Ebony Castle

The sky had been gloomy as if it was going to rain since the morning. As Yeon Doha exited the station and lifted his head, the buildings lined up on both sides of the street were also shrouded in a dull, monochromatic tone.Yeon Doha inhaled the sharp winter air and merged into the crowd heading to work. There were so many people that he barely needed to walk, being pushed along. Unfortunately, some construction work seemed to be underway in front of the station, blocking the road, while the sidewalk was so narrow that only two people could pass at a time. Office workers dressed in suits and people on bicycles were struggling to squeeze through the narrow space.After passing through while protecting his bag, the path opened up, and red, square brick buildings stood on both sides. The hurried office workers dispersed, some entering the open office doors, others heading into shops or restaurants on the ground floor. In the distance, the tall trees of Berkeley Square came into view.It seemed like this was the place. Doha paused, pulling out his phone to check the address, but then stopped and raised his eyes. Across the street, quite a crowd had gathered around one side of an old-fashioned building made of white, non-glossy stone. Half of the first floor seemed to be a gallery, with a large glass window displaying a work resembling a series of thin, golden arches. Above the building’s entrance, the words “LOCKE HOUSE” were engraved in gold letters, and below that, in smaller text, “LOCKE HOLDINGS.”The secretary answered the phone after ten rings. The voice on the other end was calm and unfamiliar.— Yes, you said you’re in front of the building?“Should I go inside? There are a lot of people outside…”— The door won’t open without an access card. Where exactly are you standing? Can you see the entrance to the lobby?“Ah… yes, I think I see it.”— If you wait there, I’ll come out to meet you.“Alright.”As he approached, the people gathered around gave him a glance. Beyond the glass door with a heavy metal handle, he could see a modern, sleek lobby and gate similar to a subway turnstile, where access cards were scanned. Although the building’s exterior looked as if it had been built centuries ago, the interior gleamed with marble and metal in a modern design.Soon, a familiar man in a suit appeared from one of the lobby elevators, walking closer. Recognizing the secretary’s face, Doha almost waved his hand without thinking.“Please, come inside.”The secretary spoke, thoroughly ignoring the murmuring crowd as he opened the glass door for Doha.“Thank you.”As Doha passed through the door and the access gate that the secretary held open, he couldn’t help but glance at the secretary multiple times. It felt surreal seeing someone he had only known from the mansion now standing in London. It was as if someone who shouldn’t be here had appeared in front of him.The secretary was dressed in his usual black suit, but unlike at the mansion, where his outfit seemed out of place, it now looked natural and comfortable. It felt as though he had finally returned to where he belonged, having just temporarily appeared in the mismatched backdrop of the mansion.As they rode the elevator up, the secretary, perhaps noticing Doha’s lingering gaze, spoke dryly.“It’s only been ten days, but it feels like quite a while.”“Yes, it does.”The elevator stopped on the third floor. As Doha stepped out, he asked,“Did the move go smoothly?”“Yes. Most of the necessary belongings have been transferred to the London mansion. Of course, I’ve moved separately to my own apartment.”Doha fell silent. Now that he thought about it, the situation in Scotland had been unique, where the secretary and the employer had no choice but to live together. In London, there was no such need. The thought that neither the secretary nor Jean would be living in Tristan’s house anymore felt strange.“Please, come in.”The secretary opened a door and stepped aside. It was a small, empty conference room. Next to the windows overlooking Berkeley Square stood an oval table and leather chairs.Doha, who had expected to head straight to Tristan’s office, stopped at the doorway, turning to look at the secretary. Their eyes met, and Doha couldn’t hide his expression in time.“Mr. Locke…”He started to speak but trailed off, realizing the secretary’s faint irritation had flashed across his face.“You’re not here to see the CEO, are you? He’s very busy. Since his return last week, he’s been getting less than two hours of sleep a day, handling work.”The secretary pulled out a chair for Doha by the window and then sat down across from him.“If you have any business with the CEO, please tell me, his secretary. I will relay the message and contact you, Ms. Eden, once I receive a response.”