Snake Hole

"Is that her?"

The second-floor balcony railing of the mansion, surrounded by pine trees that twisted and stretched high into the sky. The man, leaning forward with his upper body, fixed his gaze on the woman ascending the stairs that connected to the garden.

"Right. They say it's the woman Father brought."

A faint contempt laced Oh Seung-mi's tone.

Hee-eon looked down at the girl who still hadn't shaken off her youth, a barely-there smirk tugging at his lips.

Wrapped head to toe in designer pieces she'd just untagged, she looked no older than mid-twenties at best. Her clothes didn't fit, her bearing was unpolished, and her steps wobbled as she tried to steady herself. He'd tried not to laugh, but the unmissable provincial awkwardness tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Does she fit your taste this time?"

Oh Seung-mi stood beside him, her abundant hair defying her age, tied back in a single ponytail.

"Not at all."

His voice carried its usual languid drawl, and Oh Seung-mi chuckled softly.

The old man, whose whereabouts had been unknown for so long he'd turned the household upside down, had brought a young woman here. To the Sahwa villa, no less—a place that didn't admit just anyone.

That decision had drawn every relative and key figure in the Sa family to the main house. They needed to check on the old man's condition after his disappearance and were curious about the young woman.

Hee-eon, however, had no interest. He didn't belong to their world—or rather, he refused to.

She was someone whose depths couldn't be fathomed, yet she wore a gentle smile. Her cool demeanor was lonely, almost strangely twisted.

The family called Sa Hee-eon a single orchid blooming in a vast snowfield.

They said the flowers around him withered and died easily because he was too aloof.

It was mockery wrapped in plausible words, but their insults never reached him.

A heartless, unreadable, pretty young master.

Sa Hee-eon. That's what they called him here.

"Keep an eye on her. Our old man's been in a better mood lately."

"I hope he gets even healthier."

"Don't say strange things. Anyway, the week after next is your wife's death anniversary. Are you going?"

No.

He answered Oh Seung-mi's question with the response she'd already decided to hear, his indifferent gaze fixed on the woman's back.

She'd be staying in the annex—the building closest to his studio, of all places.

Then the balcony door opened, and the sound of a lighter flicking on came from the noisy interior.

"It's too loud in there."

Thick cigarette smoke and the heavy perfume Hee-eon disliked hit him all at once.

Oh Seung-mi, who'd been showing irritation moments before, turned to Sa Jae-eon with a wide smile and waved it off.

"Oh, you're so particular."

"It's been ten years since Grandfather took someone in, right?"

"I can't see that girl handling soil, no matter how I think about it."

"Everyone seems to think the same."

Sa Jae-eon, cigarette in mouth, clapped a hand on Hee-eon's shoulder in a show of camaraderie. The six-years-older Jae-eon had a sturdy build from years of exercise—the opposite of Hee-eon in every way.

If they had anything in common, it was their unusually black hair. Not a hint of brown, dark enough to seem blueish. It made Hee-eon's skin look even paler.

Jae-eon exhaled smoke slowly, his narrow eyes scanning the woman's retreating figure.

"She looks like she'd handle things other than soil, don't you think?"

The usually taciturn businessman's unpleasant chuckle bordered on malicious. He was unsettled—just trying to hide it with a casual air.

The stranger's arrival had stirred even the immovable Jae-eon, making her a topic for everyone.

Hee-eon slipped out of Jae-eon's arm and turned his gaze away from the woman.

"Aunt's about to collapse."

At Hee-eon's indifferent remark, the two men glanced into the inner room. In the second-floor reception room, his aunt had finally raised her voice and was now clutching her forehead, stumbling backward.

Hee-eon's lips curled into a smirk at their over-the-top display, like a scene from a morning drama.

"Oh my! Aunt!"

Oh Seung-mi, feigning shock out of politeness, rushed inside. Jae-eon crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and spoke.

"How long do you plan to stay here?"

A long plume of smoke brushed Hee-eon's cheek. He remained expressionless, resting both elbows on the railing.

