The car ride to Rihan’s mansion was silent.
Outside, the city glimmered faintly under the remnants of stormlight — wet streets reflecting the red of traffic lights like smudged ink.
Inside the black sedan, only the low hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of tires against rain broke the stillness.
Mirae sat in the back seat between Joonseo and Harim.
Rihan drove.
Taewoo rode up front, uncharacteristically quiet, tapping his finger against the window as if counting invisible seconds.
No one spoke for the first twenty minutes.
When the car turned down the long private road leading to the Seo estate, the headlights caught the wrought-iron gates — open, waiting.
Rihan frowned. “They should be locked.”
“Maybe the guard—” Harim began.
“There is no guard tonight,” Rihan cut in. “I