“…Alright.”“Did you bring the documents I mentioned?”Snapping back to attention at the question, Doha quickly took out the thin file from his bag and placed it on the table.“Here they are.”“Thank you.”The secretary sat down and skimmed through the contract inside the file, then made a brief phone call on his mobile. Soon, there was a knock, and the conference room door opened to reveal a large man in a suit. The secretary introduced him to Doha.“This is Alex Hartley, a lawyer from Locke Holdings’ legal team.”“Oh, I see.”The palms they clasped were cold and smooth. The secretary didn’t introduce Doha to the lawyer, and the lawyer didn’t ask, as if it were only natural. Despite the lawyer’s face being plump and wrinkled, giving a seemingly benevolent impression, his gaze remained polite but distant, hovering somewhere beyond Doha, as though focused on the wall behind.As the two men skimmed through the contract, Doha took a moment to survey the small conference room before stepping towards the window. It seemed the rain had finally started. Outside, Mayfair was becoming a hazy shade of gray, drenched in rain.This company didn’t feel like it belonged to Tristan Locke. The lobby and conference room were certainly luxurious and immaculate, but they lacked warmth. Every room seemed strictly designed for its intended purpose, with no chance of an unexpected space emerging behind a door. Most notably, this wasn’t a place for someone like Doha, casually dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. The pristine, angular conference room was far more suited to expensive suits like those worn by the secretary and lawyer.No matter how hard Doha tried, it was impossible to picture Tristan Locke in this building. Since arriving in London ten days ago, Doha hadn’t seen him, and the idea that he was actually in London felt almost like a fabricated story. It felt as though Tristan was still living his calm life back at his estate in distant Scotland.“Mr. Eden,” the secretary called. When Doha turned around, he saw that the secretary had pushed Richard Evans’ contract across the table toward him.“Could you please take a seat for a moment?”“Sure.”Doha returned to his seat, and the lawyer, now seated closer, spoke up.“First of all, this is an unfavorable contract for an artist. If you had signed it without consultation, you might have run into trouble.”“…Yeah, I figured as much.”“I’ve outlined the problematic sections. You’ll need to request amendments before signing.”As he imagined Richard’s suave, easygoing face, Doha felt a headache coming on. It had been just after news broke that Tristan Locke had returned to London that Richard had sent the contract to him. It was during that chaotic week when reporters had swarmed Locke’s residence and company, and tabloids and newspapers had been buzzing nonstop with Tristan’s name.“I’ll take over from here, Alex,” the secretary said. After the lawyer left, the secretary went to check the closed door before sitting down across from Doha.“……”Doha looked up. Was it the bright office lights during the daytime? There was something different about the secretary’s face here in London. The man Doha had once dined with beside a fireplace wasn’t present. The sharp lines connecting his cold features were rigid, and the gaze he directed at Doha was unfamiliar, as though looking down from above.After a moment of silence, the secretary spoke.“Mr. Eden Yeon.”“…Yes.”“This is London now, not the forest of Scotland.”It was an obvious statement. When Doha blinked, somewhat puzzled, the secretary continued in a dry tone.“If you plan to receive Neim treatment from the CEO here in London, it’s more important than ever that your presence remains hidden.”“Yes, I know….”“No.”He cut Doha off.“If you truly understood that, you wouldn’t be trying to pursue a career as a pianist.”“……”Doha was left speechless, staring at him in bewilderment.The secretary stood up, circling the table and passing by Doha to unlock the window latch. He opened the window fully before stepping aside.“Do you hear that? Outside?”“……”The crisp scent of rain in the city drifted in. Faintly, there was a mixed noise outside that sounded like people shouting.“It’s the tabloid reporters and ordinary citizens. Since the day the CEO returned, hundreds of people have been camped out in Berkeley Square, and the police have been regularly driving them away due to complaints.”“…Are they all trying to report on him?”