"Haven't really thought about it."

"What, still in mourning? It's not that."

"Maybe. Maybe I am mourning."

At Hee-eon's indifferent reply, a faint line appeared between Jae-eon's brows.

Hee-eon's secret freedom and indulgence, his mysterious nature—they were beyond what anyone could grasp through experience.

The man who'd gone through with a marriage everyone opposed, only to become a widower in just three years.

Difficult. Jae-eon thought he was a bastard who couldn't be defined in one word.

"Grandfather took her in, but she's ultimately attached to you."

Jae-eon met Hee-eon's gaze as the younger man slowly lifted his long lashes. Jae-eon's eyes and the corners of his mouth tightened. The meaning was clear without uttering any vile words.

Sahwa 沙華

The great-great-grandfather who'd passed away before Hee-eon was born had first chosen the family name, meaning "flower blooming on rocky cliffs."

After the Japanese colonial period, the great-great-grandfather founded Sahwa Materials, starting as a trading company exporting goods to Asian countries before changing the name to Sahwa Industrial Co., Ltd. But he didn't stop there. After acquiring a Japanese semiconductor company, he swallowed up every industry in South Korea.

There was no business in South Korea or across Asia that Sahwa's hands didn't touch, no technology they didn't brush against. Their defense patents alone were numerous enough to fill a Guinness Book, and through such diverse expansion, Sahwa became what it is today.

But to Hee-eon, it was like a story from another world.

He lived off the money Sahwa made—bought clothes, ate, slept—but he always refused to belong to them.

He simply repeated the cycle of touching soil, shaping it, refining it, heating it, and destroying it.

"Your last exhibition was great. I'll set up another schedule soon, so move. Don't just hole up in a place like this."

At Jae-eon's words, tossed out like a suggestion, Hee-eon smiled as he always did.

"Thanks, hyung."

"It's cold. Let's go inside."

As if concluding the conversation, Sa Jae-eon turned and went inside.

Only after the strong scent of perfume faded did Hee-eon turn back and rest his elbows on the railing.

The wind that heralded winter was cold. He preferred this chilling cold to the heat filled with hatred, lament, and madness.

"You'll be staying here."

A noble prison covered in ancient pines and nameless shrubs. That was her first impression when she faced this mansion.

Yeon-jae gave a slight nod to the servant who'd carried her suitcase for her. Her toes and heels ached as if cut by a knife from the high heels she'd never bothered to look at before, but she didn't show it.

"This is the annex, separate from the main house. Only family members may enter the main house, so please be mindful. Use the left garden for walks. Someone will come twice a day to clean and tidy. Meals will be prepared on time, so I hope you'll be comfortable."

Her voice, as if reciting a set script—or rather, the annex user manual—made Yeon-jae answer softly, "Yes."

Perhaps from not speaking for too long, her voice came out hoarse, and she had to cough.

"I'll show you to the bedroom."

"No, thank you. I'll take my time looking around."

She wanted to be alone as soon as possible.

The man she'd refused couldn't hide his contempt, his brows furrowing slightly, but he bowed and turned away.

The moment the man who'd guided her here stepped out the front door, Yeon-jae did one thing: she took off her high heels.

Ah, shit.

Her bare feet touched the cold marble floor, and a sharp electric sensation shot through her. She crouched down, clutching her red, swollen feet.

Then she looked around with wide, rabbit-like eyes.

"This place is disgustingly nice."

What was the reason for building a gloomy mansion in this isolated, mountainous area that felt like the middle of nowhere?

The mansions of conglomerate chairmen she'd seen in media were mostly in prestigious wealthy neighborhoods—not in the mountains like this.

Plus, they'd driven for a long time after passing the main gate, and only after going through an archway like a castle gate did a livable building appear.

In other words, if something happened, running away barefoot was impossible. She pressed her teeth against her red lips.

Even though she'd volunteered herself, now that she'd entered, her body felt tightly wound.

Jeong Yeon-jae, you walked into this snake hole of your own free will.

Remembering that fact, a cold shiver ran through her entire body.