The day after the gala, Yuuto returned to his new position in the penthouse division.
He passed Aiden in the hallway once — just for a second.
Their eyes met.
No words.
Only a glance.
Yuuto felt a knot in his chest.
He hated this feeling — like he was standing between two doors and both were half-open.
---
Later that evening, the hotel owner asked him softly,
> "Would you have dinner with me tonight?"
Yuuto blinked. "Dinner?"
"A private dinner. Just a simple meal in my residence upstairs. You've worked hard — and I enjoy good company."
Yuuto hesitated.
But the owner's smile was gentle, not forceful.
"…Okay."
---
The residence suite was warm. Elegant. Quiet.
Yuuto had never been in that part of the hotel before.
The table was set with soft candles and wine, but the meal was simple — not overwhelming.
The hotel owner poured the drinks himself.
"I don't like to show off," he said. "That's Aiden's style."
Yuuto looked up at the name. The tension rose.
"You two have a long history?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
The hotel owner's smile didn't change.
"Yes. But not always the kind that ends well."
Yuuto didn't push.
But the words stuck in his mind.
---
After dinner, Yuuto helped clean up — just by habit. He followed the hotel owner into the office space attached to the residence.
The owner was on a call, standing by the window.
Yuuto placed the empty glasses on a side table and noticed a small cabinet on the lower shelf. One of the doors had been left open slightly — probably during the call.
Something inside caught his eye.
A leather-bound notebook, worn around the edges. Tied with a faded ribbon.
Yuuto reached for it—then paused.
He shouldn't.
But something called to him.
He pulled it out, slowly opened it, and saw…
handwritten pages.
Soft, slanted script.
> "Some loves don't start with meeting.
They start with missing."
Yuuto's heart skipped.
The words felt… familiar. Uncomfortably close to what he'd written in his own secret journal once.
He turned another page.
> "He smiled at me and I felt like I was remembering, not discovering."
"If I had met him in another life, would I have loved him the same?"
Yuuto stared at the page.
The ink was old.
The entries were dated years back.
But these weren't business notes. These were feelings. Longing. Questions.
And the way they were written—
> It felt like he had written them.
But… he didn't remember doing so.
Before he could read further, the hotel owner returned.
Yuuto quickly closed the book and slid it back into the shelf.
"Everything alright?" the owner asked casually.
Yuuto smiled too quickly. "Yes. Just cleaning up."
The owner's eyes lingered on him for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Thank you, Yuuto. You can go now."
Yuuto bowed slightly and left the room.
But his heart wasn't calm anymore.
It was echoing.
With words that didn't belong to him…
but still sounded like they came from inside.