"Then don't", his voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"And let's see how fast your father gets a funeral instead of a visit."
The silence that followed was razor-thin.
Selen didn't move.
The pen sat between them like a noose, and Taehyung's last words curled in her ears like a death sentence.
Her vision blurred—not from tears, but rage. From the suffocating pressure pressing down on her chest, crushing every piece of her that had once dared to dream.
He wasn't bluffing. She could see it in his eyes.
Not just the threat—but the promise.
Her father's life was hanging by a thread, and Taehyung held the blade.
"You're a monster," she whispered again, slower this time, as if naming him would take away his power.
But it didn't.
He didn't even blink.
Just watched her—cold, unwavering, as if daring her to hate him more.
"Maybe," he murmured. "But I'm the monster standing between your family and a bloodbath. Choose wisely."
Her knees buckled slightly. Her back pressed against the wall for support. Jimin stood frozen by the table, jaw clenched, his eyes flicking between them—but he didn't interfere. Not now.
He knew this wasn't his war.
Taehyung walked to her. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just… calm. Like he'd already won.
He stopped inches from her, and when he spoke, his voice was lower. Calmer. But no less cruel.
"You don't have to love me, Selen," he said. "You don't even have to like me."
He leaned in, lips close to her ear.
"But you will belong to me. Fully. Publicly. Legally."
She flinched, her eyes slamming shut.
"And when this ends?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What happens then?"
His hand brushed her jaw—gentle, but she felt the control in it.
"You'll wish you never asked," he said simply.
And just like that, he stepped back.
Jimin cleared his throat. "Taehyung—"
"Leave," he ordered.
Jimin hesitated. His eyes met Selen's. There was something in his gaze—sympathy, maybe. But he nodded once and walked out without a word.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Now it was just them. Just the air, thick and dangerous.
Selen stared at the table. At the paper.
At the line that had her name printed beneath it—so small, so silent, so heavy.
Her fingers twitched.
Taehyung didn't speak again. He didn't need to. Because in that moment, she realized the truth:
There was no choice.
Only a sentence.
Her breath trembled as she took one step.
Then another.
She stopped at the edge of the table, heart hammering, hand hovering.
"I hope you burn for this," she whispered.
He didn't reply.
She picked up the pen.
And signed.
One stroke, then another.
Each letter a nail in the coffin of the life she once knew.
When she dropped the pen, it clattered against the wood like a scream.
Taehyung stepped forward, lifted the paper, scanned it.
Then looked at her.
But there was no triumph in his eyes.
Only cold certainty. Like he'd known from the beginning—
That in the end, they always choose survival.
"Good girl," he said softly, and that single phrase made her skin crawl.
She took a shaky step back.
"Don't call me that."
His smirk returned.
"You'll get used to it."
She turned away, chest heaving. Her whole body felt like it was burning from the inside out. Shame, fury, heartbreak—they were all tangled now. There was no line between them anymore.
___
Just Outside the Corridor
The door creaked open.
Selen stepped out slowly, like her bones were heavier now—like every breath took effort.
Her lipstick was smudged. Her heels uneven. The fire in her eyes?
Burnt down to embers.
She looked like war wearing a silk dress. Nyra spun the moment she saw her.
"Selen!"
Her voice cracked through the corridor like thunder.
Selen didn't respond. She didn't even look up. Just walked—one step, then another—as if she were trying to outrun her own heartbeat.
"What the hell happened in there?" Nyra snapped, storming up to her. "Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? Talk to me—"
Selen stopped walking.
But she didn't turn.
She just whispered—
"Please… not right now."
Her voice was raw. Frayed at the edges. Barely holding together.
"Selen—what's going on? You kiss him in front of the world and now you're acting like you just crawled out of a battlefield. What did he say? What did he do to you?!"
"Nyra…" Selen turned slowly.
And that's when Nyra saw it.
The tears clinging to her lashes. The way her hands trembled, curled into fists to stop herself from falling apart. The quiet scream behind her eyes.