“Reporting, sightseeing, welcoming, even some with ill intentions… their reasons vary. But ultimately, their common goal is the CEO.”The secretary closed the window, cutting off the distant shouts aimed at Tristan Locke.Sitting back down, he said, “That’s the uniqueness of Locke Holdings. More accurately, it’s the uniqueness of the position held by the aristocracy in modern Britain. They are born into privilege, but at the same time, they’re judged by the strictest moral standards. That’s why today’s aristocrats must engage in charity work as naturally as breathing, in order to make money.”“……”“Most British aristocrats nowadays amass wealth through real estate speculation. Some, like Locke Holdings, form holding companies by acquiring businesses for investment, but from that moment, it’s like walking a tightrope. The British public doesn’t like aristocratic businessmen. They find it vulgar and unworthy of nobility to seek profit.”“……”“And yet, simply by being part of the aristocracy, they are granted privileges that ordinary businessmen are not. Our company may be an international upper-tier corporation, but all its power is concentrated at the center, and it operates in a peculiar way, with management succession passed down to the children.”Doha thought the secretary was being rather harsh, given that he was part of the company himself, but he remained silent. The secretary briefly adjusted the perfectly tied knot of his necktie but stopped, leaving it intact. After a short sigh, he turned his gaze to Doha.“Mr. Eden, were you in London six years ago when the scandal broke about the Earl’s illegitimate child?”“…Yes.”“Then you probably remember the boycott campaign that followed. Even though the Marquis ousted the Earl from his position in just two days, Locke Holdings almost went bankrupt as all its subsidiaries were on the verge of collapse. There was even that incident where a single-mother support organization publicly returned Locke Holdings’ donations by cashing them out on the company’s front lawn.”A faint grimace crossed the secretary’s face as he recalled that event.“When a person’s private life has the power to determine the rise or fall of an entire company, that person is no longer just an individual. They are the embodiment of their family and company.”Doha could sense what the secretary was getting at. The conversation had come full circle and reached its main point. Without a word, Doha stayed quiet, and the secretary, glancing up briefly, added, “I’m not here to debate homosexuality. But what I’m saying is this: for someone like the only son of a British marquess, who has the duty to continue the family line, the heir to an aristocratic company can never be homosexual. And especially with Neim, which binds someone to a single partner for life… it means marriage to a woman and the production of heirs would be impossible.”“…….”“The CEO overcame his father’s failures and rebuilt both the family and the company. Now, he is not only the heir of one of England’s most prestigious noble families but also the embodiment of the Locke name itself. If everything he’s built is not to crumble, your existence must remain hidden.”Doha took a deep breath as he stared at Richard Evans’ contract on the table.“Are you telling me to stop performing as a pianist in public?”It was clear what the secretary wanted from Doha. Like the Earl of Charrington’s mistress once had to, he was expected to shut himself away in a secure home, waiting for Tristan Locke’s visits without stepping outside. After all, the help that Tristan provided without asking for anything in return should be enough for him to survive on.The secretary, observing Doha, shrugged his shoulders.“If it were up to me, that’s exactly what would happen…”He reached over and pulled another file from across the table, placing it in front of Doha.“This is…”Doha, confused, opened it to look inside. The contract inside bore the name of a company he didn’t recognize. The secretary, watching his expression, spoke.“We’re planning to establish a classical artist management firm as a subsidiary of Locke Holdings.”“A management firm?”“That way, if you and the CEO are seen together, it can be explained. It would also make it easier to plan your performance schedule around your treatment cycles. Naturally, we could offer you far better conditions and support than your current company.”Doha finished reading the contract. Having recently reviewed Richard’s, the differences were immediately apparent. The terms offered were almost unbelievably favorable for someone in his current position. As he neared the final page, the secretary added:“The CEO insisted that you shouldn’t be forced or persuaded into a decision.”“……”“But I’m confident you understand what I’ve told you today.”Doha closed the file before speaking.“May I have a few days to give you an answer?”“Of course, take as much time as you need. If you’d like to discuss any adjustments to the terms, feel free to speak with Alex, or contact me directly.”