“Knowledge is power.”
“Then that’s exactly why I don’t plan on answering. I’d really prefer it if you stayed very weak.”
As if he hadn’t felt even the slightest impact from the cold response, Eden let out a quiet snort of laughter. Around the time the slightly lifted corner of his left mouth settled back into place, I tore my gaze away from him and started walking again.
The neighborhood, divided by a narrow road, was neatly organized. The moderate noise and leisurely atmosphere calmed my aggressive stride. I loosened the force in the feet that had been stomping against the pavement and glanced sideways.
Eden was following behind me with his hands shoved into his jumper pockets. If my pace slowed, his slowed too. If it looked like I might stop, he hesitated as well. If I walked faster, he picked up speed.
Usually, when someone clumsily imitates another person, they end up looking pathetic, but Eden was the exception. Even if I tripped and he copied that too, he probably still wouldn’t lose an ounce of style.
He was still absurdly handsome from head to toe. Seriously annoying.
The Eden Reed in my memory, once warped by deliberate distortion, was gradually being restored simply by existing alive and breathing beside me again. Even so, just like when I first reunited with him, it still didn’t fully feel real.
Inside me, there were still constant attempts to stubbornly deny the reality of his existence. Even now, I could feel a version of myself violently protesting against accepting the man named Eden Reed.
“Don’t you have anything better to do? Following me around everywhere?”
“Following you around is my job.”
I fixed my eyes straight ahead, careful not to look at him.
“Aren’t you taking your job a little too seriously? Anyone watching would think I’m your entire world. Like I’m your whole universe. Chasing after me so obsessively. You never lose sight of me. People might think I’m the only thing you can see. Someone could misunderstand and—”
“If you drive a car like that, tailing you is way too easy.”
My car came into view alongside the brownstone buildings and street trees. An old sedan the color of grass. It was the first car my mother bought me as a gift after I got my license, and I’d kept driving it ever since.
When she saw the car I picked, my mother had said this:
“Why don’t you think a little more carefully? In a year—no, even half a year—you’re going to regret this choice.”
But it was only now, several years later, that I regretted it. Even then, only a little.
“I-if I drove a different car, what would change?”
“Not much.”
After answering shortly, Eden shrugged and approached my car. He stepped up beside the driver’s seat first and opened the door for me.
The keys were with me. I hadn’t even unlocked it yet.
“You… just now, h-how did you…?”
“Ah, my mistake. I wasn’t planning to make it obvious.”
How far exactly had stalker technology advanced? Whatever it was, was society really okay with cutting-edge technology ending up in the hands of malicious stalkers? Wasn’t it time for severe regulation?
I stared blankly at Eden with my mouth hanging open.
“It really was a mistake.”
He repeated himself calmly, tilting his head toward the inside of the car.
“That’s not the issue here. You unlocked my car. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Pretend you didn’t.”
“You shameless—! This is something the government should regulate, okay? The government. I’m pretty sure there are legal issues here. They should take some kind of action, I mean, arrest you immediately, or—”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Eden answered carelessly as he walked toward me.
“This isn’t something you can just brush off, okay? I mean, this situation is, uh, it’s…”
The closer he got, the more my mouth malfunctioned and made me stumble over my words. It was purely coincidence with absolutely no correlation whatsoever. Even though my body felt broken, the owner of that body—me—felt perfectly fine.
The feeling that only I existed in Eden’s eyes, and conversely that only Eden Reed existed in mine, and the growing surge of exhilaration swelling inside me—all of it was just coincidence too. The reason I swallowed hard was simply because my throat was dry, and the reason my toes curled inside my loafers was habit.
A habit I’d only just developed.
I struggled to control the reactions happening inside my body and snapped irritably.
“If you thought I’d fall for your face, you’re wrong!”
“I never thought that…”
Eden tilted his head and met my eyes. The emerald color beyond his glasses looked like it might drag me straight into some lake. The kind of lake so clear and pristine that even if it were unimaginably deep, it looked shallow enough for your feet to touch the bottom.
“Looks promising, though.”
He muttered quietly, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
That smile, beautiful like a masterpiece painting, sounded an alarm bell in my head.
If I kept dealing with this bastard, I might drown.
***
[Somerset Quinn is a highly marketable commodity. The rookie model who made a dazzling appearance on Company Y’s runway one autumn seemed to know from the very beginning that he would become the star of that space.
That same year, his rise into the agency’s flagship product felt as inevitable as the natural order of things.
The man named Somerset Quinn not only fulfills the role of a model with perfect dedication, but also possesses the unique ability to flawlessly realize people’s fantasies through his sensual atmosphere.
Saying this may cause people to label me conservative or sexist, but the name Somerset King suits Somerset Quinn better than his real name. On the runway, he reigns with arrogant authority as though draped in a king’s mantle. Even the proud celebrities attending the show might find themselves pledging loyalty to Somerset Quinn (King) if they let their guard down for even a moment.
He is an extraordinarily glamorous product. Bronze skin, glossy dark brown hair, and amber eyes that look as though they hold the sun of the equator all display their value within a single spectrum.