"I'm asking you—"
"And I'm begging you," Selen cut in, voice cracking. "Please… just leave it. Just for now."
Nyra froze.
"But—"
"If you push me right now… I'll break."
That stopped her.
Nyra stared.
The girl who once fought off masked men in a dark alley… was standing in front of her now, voice like splinters and silence.
"You told me I was brave," Selen whispered, trying to laugh—but it broke somewhere halfway out. "Then let me be brave enough to survive tonight."
A beat of silence.
Eunwoo—still standing in the shadows—watched with unreadable eyes. He didn't move. Didn't speak.
Nyra's jaw clenched. She wanted to shout. Slam the truth out of her. But…
Instead, she nodded.
Slow. Reluctant.
"Fine," she whispered. "But I'm not going far."
"I know," Selen said quietly.
And then she walked away.
Step by step.
Tears sliding down her cheek like secrets she didn't have the strength to keep anymore.
____
Inside the Room – Minutes After Selen Signed
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence settled like dust in the room.
Taehyung stood still, staring at the now-signed marriage certificate on the table. The ink was barely dry. Her name—delicate, defiant—burned against the page like a scar.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't even breathe.
Until the door opened again.
Eunwoo stepped in, his expression unreadable—jaw tense, hands shoved deep into his pockets, but eyes sharp with something halfway between judgment and worry.
"You really had to do this?"
Taehyung didn't turn.
He simply stared down at the paper, his voice low. Hollow.
"I didn't have another option. You know that."
Eunwoo stepped closer, folding his arms. "She's going to hate you for it."
Taehyung's lips twitched—almost a smirk, but not quite. It was too bitter to be pride.
"I know."
Silence again. Heavy.
Eunwoo's voice softened, but the weight behind it didn't.
"She looked at you like you were the only monster in the room."
Finally, Taehyung turned.
His eyes—usually cold and steel-wrapped—looked older. Worn.
"She called me a monster before she signed, Eunwoo." He exhaled harshly. "And I didn't correct her."
Eunwoo studied him, something flickering behind his eyes.
"You think this is protection?" he asked, quieter now. "Dragging her into this world with a chain around her neck?"
Taehyung's hands clenched.
"I'm the only thing standing between her and the public," he snapped, voice rising just a fraction. "If I hadn't claimed her, they would've torn her apart."
His tone dropped, darker. Quieter.
"The media. The board. The Assembly. Investors. Every goddamn vulture who saw that video of her declaring herself my wife."
He looked up, jaw ticking.
"You saw the numbers. My stock is already on a knife's edge. One false move and the empire falls. And she—" he stopped himself, voice cracking with restraint, "—she would've been the first casualty."
Eunwoo's brows knit together. "There had to be another way."
Taehyung laughed, but it was dry. Joyless.
"There's never another way when you're king," he murmured. "Only sacrifices."
He turned toward the window now, watching the city glow beneath the stormy dusk.
"She'll hate me," he whispered. "But at least she'll be alive to hate me."
Eunwoo didn't answer.
Because there was nothing left to say.
____
Later That Night – Downtown Club, 12:03 AM
The bass throbbed like a heartbeat.
Inside the neon-lit haze of the club, laughter spilled like smoke.
Sweat. Strobe lights. Clinking glasses.
The world spun too fast, too loud—too cruel.
And in the middle of it all…
Selen sat alone at the bar.
One hand wrapped around a half-empty glass of something bitter and burning.
She never drank. Not until tonight.
Not until her name had been signed away like it was worth less than silence.
Her name.
Her freedom.
Her future.
Gone.
She tilted her head back and downed another shot. The liquid sliced down her throat like fire and regret. Her eyes didn't flinch. But her soul did.
The bartender watched her—quiet, cautious. She looked too put together to be this broken.
But the signs were there.
Smudged lipstick. Hair falling loose from an updo that once screamed elegance. Eyes that didn't blink fast enough.
Eyes that were drowning.
And the man three stools away noticed.
He wasn't handsome.
