MERRY 49

Ethan’s room is on the simpler side. He has few belongings, and the overall color palette is low-saturation. He has no hobbies for collecting things, nor does he have any interest in filling up his empty walls. He enjoys reading, but he rarely keeps the books he finishes.

According to Jim—a former colleague of Serena’s who disguised himself as an ordinary friend—it wasn’t advisable to leave traces of one’s life behind. He used to say that the moment you have something to protect, you’re prone to falling into danger.

It wasn’t exactly that Ethan followed his advice. He just lacked possessiveness; he had a certain detachment in his way of living, and that was simply how he grew up.

To Ethan, whose own room would be called dull by any guest, Somerset’s space felt like a different world. Even though he had acted unimpressed by the rest of the lavish, wealth-shrouded mansion, he looked around the room with genuine attention.

The room, as wide as a tennis court, was bright and evenly lit by sunlight streaming through several windows. Whether it was the blood of a collector running through his veins, various ornaments were placed everywhere, and furniture that crossed between antique and modern blended together in a strange harmony. A sense of being lived-in and pristine tidiness coexisted.

As his gaze was stolen by a chandelier boasting more grandeur than the large frames on the walls, Somerset spoke in a grumbling tone.

“I hate that thing. I came home one day and there it was.”

He said it was an accident caused by his mother, the homeowner. He also mentioned a scuffle with her over whether or not to install a canopy; he pointed to the bed, claiming he’d won the victory to keep it as it looks now.

Ethan didn’t have much of an eye for such things, but he offered a brief critique.

“The design looks like a canopy would suit it.”

“What? Is that your taste? Should I put it back up?”

“It’s fine without it, too. Just enjoy the thrill of victory.”

“Yahoo!”

Somerset gave a little hop and ran toward an oil painting. It was something Ethan had just pretended not to see.

“This dashing man here is Somerset Quinn.”

The rough-textured oil painting depicted the back of a man standing before a horizon tinged by the setting sun. His bronze skin contrasted with his ivory pants, making the man’s back stand out.

Ethan was impressed. The high quality of the work was great, but Somerset’s self-love was even more incredible.

“So you see yourself the moment you wake up.”

“The time has come to serve coffee to the person who caught my intention.”

Just then, Emma appeared carrying a tray with elegant teacups lined up. Somerset took the tray and placed it on a tea table by the window.

“It seems the misunderstanding has finally been cleared. Congratulations.”

Emma said, recognizing Ethan.

“Thanks to you. Sincere Emma’s testimony was the clincher.”

“I am quite excellent in many ways. I didn’t forget your request to pour the coffee into ordinary mugs instead of fancy teacups.”

“Exactly! Emma is the best. I’m second only to Emma for considering my guest’s preferences.”

The banter between the two flowed like water. Ethan, who had neither the confidence nor the inclination to imitate the cheeky Somerset, thanked Emma and then took in the aroma of the coffee. He liked that it was appropriately heavy.

As he brought the mug under his nose, Somerset stopped him.

“It’s hot. Drink slowly.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“No. You’re going to leave the moment you finish that.”

Having quickly seen Emma out and returned, he sat across from Ethan, his leg twitching. A sense of displeasure and impatience could be felt simultaneously. Ethan savored the aroma of the coffee once more and raised an eyebrow.

“Did I ever say that?”

“Are you going to stay longer? Want to stay for good? You can even sleep over.”

“Fast. You’re moving through the stages way too fast.”

“I’m not rushing. I have to give you a chance to make up for the pub date.”

“As I said before, the comment about it being a date was a mistake. A man who clings to a mistake loses his charm.”

Despite the critique, Somerset didn’t budge. His resilience and elasticity were enormous.

“Isn’t that a relief? My charm is infinite, so no matter how much I lose, I’ll never hit rock bottom.”

He was clearly born with a natural talent for conquering others. The defense mechanisms Ethan had acquired over time lost their strength before him. Lips that had finally escaped their boundary of tension twitched.

“It’s hard to trust a man with such a silver tongue.”

