feet, which touched the earth as if it were sacred, were pristine and unmarked, like she'd never stepped on anything rougher than velvet.
A single sprout of grass stood in her way—bold, defiant. She paused, then casually extended her hand, a long crimson nail catching the morning light. With a tiny prick of her forefinger, a drop of blood landed on the blade of grass. It shimmered briefly, then turned red, vibrant and unnatural.
She looked his way again, smiling like she held a secret she would never tell.
As she approached, Shin found himself frozen, unable—or unwilling—to move. Her arms, cool and soft, slipped around his neck. A scent, intoxicating and foreign, enveloped him.
She leaned closer, parted her lips, and whispered with a condemning voice that was both music and poison:
"Why did you kill me?"
Shin jerked awake, breath ragged, forehead beaded with cold sweat. His heart thudded against his ribs like it wanted out. Light was just beginning to seep through the curtains of his study, painting the room in soft gray.
He sat still for a long moment.
That dream. The vividness of it—her scent, her voice, the impossible bizarre red forest. It had felt more real than some of his meetings from the day before.
"…Tch." He ran a hand through his hair, brushing the lingering unease aside. Just a dream, nothing more.
However, the current sight of Yeri standing by the rose garden somehow overlapped with the woman in his dream—different dress, but something about her posture, her calm… uncanny.
Out of pure curiosity, he walked toward her and asked with the gravity of a detective solving a murder, "Do you cosplay?"
"…"
Yeri turned to him, genuinely baffled. Did she hear that right? "…What?"
"I asked if you cosplay. Or if you've ever tried it," he repeated with the same flat, unreadable tone that made him sound like he was asking about her blood type.
She blinked at him. "No. Why?"
"Are you sure? Not even once?" he asked, as if he were confirming an alibi.
Yeri stared at him, suspicion rapidly blooming. Was this his way of flirting? No, wait. Was this his fetish?
Mother of mercy. Was the nation's dream husband… into cosplay?
She cleared her throat, warily. "I don't. I swear."
Shin nodded with a thoughtful hum, completely misreading the growing horror in her eyes.
In her head, Yeri was already rewriting his image. Of course he's single. It's not that he's picky—it's because he's hiding a scandalous kink. Poor man. So successful, so handsome, and so… doomed by his secret.
Meanwhile, Shin had already moved on. "No rush leaving. I can drive you back to your dorm whenever you're ready."
"I'll just take a bath first," Yeri said, needing some time to recover—and possibly consult an exorcist.
As she walked away, she cast one more glance over her shoulder at Shin's lean frame. Nothing wrong with having a fetish, she reasoned. Just… find someone equally into it. Preferably someone who won't faint if he shows up dressed as a vampire in the bedroom.
Back in the room, a surprise awaited her on the bed: a knee-length pink spring dress, neatly folded, brand tag still attached—but no price.
She looked at it, blinked, then muttered, "Is this compensation? A bribe? A peace offering for accusing me of being a cosplayer?"
Regardless, she had nothing else to wear, and it wasn't like she couldn't afford to repay him later. Besides, it was cute.
When she descended the stairs, Butler Hong greeted her with the formality of a royal herald. "Young Lady, would you permit this old man the honor of showing you around the estate?"
"…"
"The Young Master is still working out," he added, more casually. "Should be done in half an hour."
Ah. That was code for 'Don't go looking for him unless you want to see something that might cause long-term emotional damage.'
She agreed, and together they stepped outside into the bright, crisp morning. The grounds were expansive, filled with soft green slopes and shaded paths. In the distance stood a Victorian-style gazebo by a sparkling pond where koi swam like ornamental jewels.
"Is this part of a golf course?" Yeri asked.
"You're quite observant," Butler Hong replied with a smile. "Have you heard of Sin Mille Golf Course? This estate is located within its private grounds, though still quite distant from the actual course."
Yeri's eyes widened. Of course she'd heard of it. Her dad worshipped it like a sacred temple. Membership was by invitation only—status and wealth meant nothing if you weren't handpicked.
"You mentioned other villas?" she asked.
"Yes, three in total. The Young Master's cousins and two close friends own them. As for that loud-mouthed peacock this morning—rest assured, he doesn't live here."
Yeri chuckled. "Peacock?"
"The name fits," Butler Hong said with a shrug. "Shiny, noisy, and constantly showing off."
"He was kind of bold, though. Talking to Shin Keir like that."
"He's not worth the Young Master's anger," Butler Hong said plainly, as if stating the weather.
They reached the gazebo, and Yeri leaned against the railing, admiring the pond. "It's all very beautiful. Peaceful."
"Is there anything you liked in particular?" the old man asked, eyes twinkling with hope.
She hesitated. This sounded suspiciously like matchmaking.
"Um… the rose garden. It's gorgeous."
Butler Hong lit up. "Ah, that was my design! I use the petals to make rose tea. Would you like to try some?"
Before she could answer, he was already trotting away with the energy of a much younger man.
Meanwhile, Shin was finishing up in the gym. As he peeled off his shirt, Butler Hong popped in, all enthusiasm.