Aiden was the only one in the mansion.
The house was quiet, save for the soft, practiced steps of the staff who moved —silent, invisible, doing what they were paid to do.
He came down the stairs slowly, freshly showered, damp hair falling over his forehead in soft curls. He caught his reflection in the long hallway mirror and casually styled his hair back with his fingers.
His grey joggers hung perfectly on his lean frame, paired with a crisp designer white shirt made from soft Italian cotton, the buttons lazily open at the top. Expensive. Effortless. The look of someone who didn't have to try.
A few staff members greeted him as they passed.
"Good morning, Master Aiden."
He nodded. Said nothing.
He wandered into the entertainment room, dropped lazily onto one of the many leather couches, turned on a series. Ten minutes in, he sighed and tossed the remote aside. It didn't hold his attention. Nothing ever did these days.
He reached for his laptop—but paused when his phone vibrated.
Dad.
The name flashed across the screen. He hesitated, then answered.
"—Son, I'm sorry," came the voice mid-conversation. His father was clearly speaking to someone else in the background. "We'll talk later, something urgent came up."
Click.
Aiden didn't even sigh. He just rolled his eyes and dropped the phone face-down.
No surprise there. There was never a dinner. Never a talk. Never a weekend with his father. Only handshakes in newspapers and smiles for cameras.
He envied the kind of families he saw online—mothers and fathers laughing around cramped dinner tables. It was something he'd never known.
The silence in the house felt bigger than usual. He pushed open the sliding glass doors and stepped outside.
Cool air kissed his skin. The wind lifted his hair slightly. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight in his chest that never fully went away.
He pulled out his phone again and dialed.
The chauffeur came jogging across the vast garden lawn the moment he saw Aiden.
"Master Aiden," the man bowed lightly.
"We're going for a ride."
"Where to, sir?"
Aiden paused. Thought of Lina.
"Sungri-dong. Near the east community hospital." He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "It's been a boring weekend."
The chauffeur didn't question it. "Which car, sir?"
The sleek lineup of luxury cars shimmered under the sunlight. Polished beasts of beauty—each one custom, barely driven.
Aiden scanned them with a raised brow.
"Which one's best?" he muttered, though he already knew what he wanted.
The chauffeur shrugged, as if any of them would do. "Your preference, sir."
Aiden pointed to one. "That one."
A matte black Maybach SUV with tinted windows and custom alloy wheels. Bold, big, and discreet.
"Very well, Master."
The car cruised down to Sungri-dong, past neighborhoods that didn't make it into real estate magazines. Aiden sat quietly in the back seat, one elbow resting on the door, eyes half-lidded until they reached the bungalow he remembered from the day before.
It stood humbly among others—aged white walls with peeling paint, a slanted tiled roof, and a small yard with overgrown grass. A pair of worn slippers sat at the entrance.
The kind of home where lights flickered during storms.
The kind of home with warmth inside.
Aiden rolled down the window slightly, just enough to let the air in, just enough to see.
And there she was.
Lina.
She stepped out wearing a plain white dress, her brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She looked nothing like the girl from school—head bowed, shoulders drawn tight. Out here, she looked… peaceful.
Beside her was an older woman—probably her grandmother—gently arranging vegetables onto a wheelbarrow.
He didn't even realize he was smiling.
He watched them push the barrow onto the street, making their way slowly toward a nearby market.
"Follow them," Aiden instructed quietly.
The chauffeur obeyed without question.
The SUV crept slowly through the winding streets. They reached a crowded marketplace bustling with people, noise, and smells. Vendors shouted prices. Children ran between stalls.
Lina and her grandmother settled under a patched umbrella and laid out their vegetables on a blanket.
Aiden had never stepped foot in a place like this. Never had to. But now, he stared out at the chaos like it was something precious.
Pedestrians glanced at the SUV curiously, some staring in awe, whispering guesses about who might be inside.
Aiden ignored them.
"Uhm, what kind of food do people make with those vegetables?" he asked suddenly.
The chauffeur, still watching the market, replied calmly, "With what they have there? Stir-fries. Rice dishes. Pickles. Soups. Curry."
Aiden nodded. Eyes never leaving Lina.
She was haggling with a customer now, her face determined. Confident. The way her nose crinkled slightly when she smiled. The way she looked so alive here.
"Bring all of it," Aiden said.
"Sir?"
"Buy everything. She shouldn't have to stand in the sun all day."
The chauffeur didn't question him. He stepped out of the car and walked toward the stand.
Lina looked up, surprised. The grandmother's eyes widened as well.
