The soft rustle of paper filled the flower shop's backroom. Hena sat at the small wooden desk, a sketchpad resting in her lap. Her fingers moved gently over the page, bringing to life the petals of a lily—her late mother's favorite flower. The delicate bracelet lay beside her drawing—tiny and gold, engraved with one name: Hara. It didn't belong to her. She was certain of that.
Claire, Hena's ever-enthusiastic best friend, burst through the door. "Still obsessing over that bracelet?"
"It was hidden in Halmeoni's old chest," Hena replied, not looking up. "Why would she keep something with a different name?"
Claire scoffed. "Maybe she forgot it was there. Or maybe... it's a clue!"
Hena gave her a half-smile.
Claire threw a flyer on the desk. "Never mind that. Look! There's an art contest in Seoul. Grand prize: a year-long scholarship at the prestigious Moon Academy of Arts!"
Hena blinked. "Seoul?"
Claire leaned in. "You've always dreamed of studying there. You need this. Maybe while you're there... you'll find out more about the bracelet."
---
The train to Seoul whistled through the countryside as Hena sat beside the window, clutching her backpack and the mysterious bracelet. Her heart pounded. She hadn't told Halmeoni she was going. Not fully. Just that she had "an opportunity." It was vague enough not to worry her.
As the skyline of Seoul approached, Hena felt both excitement and dread. She was chasing a ghost—an old name etched in gold. Who was Hara?
---
Elsewhere in a sleek, modern office, SEO Hara scowled at her reflection in the glass.
"Damian Lee," Madam Seo said crisply from behind her, "is a once-in-a-lifetime match. You will smile, you will nod, and you will accept this engagement like the opportunity it is."
"I don't even know him," Hara snapped.
"You don't need to. Marrying the heir to Lee Holdings will secure your future—and mine. You're a Seo. Act like one."
Hara hated how her mother turned love into leverage. She'd been trained for this her whole life—etiquette, elegance, and elitism. But nothing prepared her for the cold detachment of her future fiancé.
---
Damian Lee's eyes were unreadable as he sat at the high-end restaurant, his tailored suit pristine, his posture perfect. He was the kind of man who made others nervous without saying a word.
Hara arrived fashionably late, in a dress chosen by her mother. "Mr. Lee," she said, with a perfectly measured smile.
Damian stood. "Miss Seo."
She took her seat and quickly realized that charm wouldn't work on him.
"This marriage—" she began.
"Is a transaction," he interrupted. "Let's not pretend otherwise."
Her smile faltered. "So you're not going to try to get to know me?"
He looked her over coolly. "I already know everything I need to."
"Do you now?" Hara leaned forward. "Then tell me—what kind of girl do you think I am?"
Damian stirred his coffee. "The kind who doesn't like losing."
She laughed, tight and sharp. "At least we have one thing in common."
---
Later that afternoon, Hena stepped into a quiet street in Seoul after submitting her entry. The Moon Academy building had taken her breath away. She wandered aimlessly, her eyes soaking in the city that buzzed with dreams. As she passed a large glass window of a luxury boutique, she stopped. Her reflection wasn't alone.
A girl—her exact reflection—was staring at her.
Hena gasped and turned, only to see the girl—elegant, confident—also freeze. The two locked eyes across the crowd. A beat of silence passed. Neither spoke. Neither moved.
Then, just as suddenly, the crowd surged forward between them. By the time Hena pushed through the moving wall of people, the girl was gone.
Her heart thundered. That face... that couldn't be a coincidence.
The bracelet in her pocket felt heavier than ever.