The firmness in his voice shattered my misunderstanding, and laughter burst out of me. Embarrassment over my stupid mistake surfaced immediately, and heat unrelated to the early summer temperature rose to my face until it burned.
“That was pretty pathetic of me, huh?”
“Probably.”
“Tell me it wasn’t.”
“There’s maybe a 1% chance it wasn’t.”
Mentioning another tiny percentage, the man shrugged. Barely managing to suppress my laughter, I pleaded with him.
“Raise it to 2%. Then my face might cool down a little. At this rate, I might explode.”
In truth, I was already calming down without his help. As though he saw right through that, he refused to grant my request, and for some reason that made me laugh again.
The more we talked, the more I thought I’d done the right thing by forcing myself into his line of sight. Waiting anxiously for him to come back while facing the hot air outside had been worth it. My attention shifted to the paper cup in his hand.
“What are you drinking? What’s your taste like?”
“Coffee.”
Instead of explaining further, the man held the cup out to me. I cracked the lid open slightly and smelled it. Even back then, he drank dark black coffee.
“The smell’s nice, but it’s gone cold.”
“Because someone kept talking to me.”
“Then that someone must’ve been really attractive. You couldn’t ignore them long enough to keep your coffee hot.”
“Well. Not enough to get flustered.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose and winked at him—a look that had already made countless people’s hearts race before.
“Want me to recommend better coffee? You just moved here, so I bet you don’t know.”
“I won’t refuse. Which café?”
“Not a café. Here. My house, right next door to yours. Want to come in?”
At home there was coffee brewed from beans suited to Mom’s refined tastes. I invited him over intending to serve him some, but he didn’t readily accept.
“I recently read a novel. In it, whenever a handsome guy like you seduces someone, there’s an 80% chance a murder happens. Luring people into your house or taking them somewhere isolated and killing them.”
If it was a joke, it wasn’t funny. If he meant it seriously, it was rude. But I laughed. Even hearing something unpleasant felt refreshing. I’d become ridiculously easy to amuse since earlier.
“So even you think I’m dangerously attractive. Characters like that are always described that way.”
Showing off traces of my former bookworm self, I snatched the paper cup from his hand.
At my mischievous little stunt, he tilted his head. His shimmering blond hair made even the smallest movement dramatic. In the moderately warm weather, sweat had gathered on his pale jade-like forehead. He brushed back his hair and lightly closed and opened his eyes.
If murderers were chosen based on fatal charm, he’d have looked suspicious too. Completely captivated by him, I found myself thinking he was teasing me far more than I was teasing him. I’d only smell his coffee briefly before giving it back, but it felt like he wouldn’t so easily return the attention he’d stolen from me.
If he’d done it intentionally, I would’ve held him responsible. It was a shame I couldn’t.
Unconsciously plundering me, the man spoke.
“Will you give it back?”
We spoke the same language, and his accent wasn’t particularly distinctive, but his voice stood out strangely in my ears. And once I started hoping my own voice sounded just as clear to him, I unconsciously put a little force into my throat.
“You’re really going to reject my invitation? Neighbors should get along.”
“Who would that benefit?”
“Well obviously, me.”
In the end, the man rejected my invitation. As he took back his coffee and prepared to leave, I asked him:
“What’s your name? I’m Somerset Quinn.”
Pulling the thick book against his chest, he answered.
“Alex Howard.”
“Alex Howard.”
I pronounced the name he’d given me carefully and grinned wide, unaware that it was the name of the author who wrote Humanity. I’d been completely fooled by a liar.
“See you around, Alex.”
Stepping backward, he took a sip of coffee.
“Yeah, kid.”
“What? Kid? In what way?”
“Innocence.”
Being suddenly treated like some innocent little kid made me flare up. When I frowned, he answered with a subtle smile. For a moment, I thought the vitality radiating from him suited the title of the book perfectly.
Humanity.
But looking back, that had been a huge misunderstanding. Eden Reed was not human. He was cold-blooded, and he was a traitor.
Stalker
[Sleep well.]
I was furious at him for sending a message as if nothing had happened. He was the one who’d pushed me off a cliff with a few careless words, yet he acted like an innocent person.
“You asshole.”
Inside my head, there was still a version of me excitedly talking to the guy next door. Reminding that foolish version of myself about the current Eden Reed, I went to bed. Even if I had to toss and turn all night, I’d try not to think about him.
