Noah lowered the phone, pressing his fingers to his forehead.
A shallow breath warmed his skin—then vanished.
"…Strange," he murmured.
"Normally, he would've come right away."
A single sentence. Barely worth noticing.
But Noah knew.
Fractures always began with things like this—a hesitation, an unfinished tone.
A silence that meant more than it should.
The elevator glided to a stop on the 19th floor.
He stepped out quietly, stopping in front of 1901.Pressed the bell.
Nothing.
Not a shuffle. Not a shadow.
A silence too perfect to be empty—as if someone inside had chosen to hold their breath.
He hesitated for a moment, then called Howard.
"Is Celeste around today?"
"Yes, she is, but… she reached out around dawn. Said she'd like to spend the day alone. If it's urgent, I can—"
"No need. I'll be seeing her with Daniel anyway. Thank you."
He ended the call.
A faint smile brushed his lips. Barely there.
From the inside of his coat, he slipped out a slim, matte-black card.
Before joining Celeste's team, he'd quietly made a copy of the master key to unit 1902—like a man packing an umbrella on a clear, cloudless day.
Just in case. He hadn't expected to use it.
But now—the storm had come.
"…Didn't think I'd use it like this," he whispered to himself.
He turned, and headed toward Jinwoo's suite.
The lights inside were off.
The air held the stillness of an unused room—dust, silence, absence.
He passed the hidden elevator behind the pillar and pressed the button.
As he waited, his mind wandered through possible explanations.
What if someone saw him?
Wrong floor? No, too careless.
Looking for Daniel? Too flimsy.
His thoughts turned, but his body remained calm.
Almost too calm.
Ding.
The door opened to the 20th floor.
Dim light. Warm air, delicately scented.
Everything still. Tucked in.
He stepped out, soundless.
Moved through the corridor like a shadow—past the living room, past the study.
Stopped in front of her door.
And from behind it—
he heard it.
A breath.
Barely contained.
A whisper of sound—wet, strained.
Then another.
Two people.
Breath crossing breath.
Rhythm chasing rhythm.
The quiet, unmistakable rupture of bodies meeting.
Noah froze.
The sound hit him low, somewhere in the chest.
His fingers tightened at his side. His throat dried.
He covered his mouth, not even thinking.
Celeste. With Daniel. Now. Here.
And he wasn't surprised.
That—that was the part that made him feel hollow.
He lowered his head.
Closed his eyes. Then turned.
No hesitation. No sound.
Through the hall, into the elevator. Down—first to the 19th,then to the 10th.
Not a single footprint left behind.
He returned to his's office, let his body sink into the familiar leather of the sofa.
Tilted his head back.
Stared up at the ceiling as if there might be an answer there.
Closed his eyes.
Breathed out slow.
"…So this is how she wants to play it," he whispered.
A smile touched his lips—thin, cold. Familiar.
But what surfaced behind his eyes wasn't humor.
It was quieter.
Sharper.
Heavier.
And underneath it all—something even slower.
Not jealousy. Not anger.
Desire.