“Thank you.”As Doha gathered the files, including Richard’s contract, the secretary stood, indicating that their meeting had concluded. Doha followed suit without a word. As the secretary opened the door to the meeting room, the noise from the office outside filtered in.Though his emotions were still roiling, Doha understood what the secretary’s words had meant. From the start, he had no reason to consider Doha’s freedom or life. His duty was to protect the CEO he served and the company that employed him.The terms of the contract weren’t bad—on the contrary, they offered far better support and opportunities than his previous company. Yet, despite knowing that, Doha couldn’t bring himself to look directly at the document in his hand.The elevator doors slid open, revealing the lobby. The secretary asked politely:“Are you headed to the practice room now?”“Yes.”“I’ll have someone escort you.”“No, it’s fine.”As Doha shook his head to refuse, the sound of commotion echoed from outside. Through the glass doors of the lobby, he saw the shadow of a large black car pulling up. The secretary paused the conversation to observe as well.The car door opened, and a couple of people, dressed in formal attire, stepped out. Doha’s view was blocked by the broad back of what seemed to be a bodyguard. At that moment, more cars came to a stop in close succession, and someone started shouting indistinctly. The sound of car horns blared loudly.“They just don’t get tired, do they?”The secretary muttered irritably as he watched. Large camera lenses stuck out of the windows of the other cars, and someone, likely a journalist, leaned halfway out. Bodyguards stepped in, blocking the reporters who were rushing toward them. A crowd of people swarmed, adding to the chaos.As the situation settled, the rear door of the car swung open, and a man and a woman stepped out. Surrounded by the solid wall of bodyguards, the pair entered through the glass doors of Locke Holdings. The woman, who continued chatting as she glanced back, was strikingly tall and glamorous.As they entered the lobby, the bodyguards parted like the Red Sea, moving to the sides. At the center of the group, a man who seemed indifferent to the woman’s conversation caught Doha’s attention.“…Ah.”Doha glanced at him briefly, then turned back toward the entrance—only to freeze, his body locking in place. Before he could even let out a proper sound, the secretary stepped forward.“CEO.”“Lowell.”The man who responded in a low voice and turned his head was Tristan Locke, yet he was not Tristan Locke. Even though Doha’s eyes took him in, his mind violently refused to recognize him. It felt as though he was seeing a stranger, causing him to involuntarily take a step back, his heart racing.His hair was now neatly trimmed, and his body was clad in a perfectly tailored, elegant black suit. His face, still as handsome as ever, had taken on a sharper, more refined edge than when Doha had last seen him. The man who once slouched in a worn armchair wearing loose, casual clothes was nowhere to be seen. Before him stood Tristan Locke, the aristocrat and corporate magnate, cloaked in an air of inherent power and arrogance.Doha had once thought that Tristan would never suit a suit—but he was wrong. This man before him proved the very essence of what a suit was meant for. Doha would have believed it was designed just for him.From across the lobby, Tristan’s gaze rested on Doha, impassive and unreadable. The others, following him, also turned their attention to Doha and the secretary.“…Mr. Locke.”The name “Tristan” nearly slipped from Doha’s lips, but he swallowed it. Though his voice was faint, Tristan did not respond immediately. The secretary stepped forward, asking respectfully:“Shall we go inside?”“Is the conversation finished?”“Yes. Mr. Eden has said he will consider it.”Only then did Tristan Locke’s gaze return to Doha. His gray eyes slowly scanned Doha’s youthful face, his casual attire of a coat and jeans, the backpack on his shoulders, and the file in his hand. Their eyes met briefly, but Doha found himself unable to speak. The distance between them, across the lobby, felt far greater than the one between London and Scotland.The man, staring at Doha with his cool gray eyes, let out a short breath and turned to his companions, introducing him.“This is Eden Yeon, the pianist.”“Ah.”The woman responded with a warm exclamation of recognition.“Just as I thought. You haven’t changed at all since a few years ago.”“Ms. Yeon, this is Marilyn Kushner. She’s agreed to take on the role of CEO for the new Classic Management firm that Holdings is establishing.”The tone was soft and polite. There was no mention of the contract Doha was already holding, nor any burdensome introduction. The way he addressed her with formalities, as if she were a stranger, felt unfamiliar and odd to Doha, so she lowered her gaze. Her face flushed as if it had been burned.Marilyn Kushner swiftly approached and extended her hand to Doha.