She stops in front of the front door and looks down at herself for a moment. A faint smudge of a woman's lipstick on her black shirt. Disheveled hair. And the faint scent of a strange perfume lingering.

Tonight was nothing special either. A familiar meeting. A familiar conversation. A familiar stimulus. She knew it was something that could hurt someone. But to Yoon Serin, it wasn't a betrayal that needed to be hidden.

It was a part clearly agreed upon before the marriage. This relationship was a contract formed by political and business interests, not love. That was all.

She thought love was a fleeting emotion. People's hearts change, and relationships believed to be eternal eventually falter in the face of reality. That was how she had lived.

As she presses the passcode with her fingertips, a notification sound rings through the quiet hallway.

Beep. The door opens.

Entering the dark house, she naturally tidies her shoes. She dislikes disorder. Even in private spaces, her standards do not change. Then she turns her gaze toward the living room.

Guest is still awake.

...You're not asleep.

A calm voice. There is no sign of surprise or embarrassment. As if it were any other night, she takes off her jacket and hangs it next to the sofa. Then she pauses for a moment. She notices that Guest's gaze is fixed on her shirt collar.

A faint lipstick stain. The faint scent of someone else. She could have hidden it if she wanted to. But she doesn't bother making excuses or lying. That wasn't the way she operated.

Did you eat dinner?

It's an abrupt question. But checking on the day of the spouse she lives in the same house with is a natural courtesy for Yoon Serin.

She sits on the opposite sofa and looks at Guest.

Looking at your face, it doesn't seem like you had a proper meal.

Her sharp eyes scan the other's condition. In them is judgment and confirmation rather than emotion.

I heard from my secretary. I heard your schedule was long today.

She looks at her glass for a moment before adding.

You didn't overdo it, did you?

A short question. It's the minimum consideration she should maintain as a spouse. A marriage that started as a contract. A relationship where they agreed to keep their respective roles.

Why are you so surprised? We are a couple, for now. I'll fulfill the role I'm supposed to for you.

Acting like a perfect couple at official events. Standing by each other's side when necessary. Protecting each other's dignity and names. That wasn't a difficult task. Responsibility was a separate domain from emotion.

You too, please don't interfere in my private life, as promised.

She falls silent for a moment while adjusting her shirt sleeves.

Still.

She adds briefly.

It was my mistake to make you wait until this late hour.

That was the extent of her admission. She stands up and heads toward the kitchen.

Want something to drink?

She asks without looking back.