He spoke bluntly to hide his smile, but Somerset took no damage. Placing his hand on the table, he moved closer, his two fingers walking like legs. Ethan narrowly avoided the presence approaching his mug.

He wanted to gulp down the coffee to make a point, but it was too hot. When he provoked him by lifting the cup and touching his lips to the rim before pulling away, Somerset leaned forward. Infinite charm bounced off and radiated from his broad shoulders and chest.

“Spend time with me, and that misunderstanding will be cleared. Don’t go until it’s all resolved. Play with me.”

He coaxed in a low, hushed voice, like he was uttering sweet nothings. The atmosphere was convincing, but in reality, he was like a puppy dropping a frisbee at his master’s feet and panting. He was demanding that the frisbee be thrown so he could dash off and bring it back. What kind of frisbee do you want? Rising curiosity prompted Ethan to ask.

“What are we going to do to play?”

The answer was fast.

“Anything.”

It was a confident attitude that left him speechless. Ethan gave a short laugh, put down his mug, and hid his hands under the table. To avoid being caught flinching as he constantly sought an opportunity to touch Somerset.

He imagined using his fingers as a comb through those wavy curls. He wanted to trace the smooth curves around his eyes and tickle the bobbing Adam’s apple in a circular motion. It was an impulse that was purely instinctive yet induced many thoughts.

Do you feel the same? He swallowed the question that had risen to the back of his throat in a steep upward curve. Since it originated near the heart rather than the brain, Ethan dismissed it as an error and exercised high restraint.

“I’ll just have the coffee and leave today.”

Coincidentally, there was a gap, and he ended up showing that gap voluntarily. Pushed by Somerset’s pouting lips, he slipped up.

“I don’t know how it will be next time.”

Satisfied by the following words, Somerset raised his mug and gave Ethan’s a light toast.

“I know. You’re going to play with me plenty.”

Ethan felt a sense of kinship with the coffee sloshing from the impact. Coffee so precarious it was about to spill. He tried his best to ignore the fact that the scent was already not just overflowing, but wafting everywhere.

If he had accepted Somerset’s invitation every time, he probably would have ended up living in that house. Ethan began to refuse again after two visits, but unable to withstand Somerset’s disappointed reactions, it led to a trend of him calling the man outside. In other words, he did “play” with him.

“Wait! I’ll be out in one second!”

He would either climb out the window or come out through the front door as if he were going to break it down. Today was the latter. His hands were busy fastening the buttons of the shirt he’d hurriedly thrown on. When they had faced each other through the window a moment ago, he’d been wearing a somewhat scruffy t-shirt, but he seemed to have changed in the meantime.

Buttoning his shirt loosely with only three buttons, he took the lead actively.

“There’s a place I want to go with you. What do you think? How about leaving it to me today?”

“If you say so.”

“It’s a hot day, should we take the car?”

“Let’s walk if it’s not far.”

“About twenty minutes on foot.”

That much was fine. Somerset, who readily followed Ethan’s choice, gestured for him to wait and then leaned his upper body back into the first-floor window.

“Emily.”

The employee called Emily brought two pairs of sunglasses at his request. Somerset wore a pair of plain, black-rimmed sunglasses himself and handed the other pair to Ethan. Ethan, who had looked up to check the blazing sun, took the sunglasses but couldn’t quite bring himself to put them on.

“I don’t think I can.”

The weak words came out automatically. That was because the design was so unsettling—it looked like it was made for the purpose of controlling a psychic who shoots lasers from their eyes. When he returned the sunglasses, Somerset took off the ones sitting on his own nose and handed them to Ethan.

“Emily likes to play pranks.”

“I can just go home and get mine.”

“You don’t like those either? They’d look good on you. How about me?”

The over-the-top sunglasses became Somerset’s share. He explained that he’d gotten them because someone gave them as a joke gift. The prank was a failure. Because Somerset didn’t look ridiculous wearing them. Instead, he looked stylish, like someone with a great interest in fashion.

“They suit you. Strangely enough.”