“Please, call me Mari. I’ve been a fan for a long time. We met a few years ago, but you probably don’t remember.”“…No, I’m sorry.”“It’s alright. I heard you’re resuming your performances, and I was thrilled.”She fluently recalled which of Doha’s albums she liked and which recitals she had attended. She even remembered things Doha had forgotten, to the point where it was hard to believe she was just a fan. While she went on excitedly, Tristan Locke quietly observed Doha from under his golden eyelashes. Finally, the secretary checked the time and spoke.“CEO, we’ve been delayed for quite a while.”“Right.”Without hesitation, Tristan Locke turned his gaze away from Doha. As he turned his back, the security guards who had been standing behind Marilyn and the group quickly followed him. Surrounded by a dense wall of people, Tristan Locke passed by Doha and entered the elevator the secretary held open for him.“Goodbye,” the secretary said as a parting greeting to Doha before the elevator doors silently closed. When Doha came to her senses, she found herself alone in the wide, echoing, cool lobby.***When they arrived in front of the pizza franchise, they heard hurried footsteps from across the street.“Eden!”Niklas was running towards them at full speed. Waving, he came closer and slapped Doha on the shoulder with an exclamation.“You made it back alive from London!”“Thanks for worrying. Let’s go inside….”“But are you sure you’re allowed to be out and about already? You’re not discharged too early, right?”Niklas’ voice was so loud that people passing by turned to look at Doha. Having collapsed once because of Neim, Doha felt like an invalid. They held the door open for Niklas to enter the pizza shop.“Shall we talk inside? I peeked earlier, and it didn’t look like there were many seats left.”Thankfully, after struggling their way inside, they found a small table available. As soon as Niklas sat down, he called the server and ordered two pizzas piled high with meat and seafood without even glancing at the menu, despite Doha’s lack of appetite.“You need to replenish your strength since you’ve been sick! Don’t worry, if you can’t finish, I can eat it all. You’re having beer too, right?”“Uh… yeah.”The table was cramped, and the surrounding ones made it noisy. Although it was past dinner time, the restaurant was almost full. The server quickly placed two empty mugs on the table, and Niklas downed half of one in a single gulp before setting it down.“Tristan Locke’s secretary called me twice that night. I have no idea how they got my number.”“…Lowell called you?”“They asked if I had spoken to you. When I said I had, they started asking what exactly you said, when you boarded the train, what station you departed from, things like that. When I said I didn’t think you mentioned the time, they pressed me to be exact. It was terrifying. In the end, I sent them a screenshot of the time we spoke. I’m not sure if it helped.”Doha took a bitter sip of their draft beer. While the secretary was calling Niklas, they must have been lying unconscious at Edinburgh Station. The memory of the cold, grimy floor’s chill creeping into their body resurfaced.Niklas, eating a pickle with a fork, continued.“I thought something terrible had happened. I tried calling you too, but you didn’t answer. I kept waiting for the secretary to call back, but they never did.”“You must have worried a lot over something that wasn’t your problem.”“What do you mean it wasn’t my problem? I’m your manager! I felt so guilty for not taking care of you properly.”That comment reminded Doha of the contract renewal. Reflecting on how Niklas had kept persistently checking in since the airport, Doha couldn’t turn down his invitation. Yet, it was hard to shake the feeling that Niklas had been sent by Richard to pressure them about the contract. Given Niklas’ straightforward nature, it seemed likely that he would eventually ask, “Eden, why haven’t you signed the contract yet?” while they ate.But as Niklas devoured the two large pizzas that spilled over the table, he suddenly looked up and cheerfully said,“Oh, by the way, even if you do renew your contract, I won’t be your manager anymore.”“Why not?”Doha paused, about to sprinkle hot sauce on the pizza. Niklas brushed his long curly hair back from his forehead and said,“I quit.”“…What?”“To be exact, I have one week left. It’s going to be the longest week of my life! Time just wouldn’t pass today.”Doha put down their fork. They remembered a conversation from late last year when Niklas had called his job at the company the highlight of the year.Niklas grimaced, seemingly thinking the same thing.