Though trying not to think about him meant I was thinking about him to some extent already.
Fuck. A filthy, unbearably long night was waiting for me.
***
How long had it been since the skin beneath my eyes darkened like this? I looked so drained even my eyelashes seemed to droop weakly. I glared at my reflection in the elevator mirror before walking out. The clear blue sky tried to chase away my fatigue, but it didn’t help much. I clenched my jaw and endured it, only to let out a huge yawn the moment I got into the car.
Coincidentally, I hadn’t been sleeping well since that day. Knowing exactly what the cause was only made the solution feel more distant and hopeless. Eden Reed would never move according to my wishes.
He existed inside my brain like something toxic. Every time he surfaced in my thoughts, my face twisted into a frown automatically and my mood worsened, so staying away from him was the best option. Fighting off the threat he posed to me, I started the engine.
The meeting place wasn’t far. Considering New York’s horrible traffic, walking would’ve been better for a short distance like this, but I didn’t have that luxury. The problem was the stalker who would walk after me if I walked. The distance created by a car was preferable.
I stopped my eyes from drifting toward the side mirror and drove off. Sophisticated jazz filled the car, but before long I had to turn it off. Instead, Mag Able’s excited voice poured through the phone.
—It’s not like you don’t know who Tamara White is, and yet you’re rejecting her even when she’s willing to accommodate your convenience. You’re probably the only model alive who dislikes becoming famous, Somerset.
“I am special.”
—Somerset. I think Ms. Able was being sarcastic.
Ben cut in, speaking quietly but not softly enough. We were on a three-way call because Able didn’t want to meet him in person. Meaning everything Ben said could also be heard by Able, and there was no way he didn’t know that. Traits like this were part of what made Able uncomfortable around him.
—Somerset was also being sarcastic.
—Ah, Ms. Able. You misunderstand. The Somerset I know isn’t someone petty enough to attack others.
—Then are you saying I’m someone petty enough to attack others…? No, no. Forget it. Convincing Somerset is the priority right now.
If her conversation partner hadn’t been Ben, Able probably would’ve raised her voice already. But rather than prolong a conversation with him, she chose to rein herself in and get straight to the point.
—Somerset. Please seriously reconsider this. Do you know how many people would kill to work with Tamara? There’s practically a line.
Ben, sharing Able’s opinion, chimed in.
—If Somerset and Tamara work together, it’ll be an incredible opportunity for both of them. The synergy would be huge.
When I stayed silent, Able grew impatient. And understandably so. Tamara White had recently risen into stardom thanks to her connections with a world-famous pop singer. Considering the influence of someone hailed as the hottest celebrity around, Able pressured me with specific numbers, insisting the music video would easily surpass hundreds of millions of views.
—You may be a successful model now, but do you think that’ll last forever? Of course not. We’re living in an era where influencers dominate the fashion industry. You need to follow the flow of the times. The more famous you are, the more acknowledged you become.
What she said made a lot of sense.
It just didn’t interest me.
“Able, you know talking to me like that won’t work.”
Sighing, Able mentioned the title of a movie. Even when a production company had personally invited me to audition for a blockbuster film that later became a massive hit, I hadn’t regretted refusing. I’d never wanted the wealth and fame the lead actor gained from it. Meanwhile, Able had acted as though something rightfully mine had been stolen away.
—Richardson. One of a manager’s responsibilities is pushing their model so they can grow.
Apparently deciding she could no longer reason with me, she started pressuring Ben instead. Of course, Ben wasn’t easy to push around.
—Somerset. Ms. Able is saying that, so what should I do? Should I start pushing you?
Lowering his voice as though whispering directly into my ear, he asked me that question. Once again, he was taking advantage of the fact that Able could hear everything. Matching his shameless strategy, I answered quietly.
“No. You’re my manager, Ben. You just need to follow the qualities I want.”
—Understood.
Ben usually refrained from saying or doing things that went against the wishes of me, his employer. He instantly changed his attitude from trying to persuade me alongside Able and addressed her instead.
—Ms. Able, it seems Somerset has a different opinion. I agree with you, so it’s very unfortunate. Appearing in Tamara White’s music video would’ve been good for Somerset, but it can’t be helped.
At this rate, Able’s Benjamin Richardson avoidance syndrome would probably continue for quite some time.
—Hey! Are you forgetting I can hear you— …No, forget it.