Just bold.
And drunk enough to think her loneliness was an invitation.
He stood and smirked, walked toward her like a wolf in a crowd of sheep.
"Hey, pretty thing," he slurred, leaning in too close.
"That seat taken?"
Selen blinked slowly.Too dazed. Too hollow. Her hand didn't move.
But before the man could reach for her—
"Touch her…"
A voice sliced through the air.
Low, calm and lethal.
"…and I'll make sure your family sends flowers to your funeral next."
The music didn't stop.
But the air did.
A silence spread through the nearby crowd—
like instinct.
Like fear.
The man froze mid-step.
Because standing just inside the shadows—lit only by blue strobes and whiskey-gold light—
was someone no one expected to see here.
He didn't look angry. He looked like vengeance wearing cologne.
His eyes were not gentle. They were knives.nAnd when the man hesitated, He took one step forward.
That was all it took.
The guy backed off instantly. Hands raised. Vanished into the crowd.
No one questioned it.
Because no one dared.
Selen blinked again, alcohol still buzzing in her head—until her gaze cleared.
And her breath caught. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Woo–Seok…" she whispered.
He didn't wait. He moved to her quickly and certainly.
Calm only on the outside.
The moment he saw her—really saw her—something in his expression cracked.
"You're drunk," he murmured, crouching beside her.
And she—
She broke.
Tears spilled without warning.
Hot. Silent. Sudden.
"I signed it," she choked. "I signed my damn life away—"
"Hey," he brushed the hair gently from her face. His voice was steady, but his eyes were soft with something fierce.
"Don't cry."
She did anyway. And it undid him.
He wiped her cheeks with the back of his hand—tender, trembling.
Then, without another word, he stood. And lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing.
She buried her face into his chest.
Sobbing softly.
He held her tighter.
And the club?
It disappeared.
The noise.
The lights.
The watching eyes.
None of it mattered.
He carried her out. His jaw clenched.
Steps sure.
Like he was walking her away from hell itself.
_____
Outside – Minutes Later
The night was cool. Stars blurred above them, distant and disinterested.
Woo–Seok opened the passenger door, placed her gently in the seat, and buckled her in with the kind of care she wasn't used to anymore.
"I'm so tired…" she whispered, voice small.
"I know," he said softly. "You don't have to be strong right now."
And for the first time in hours—
She didn't pretend. She just leaned into the seat silently.
Letting him carry the weight.
Selen slumped against the window, eyes half-closed. But every few moments, her gaze drifted sideways.
To him.
Byeon Woo–Seok.
Her old crush. Her not-so-forgotten fantasy. Still heartbreakingly handsome, still unfairly kind.
And now?
Driving her through the city like some silent knight in tailored black.
She stared again.
Not even subtle.
God, he had the nerve to be even more gorgeous now.
Sharp jawline. Veins on his hand gripping the wheel. Brows furrowed like he was thinking too hard.
And that little mole by his nose—
The one she used to doodle hearts around in her diary.
He noticed.
"You keep staring," he said, not taking his eyes off the road.
"People might think you're falling for me again."
Her eyes widened. A flush exploded across her cheeks.
"I am not," she slurred, turning away dramatically. "Everything looks… nice when you're drunk."
"Oh?" he raised a brow, smirking. "So I'm only attractive in low-resolution now?"
"Statistically speaking," she mumbled, trying to sound smart but barely forming words, "You're probably just… average."
He laughed deeply, warm and smooth like a sin she wouldn't regret.
"Right. Totally average."
"That's why you've been staring for ten minutes straight."
She crossed her arms.
Huffed.
But her eyes drifted back to him again. A little softer. A little slower.
She didn't even try to hide it now.
Her gaze lingered. And something in her chest ached in a way that didn't feel drunk.
It felt familiar.
He glanced at her once.
Twice.
And his heart damn near cracked.
Because even shattered and wasted, she was still the same girl who once offered him a cherry lollipop and ruined his whole week with a wink.
Now, she was silk and storm and too much sadness.