“Still, I’ve saved up a bit of money, so I’m planning to travel again. I guess I’m just not cut out for an office job. I’m sick of London, and sitting in one place makes me restless.”“That makes sense.”“And Richard? He’s a real jerk. All he cares about is money. I got into this business because I love music, though I didn’t expect to end up in the classical department. You know what? Richard doesn’t even like music!”Niklas vented angrily. It wasn’t the beer making him drunk; his flushed face was the result of pent-up frustration spilling out all at once. As Doha nodded, listening, they wondered why it had taken them so long to realize Richard’s true nature when Niklas had figured it out in just a few months.After a while, Niklas suddenly asked,“So, Eden, are you going to renew the contract?”“…I’m still not sure.”Niklas, who had calmed down, took another sip of beer without insisting on persuading Doha not to renew, despite the bad blood between him and the company.Doha was about to speak, but stopped at the vibration of his phone in his coat pocket. His heart dropped suddenly, and he felt a twisting discomfort in his stomach.“Just a moment.”He quickly reached for his coat, excusing himself. According to the schedule Daniel set after his examination in London, Doha was supposed to begin seeing Tristan for treatment every few days, starting either today or tomorrow. Busy as he might be, it didn’t seem like something Tristan would forget, and Doha had been waiting for this call around today.Doha discreetly checked his phone to avoid Niklas’s view. The vibrating had stopped—it was a message, not a call.“…”The name on the screen wasn’t what he expected. It read “Scott Lowell.” Doha opened the message and glanced at the text.“Regarding treatment: please come to the address below at 13:10-13:40 tomorrow. Please ensure you arrive at least 10 minutes early to avoid keeping the CEO waiting.”“…”“Eden?”Niklas, who had been ordering another round of beer, asked. Doha snapped back to reality, quickly slipping the phone back into his pocket. His fingertips suddenly felt hot.“Already full? You barely ate.”“I had plenty.”The cheese on the pizza had already hardened. Doha cut off a corner of the crust with his fork but then set it down. Boisterous laughter echoed from the neighboring table. His stomach felt strangely hollow, but he had no desire to eat anymore.***Early the next morning, when the studio manager arrived, Doha was waiting outside the building. Looking drowsy, the manager unlocked the door for him.“You’re here early. Make sure to turn on the heater; it’ll take a while to warm up.”“Yes.”The rooms on both sides of the hall were still empty. Doha entered the grand piano studio, turned on the lights, and opened the piano lid while still wearing his padded jacket. Inside, even the faint breath he exhaled formed a thin mist in the late winter chill. The faint morning light seeped through the studio’s small window.Having waited outside longer than he thought, his fingers had stiffened. He placed his cold fingertips on the keys and started to play a slow scale, each note sounding reluctant to emerge.The previous night’s drinking session with Niklas left him with a headache and heavy eyelids. That morning, Niklas had sent him three emoji faces of someone throwing up, which Doha could relate to all too well. It had been ages since he’d had such an intense night out.A stiff finger hit the wrong note. Doha abruptly stopped the scale and rubbed his aching eyes with his palm.Maybe it would have been better to get some more sleep and head straight to the hotel by noon. The hotel Scott Lowell had sent him was near Tristan’s company, in the opposite direction of his usual studio. The round trip alone would take over an hour, meaning he’d have to head there early and return afterward. It seemed this would become the routine on treatment days.“…”On days when practice felt hopeless, there were always signs. Doha got up and turned his back on the piano.As he stared blankly at the soundproof walls, the lobby of Locke Holdings, where he had seen Tristan two days earlier, came to mind. No colorful, trendy sofas there, only a cool, pristine space. The vast, silent lobby wasn’t designed to make people feel comfortable. The marble and metal felt weighty, as if pressing down on him, exuding a subdued, imperious atmosphere. Refined wealth. The scent of ancient power permeated every corner of the building.Doha wondered why he’d ever thought the building was uncharacteristic of Tristan. The man he met in the lobby was Locke Holdings itself—beautiful, noble, looking down at him with a casual indifference.It was only natural. That was their place, after all; how had he forgotten, even for a moment? Trying to recall Tristan from the manor felt like trying to remember a stranger.Finishing the scale mechanically, he opened his music bag. There were plenty of pieces he’d been tinkering with, but it was time to choose one and polish it. He planned to contact his mentor once the company issue was settled.Pulling out a handful of sheet music, he placed it on the stand, feeling the soft texture of the paper brush against his fingertips.