The next few days unfolded in a strange rhythm.
Mornings were for Charming Tae.
Sunlight in the kitchen, the scent of coffee drifting through the halls, his low humming as he cooked. You'd join him, and he'd greet you with that perfect smile — warm enough to thaw the frost from your chest, bright enough to make you forget the unease from the nights before.
Afternoons were a mix of quiet exploration and unexpected moments together. Sometimes, you'd find him in the garden, kneeling in the dirt with his hands stained green as he trimmed roses. Other times, you'd discover him in the music room, fingers gliding over the piano keys, filling the mansion with hauntingly beautiful melodies.
Every moment with him felt like it was being painted in gold.
Today was no different.
You found him outside in the garden, the mist curling low over the grass. He was dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The early morning light clung to him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his cheekbones.
"You're awake early," he said, glancing up at you with a smile that made something flutter in your stomach.
You shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Nightmares?"
"Sort of."
He studied you for a moment, then stood, brushing dirt from his hands. "Come with me."
You followed him to the edge of the garden, where a small wrought-iron gate opened into a path lined with wildflowers. The air was damp, smelling faintly of lavender and rain.
"You like flowers?" he asked.
"Yes… but these are beautiful," you said, reaching out to touch a pale violet bloom.
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're rare. They only grow here. I planted them years ago for someone I cared about."
You glanced at him. "What happened to her?"
For a moment, the warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a shadow. His jaw tightened. "She left."
The way he said it made your skin prickle.
But then the smile returned, soft and inviting. "But now I have you."
Later, back inside, he invited you to the music room.
"Play something," he said, gesturing toward the piano.
"I can't," you admitted, laughing.
"Then listen."
He sat, fingers brushing the keys, and began to play. The melody was slow, deliberate, and heartbreakingly beautiful. You closed your eyes, letting the notes wrap around you like silk.
When you opened them again, he was watching you — not the keys, not his hands — you. His gaze was so intense it made your breath hitch.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.
His lips curved into a faint smile. "Because you look like you belong here. Like you've always belonged here."
You swallowed. "That's… sweet, I guess."
His fingers paused on the keys. "It's not sweet. It's the truth."
That night, you were reading in bed when you heard a faint knock.
"Come in," you called, expecting Charming Tae with tea or some teasing remark.
But the man who stepped in wasn't him. Not exactly.
His eyes were darker, colder. His posture was sharper, his movements slower, deliberate. Cold Tae.
"You left the library door open," he said flatly.
"I didn't—"
"You did." He walked toward the bed, stopping at the edge. "Don't wander where you're not supposed to."
You forced a laugh. "Is this about the locked door in the hallway? You could just tell me what's in there instead of being so cryptic."
His smile was razor-thin. "Some things are prettier when you don't see what's behind them."
Before you could respond, he reached down and brushed his fingers along your cheek — the gesture should have been tender, but the weight of his gaze made it feel like a warning.
"Goodnight, Y/N."
And then he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading into the long, empty hall.
You lay awake for hours, the memory of his touch lingering on your skin, your mind trapped between the warmth of Charming Tae and the chill of Cold Tae.
It was getting harder to tell which one was real.