And he?
He wasn't sure he could be what she needed— But right now, she didn't need saving. She just needed someone who stayed.
___
The Penthouse — 1:04 AM
The elevator chimed softly and they stepped into silence.
Dim hallway. Velvet floors. Glass walls that revealed a glittering Seoul stretched out like a sleeping beast.
Selen stumbled the moment her heels touched marble.
"I'm not that drunk," she said.
Then promptly tripped—
right into his chest.
Woo–Seok caught her instantly, arms firm around her waist.
"Uh-huh," he chuckled, voice low.
"You always fall with style?"
"Only when there's someone cute to catch me," she mumbled.
He raised a brow.
She flushed.
Before she could wobble again, he swept her into his arms.
A clean, effortless lift.
"Oh my God—" she gasped.
"Am I heavy?"
"You weigh less than regret," he murmured.
She blinked, that hit differently.
Then she melted into his chest, arms draping around his neck.
Her hair brushed his jaw. Her breath was soft against his collarbone.
And the scent of her—vanilla, champagne, ruin—wrapped around him like a memory he hadn't asked to remember.
"You smell like… cedarwood and… heartbreak," she whispered into his neck.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should."
Her lips brushed his throat.
He stiffened.
One step. Two. Then—
A kiss.
Soft, open-mouthed and wet. Not romantic but desperate, dizzy, drunk.
She sucked gently on the skin at the base of his neck. A slow, dragging pull.
His breath caught in his chest.
"Selen…" he whispered. "Stop. Don't…"
She didn't stop.
"Shhh," she whispered, nuzzling deeper. "You smell good. You feel safe. Just for a minute…"
Then she bit him.
Not hard. Just enough to make him curse under his breath.
"Fuck," he muttered. "You don't even know what you're doing."
"I know enough," she slurred. "I know you're warm."
"You don't even know who I am right now."
She went still for a moment, then whispered:
"Of course I do... Woo–Seok."
And that—
That shattered him.
He froze.
Every muscle, every cell, everything stopped.
She still clung to him, still kissed his neck like he was a promise she'd waited for.
He carried her the rest of the way in silent. Eyes locked on the hallway ahead.
Each step slower.
The door shut behind them with a
soft clic and Heavy silence.
He moved like muscle memory.
Turned on the hallway light. Adjusted the dimmers.
Carried her past a glass wall of the Seoul skyline.
Into the bedroom.
Laid her down carefully on the bed.
But before he could step back—
Her hands grabbed his shirt.
Pulled him down into a sloppy, needy and wrong kiss.
Her lips moved like they were trying to erase something.
"Stay," she whispered, brokenly.
"Please… just stay…"
He hovered over her, staring into her eyes. But they were glassy. Faded.
He gently unclasped her hands from his shirt and laid them on the blanket.
"Sleep, Sweetheart," he said softly.
"You'll feel better in the morning."
"Not if you leave," she mumbled.
But her voice was trailing now.
Her body sinking.
She drifted under—still dressed, still flushed, still aching from more than just the alcohol.
He stood there for a long time, watching her chest rise and fall.
Then he turned and walked into the bathroom, his jaw clenched tight.
The light flickered on. He looked at his reflection in the mirror—her kiss still burning on his lips, the imprint of her fingers on his neck. But something felt...wrong.
His smile twisted.
And then—
CRASH.
He punched the mirror, hard enough to crack the glass into a spiderweb of fury.
Blood dripped slowly from his knuckles.
The mirror reflected shards of a man he didn't recognize anymore.
"So you kissed me…"
His voice came low.
Almost like choked.
"…because you thought I was that bastard Woo–Seok?"
Silence.
The mirror said nothing. Just showed him what he already knew.
A bitter smirk tugged at his lips as he shut his eyes.
God.
She didn't see him.
She saw her crush.
He stared at his reflection—lips still damp from her mouth.
"Kim Taehyung," he whispered to himself.
"Not enough to be remembered.
Just enough to be mistaken."