“…Oh.”Amid the freshly bought, crisp sheet music since his return to London, he found an old, brown sheet mixed in. It seemed he’d forgotten to return this one from Tristan’s library.He set down the other sheet music, carefully holding the fragile paper. It was the back section of Chopin’s Nocturne No. 12. No trace of the front section. He remembered retrieving it from the library and practicing it, but the rest was hazy.After contemplating with his hand on the keys, he slowly lowered his pinky to find the F note. Nocturne No. 15. The last time he played it was the day he moved the old piano from the village to the manor. Unlike that time, he could now play it on a perfectly tuned piano in its original F key, and the melody filled the cramped practice room. Doha closed his eyes halfway through and surrendered to the sensation at his fingertips.Now, Tristan Locke was in London. He could finally fulfill his promise to play this piece for him on a better piano. If only Tristan could spare some time to visit this studio, or if they could find somewhere with a piano together.Doha let the last note resonate softly as he opened his eyes. London had countless pianists besides him and a multitude of things that would demand Tristan Locke’s attention outside of his music.The days when he’d turn his head after finishing a piece and always see Tristan’s armchair, with the man smiling quietly at him. Looking back, those days might have been a dream or an illusion. Gazing around the cramped London studio without Tristan Locke, Doha suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of displacement.***The moment Doha entered the hotel room, he blinked, forgetting his earlier mood. Did they really need to reserve such a spacious suite for a mere half-hour visit? He knew Tristan Locke’s wealth well, but this still seemed beyond reason.He set his heavy backpack, full of sheet music, down next to the plush sofa and walked toward the glass balcony door. Outside the window, Hyde Park stretched beneath a cloudy gray sky. The Locke Holdings building was out of sight, but only a few turns away, making it easy for Tristan to arrive here and return to work afterward.Doha drew the curtains and went to wash up. Ignoring the luxurious bathtub, he quickly showered in the booth and put on one of the white robes hanging behind the door. When he returned to the living room, the clock on the wall showed one o’clock.The hotel was strangely quiet at midday. Doha wandered around the living room, examining the framed artwork on the walls and the white floral arrangement and fruit basket on the table. The room was filled with priceless antique furniture, but none of it registered in his mind. The anxiety that had twisted his stomach had now settled into a hard, stone-like mass in his lower abdomen.At 1:10, no one had knocked on the door. Doha sat on the sofa facing the door, taking his phone from his bag.“…Oh.”The message Doha had half-expected from the secretary didn’t arrive, but he did receive one from Daniel.“I’m sorry for the delay in contacting you, Eden. How are you feeling?”Doha had already been wondering about the lack of contact from Daniel to schedule his next appointment. He clenched and unclenched his hands before replying.“I’m fine. I’m keeping up with my rehab as usual.”The phone vibrated almost immediately after he sent the message. Doha looked up at the clock before answering the call.“Yes, Dr. Hunt.”“Eden, it’s been too long. I apologize.”Daniel’s voice sounded tired over the line, as if worn down. Doha kept his eyes on the hotel door as he replied.“It’s alright. You mentioned before that you’ve been busy with your research, right?”Daniel had once given him a quick overview. From what Doha recalled, Daniel had even attended a conference at the start of the year, signaling a scholarly interest in Neim’s field beyond just Doha’s treatment.“My research?”Daniel hesitated for a beat.“Ah, yes. That’s right.”“Sorry?”“I haven’t even touched it. After all that bragging I did to you… At this point, I’m not sure if I’ll make any progress on it soon. Actually, I’m more worried about your next appointment.”