"How many bundles would you like, sir?" Lina asked politely, her voice gentle.
"All of them."
She blinked. "A-All?"
"Yes."
Her grandmother put a hand over her heart. Lina turned to her, astonished.
"You're sure, sir?" she asked again, voice shaking slightly.
The chauffeur nodded and paid in full—more than full.
Lina hurried to load the vegetables into the car's trunk, giddy, energized. She counted the money and froze. It was enough to last them two weeks. Maybe more.
She turned quickly, almost ready to call out—but the car was already leaving.
Her throat closed up.
Her eyes stung.
It was a miracle.
The best day of her life.
She turned to her grandmother, grinning through the tears.
They held each other tightly as they packed their things and left the market—lighter, freer, loved.
Back in the car, Aiden sat with his hand propped under his chin, expression unreadable.
"She smiled," he murmured softly.
He hadn't realized how badly he needed to see that.
Or how far he'd be willing to go… to see it again.
—
It started like wildfire.
Aiden Kwon is into Lina Seo.
The halls buzzed with it. Whispers slithered between lockers. Screenshots flew across group chats. Snide glances turned into cold stares. Everywhere Lina went, the rumor followed like a shadow she couldn't outrun.
It didn't matter that she hadn't said a word to Aiden in public. It didn't matter that he had only looked at her, or maybe—God forbid—sat too close. That was enough.
Now she was a target. Not just invisible anymore—she was hated.
The girls in her class, already cruel in silence, turned openly hostile. The boys began to mock her.
When Lina walked the hallway, her hair down to cover more of her face, she kept her chin tucked, eyes down. She knew her hair looked better styled up, but hiding had become survival.
A sudden shove sent her stumbling into the lockers. She touched her shoulder and turned to see who had done it, but kept walking. She didn't want to start something.
"There she is," someone hissed.
Three girls blocked her path. One shoved her again, harder. Lina didn't move fast enough.
"You piece of trash," one spat. "Aiden must be blind. Or maybe you used black magic, huh? Going to trap him and drain his family's money? You're dirt. Poor trash doesn't get to rise. You were born at the bottom—stay there."
Before Lina could react, her bag was snatched and thrown down the hallway.
Another girl smacked her head. "Kneel, gold digger."
Lina's knees hit the floor. Her palms stung from catching herself. Her eyes burned, but she didn't let the tears fall.
Laughter echoed. Some boys nearby whistled mockingly. "That's the girl?" one sneered. "She looks like she eats leftovers off the street."
"She probably does," someone else chimed in. "Look at that uniform. Faded. Frayed. Ewww."
At lunch, the cruelty continued.
As Lina sat down, a boy at a nearby table smirked and kicked something onto the floor. "Hey, scholarship rat, fetch that for me. That's what you do, right? Pick up what the rich drop."
The girls laughed again. Lina chewed quietly, refusing to react.
She knew the rules: Don't fight back. Don't talk back. The moment she made a scene, they'd report her. Her scholarship could vanish.
She had no one to defend her.
Until the cafeteria went silent.
Aiden Kwon walked in.
Everyone froze. Trays paused mid-air. Even the noise of utensils stopped.
Aiden picked up his food like nothing had happened. The school's royalty moved like a ghost. Calm. Cold. Unshaken.
Two boys—his so-called friends—hurried to meet him before he could sit. One leaned in close, trying to speak low, but loud enough for Lina to hear.
"She's poor, man. Dirty. She's not one of us. You really want to ruin your name for a beggar like that?"
Aiden turned and looked him in the eye.
He said nothing at first. Just stared.
Then, with a quiet voice, dead calm and razor sharp, he spoke.
"Say that again—and you'll lose a tooth."
The boy blanched. He stumbled back, eyes wide. His friend grabbed his arm and they both backed away, muttering excuses.
Everyone watched. Breath held.
And then Aiden walked.
Right to Lina's table.
He sat down.
Again.
Lina looked up, stunned. Her chopsticks paused mid-air. Her mouth was half-full.
A tense silence followed.
Lina's heart pounded. She couldn't move. Could barely breathe.
Aiden looked at her face—and leaned forward. He reached out slowly, brushing a grain of rice from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
The cafeteria gasped as one.
Lina felt her entire face burn. Her throat dried up.
Aiden leaned back like nothing had happened, hand under his chin, cool as always. His cologne wrapped around her.
Lina sat frozen, the only sound now her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Around them, the school stared. The silence was louder than all the rumors in the world.
From across the cafeteria, a girl in a red hairband took a photo.
She smiled.
And pressed send.
To someone who had been waiting for it.