The corridor was quiet again.
Rina remained still, staring at the empty space Jin had just left. Her breath trembled faintly in her chest, as though it didn't know if it should speed up or slow down.
Her golden eyes, usually so sharp and unwavering, were wide, clouded, uncertain. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, none of them forming fully.
He hadn't apologized.
He hadn't tried to comfort her.
And yet, he'd said things that clung to her ribs like hooks.
> "I wanted to see you."
> "You don't have to like me."
> "But you will stand beside me."
And worst of all—
> "You're stronger than you think."
Those words. That voice. That *look*.
It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't seduction. It was something in between. Something colder… and yet, more intimate.
She hated how steady he was.
How his smile never cracked.
How his tone never wavered.
How he looked at her like she was a puzzle—one he was already solving.
Rina pressed her back harder against the wall and slid down until she sat on the cold marble floor, her knees pulled toward her chest.
She touched her face, half-expecting the heat on her cheeks to burn her fingers.
*I shouldn't be like this,* she thought bitterly. *I'm not supposed to care. I just met him. This is political. Nothing more.*
But. Jin Rochey wasn't just *anyone*.
And his presence wasn't easy to ignore.
It filled a room like a quiet fire—never roaring, never demanding… but always threatening to consume.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
No matter what he said or how he looked at her, she wouldn't let herself fall under his spell. She *couldn't*.
Because behind that polite smile, behind the red eyes and perfect posture, she sensed something dangerous.
Something deeply, deeply wrong.
....
Inside the Sitting Room – Moments Earlier
Leona leaned against the ornate chaise lounge, her silver brows furrowed slightly as she stared toward the door Jin had exited through. Her arms were crossed, but her fingers were tapping lightly against her elbow.
"He's… strange," she finally said, her voice cautious, like she didn't know whether to whisper or speak plainly.
Amelia Amberhart, still seated with a straight spine and legs crossed, sipped her tea slowly. Her expression didn't shift—composed, cool, unreadable.
But inside, her mind was far from calm.
> He never stutters.
> He never hesitates.
> His smile never changes.
Even when he was drenched in sweat, half-shirtless, and standing before three women of power, Jin Rochey didn't break character. Not once.
No embarrassment. No shame. No misplaced humility.
He had said exactly what he wanted to say, and then left when he was finished.
Amelia had watched every twitch of his eye, every breath in his chest, every glimmer of emotion—or lack thereof.
He hadn't once looked to impress.
He wasn't seeking approval.
And when he noticed them noticing the ribbon—Estelle's ribbon—he didn't even acknowledge it.
He *knew* what he was doing.
Still, Amelia kept her voice calm as she replied to Leona.
"He was raised by Naoko," she said plainly.
Leona looked at her. "That explains a lot."
"It explains everything."
Her fingers tightened slightly on her teacup. The name *Naoko* always stirred something uneasy in her gut—a tension that was hard to describe. It was like being in a room where someone had left poison on the air, and everyone was too polite to mention it.
Leona hesitated. "Do you trust him?"
Amelia looked at her then—finally meeting her eyes. Her golden gaze was sharp, layered with something that looked like calculation and warning both.
"No," she said simply. "But I respect him."
There was a pause. Then, she added:
"And so should you."
Leona nodded faintly, but the discomfort didn't leave her posture.
Amelia leaned back in her seat, placing her cup down on the saucer with perfect grace. Her expression remained still, but her mind was storming.
> He didn't apologize to Rina. Not even when he saw her distress.
> He didn't soften.
> He didn't flinch.
He only offered her a truth—a *position*—and expected her to accept it.
Just like his mother.
*Naoko taught him well.*
But there was something Amelia couldn't ignore. In the way he looked at Rina. In the way his voice lowered—not to manipulate, but to reach her.
It wasn't affection. Not yet. But it *was* attention. Intention.
And intention, from someone like Jin, was never without weight.
Amelia's golden eyes narrowed slightly, thoughts turning inward.
> He doesn't see Rina as weak.
> He doesn't pity her.
> He's watching her. Measuring her.
And Rina… she was already reacting. She was blushing, flustered, breathless. If Amelia didn't step in soon, her daughter might start *feeling* something.
That could be dangerous.
She exhaled softly, fingers brushing her lips.
No… she needed to understand Jin more.
This was no ordinary engagement. No simple political arrangement.
This was a match laced with tension, power, and something darker. Something *twisting* beneath the surface.
And the boy with the smile that never wavered?
He was either going to break her daughter…
…or awaken something she had long tried to bury.
......