“If things are really that hectic for you, I can wait until you have more time.”Their last appointment, following Doha’s initial Neim seizure, had required several tests, but usually, they only made small adjustments to his rehab routine. Daniel coughed softly on the other end.“No, that’s not an option. I’ve been practically living away from home lately, trying to manage all this. Would it be okay if we met somewhere other than my usual clinic this time?”“Of course. Where?”“Well… Ideally, a nearby clinic, but I doubt Lowell will allow it. Maybe I’ll…”Just then, the door handle of the hotel room turned. Doha, forgetting Daniel’s voice over the line, half-rose to his feet, feeling his heart pound fiercely in his chest.“…find a place….”Tristan Locke appeared as the door slowly opened. A charcoal gray suit, white shirt, dark-hued tie, and hair neatly slicked back – his expression was cool and composed. The man he’d last seen in the Locke Holdings lobby flashed across Doha’s mind.Still holding the phone to his ear, Doha stood there in a daze, unable to greet him. Noticing him by the door, Tristan gave a short gesture for him to finish his call.“…we’ll delay some of the tests, if need be.”“…Yes.”“Alright then. I’ll be in touch. Take care, Eden.”“Yes. You too, Dr. Hunt.”As the call ended, Doha let his hand holding the phone fall to his side like a robot that had forgotten how to move.Taking off his jacket and hanging it up, Tristan looked over at Doha and calmly spoke.“Sorry for being late. Have you been waiting long?”“…No.”His fingertips were numb and prickling with cold, and he felt heat rising in his cheeks. Here, there were no journalists or bodyguards shadowing him; they were alone in the quiet room, just as they had been naturally in Scotland.Tristan’s eyes briefly took in the drawn curtains, and he gave a faint smile.“Even with the curtains closed, there’s still light here.”Doha opened his mouth but simply took a small breath and closed it again. Standing on the other side of the sofa, Tristan’s eyes were an unusually deep gray. The subtle, dry scent of his cologne hung faintly in the air.As Tristan gazed at Doha, his expression gradually softened. Leaning over the sofa back, he reached out a hand.His cool fingers cupped Doha’s cheek, gently pulling him closer for a kiss.“Mmph….”It was a kiss without hesitation. The warmth of his lips seeped into Doha, spreading a tremor through his body. Kneeling awkwardly onto the sofa, Doha clung to his coat hem, pressing his back against the couch.Tristan’s fingers held his neck firmly, and his hot tongue pressed insistently into his mouth. The kiss was direct and unrestrained, as if reclaiming his territory. He probed and rubbed every part of Doha’s mouth, leaving no inch untouched. Doha briefly opened his eyes, only to find himself staring directly into those deep gray eyes and promptly closed them again.When the kiss finally ended, leaving Doha’s lips tingling, Tristan released him.“I’ll shower first. Wait in the bedroom?”“…Yes.”Struggling to find his voice, Doha answered as he watched Tristan loosen his tie and unfasten the cufflinks at his sleeves before turning to enter the bathroom. Only when Tristan’s orderly figure had disappeared behind the door did Doha muster the strength to get up and head to the bedroom.There was, of all things, a clock on the wall across from the bed. Doha absently stared at the time—1:17—until he flinched at the soft sound of the bathroom door opening.Slow, measured footsteps approached. Doha, staring at the bedspread in front of him, lifted his head just as Tristan stepped into the room, damp hair curling darkly over his forehead, his robe loosely fastened.“…”Doha looked up at him from the edge of the bed. Up close, Tristan looked noticeably thinner than he had back at the estate. Shadows pooled beneath his high cheekbones, and with his lips pressed firmly together, his face seemed unfamiliar and cold.As he sat at the edge of the bed, he closed his tired, reddened eyes for a brief moment. The soft noon shadow traced his straight nose, casting a gentle outline.Before he could think, Doha instinctively reached out a hand. His fingertips brushed over the robe covering Tristan’s shoulder.“…Ah…”Before he could pull away, his wrist was seized. With narrowed eyes, Tristan pulled Doha in close.“Eden.”His softly spoken voice sounded husky, almost raw with fatigue. Calling Doha’s name once more, he nudged his legs apart and settled between them. Without even taking off their robes, he urgently pulled the fabric aside, exposing his thighs and waist.“Tristan, wait—”The half-unfastened tie on Tristan’s robe brushed softly over Doha’s thigh, while his own tightly tied robe felt awkward and constricting. He wanted to feel their skin against each other’s, so he spoke up, prompting Tristan to pause briefly before responding, his tone calming.