His features, as though sculpted painstakingly by a Renaissance master, and his magnificent muscular body—]
The column written by some reporter named John or Carl or James was no different from placing chunks of meat or fish onto a cutting board while wondering what kind of dish to make out of them.
Sometimes it turned into something resembling a decent meal, but most of the time the result was grotesque. Journalists excelled at taking ingredients that had already been carefully prepared and hacking them apart into garbage that looked like it would taste like sewer sludge.
Their main talent was ruining Somerset Quinn—the premium cut of meat, the fresh fish—beyond recognition.
Fortunately, betrayals like that didn’t bother me. I’d already experienced the worst betrayal of my life and had been tempered by it.
Traitor Eden Reed.
Tonight, you can suffer the punishment of stupidly waiting for me while I go into another man’s house. Sit in your car and stare holes through the windows. When the lights go out, imagine what I’m doing with another man and stomp your feet in frustration.
I skimmed through the column my manager had sent me and pressed the doorbell. I was visiting the condominium of my friend, Liam Dalton. Since it was close to the exhibition hall, I often used it like temporary lodging whenever I finished work during rush hour traffic or when, like today, I didn’t want to be alone.
Even after repeatedly pressing the bell, there was no response from inside, so I called him. Right as the long ringing tone cut off, the elevator doors opened and Liam stepped out. The sight of him carrying a stack of thick books was so mismatched that I nearly burst out laughing. I forced my twitching mouth under control and complained.
“What took you so long? I was waiting.”
“This is my house, and you seem to have forgotten that you showed up without warning.”
Liam frowned as he pulled out his keys. Irritation settled over his handsome eyes, wrinkled up like crumpled paper.
The first time I met him at a party hosted by an acquaintance of some designer, he’d been wearing a similarly twisted expression. But the moment he noticed me looking at him, he’d seemed startled, as though I’d caught him bare-faced. Which made sense—Liam was someone extremely skilled at erasing bleak expressions.
After quickly looking away from me, he slipped back into the crowd and put on a different mask along with a smile. The man who dreamed of opening the hottest club in New York gave off less the impression of a future businessman and more that of a pleasure-seeking playboy. It even felt intentional.
In reality, though, he was bored. So bored that it seemed to make his skin itch. If someone beside him raised their voice passionately while talking, he usually reacted appropriately, but it was obvious his soul was somewhere else entirely.
“Be honest. You didn’t hear a word that guy just said, did you? Or you thought he was talking nonsense.”
When the seat beside Liam became empty, I casually approached and whispered that into his ear. Partly because the blond, blue-eyed handsome man satisfied my aesthetic standards, but also because there was something crooked about his atmosphere that felt like a barrier.
He didn’t seem interested in developing a serious relationship with anyone at the party, and my prediction proved correct.
The two of us left the club early that night and moved together as though we’d been part of the same group from the start. Neither of us asked what the other wanted or voiced our desires aloud, but the flow between us was natural. We shared a light kiss in front of a nearby hotel, rented a room, and had sex.
It was a pretty satisfying night.
That’s how Liam Dalton and I became friends—a man with a good-sized cock and decent skills. We got sticky when we climbed into bed together and occasionally exchanged explicit jokes, but otherwise our friendship stayed refreshingly simple.
After I gained a stalker, the sexual aspect disappeared from our relationship, but unexpectedly, things between us didn’t become distant.
“Of course I thought you were home. The lights were on when I looked from outside.”
“Don’t act like a stalker. Why are you checking whether my lights are on?”
“Why am I the stalker? You’ve obviously never experienced real stalking before.”
“You say that like you have.”
Of course I have. I’m experiencing it right now. That black sedan was probably parked across from the condo at this very moment.
I shrugged and changed the subject.
“I’m hungry. Haven’t eaten dinner yet. There’s food in the fridge, right?”
“Even if there is, I’m not giving you any.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll just help myself.”
The moment Liam pulled the key out of the lock, I shoved the door open and walked inside first. When I threw myself onto the sofa, Liam shook his head.
One of the books he placed on the table was a classic everyone recognized by title. I vaguely remembered reading some magazine statistic claiming that while most people liked to say, ‘Ah, that book. Very profound,’ hardly anyone had actually read it.
“You using that as decoration? Bookshelves do look better with impressive books on them.”
“Mind your business. Eat and go home.”
“Why?”
“I want to be alone.”
“I don’t want to be alone. Besides, being with someone’s better than moping around staring at an empty room. Body heat is nice.”
Ever since his roommate left for the weekend, Liam had been strangely subdued. He didn’t seem upset or drained, but he’d been avoiding parties and nightlife in favor of quiet contemplation.
“Did you come here to have sex with me? No, right? Then how are you supposed to feel body heat?”
“You can’t feel it? I’m warming up the air around me.”
I raised both arms and wiggled them like coral reefs swaying in ocean currents. At the ridiculous gesture, Liam lifted one corner of his mouth slightly before quickly letting it fall again.
“You’re seriously insane.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Want some stew? I made a lot.”
“I do. If I keep whining, you look like you’ll kick me out immediately.”
“You catch on quick.”
Since he said he made it himself, I honestly hadn’t expected much, but the lamb stew tasted good. Eating it with pieces of baguette made for a surprisingly filling meal.
