Lily ran her fingers over the delicate material of the tweed and lace dress. She had just stepped out of a steaming bath, and now three stylists worked tirelessly on her hair. Curlers and pins littered her tiny vanity. Everything around her felt like a fever dream, a whirlwind of activity aimed at undoing the colossal media damage she had caused the day before.
Her mind blurred out the background. The hiss of hairspray, the rustling of tools, and the tug of a curling iron barely registered as she sat, fixated on her phone screen—specifically, on her message thread with Li Meng. The last message she'd sent him was still unread. The green tick refused to turn blue. No reply. No sign. Her fingers trembled slightly as she refreshed the thread one more time, hope flickering even when she knew it was useless.
Just then, a voice broke through the fog in her mind.
"Madam, your hair is all done and ready. Do you like it?"
Lily blinked, snapped out of her haze, and looked at her reflection for the first time since she'd sat in the chair. Her breath caught. Her hair was perfection—silky and smooth, cascading down her back in soft waves, with gentle curls kissing her waist. A soft shimmer gave it a glow under the vanity lights. She didn't recognize herself.
"This is beautiful," she whispered, then turned to the stylist. Her eyes shone with genuine awe. "I love it! Thank you so much, Mr. Chang. My hair has never looked this beautiful before."
Mr. Chang's serious face softened. He wasn't used to clients addressing him by name. "I would love to work for you again in the future, Ms. Lily. You are a beauty."
As the crew packed up and left, Lily sat in silence for a moment, still smiling. No one had ever called her beautiful before—not her family, not her classmates, not anyone who mattered. And though she was never one to dwell on compliments, this one sank into her like warmth on a cold day.
Just then, the doorknob turned with a click, and a thin, awkward-looking girl stumbled inside. She was younger, maybe just out of college, with a sharply cut bob and glasses that threatened to fall off her nose.
"I-I'm so sorry, Ms. Lily!" she gasped, bowing repeatedly. "This is my first time serving you, and I'm late. I—I should've planned better. I'm terribly sorry!"
Lily immediately rose and crossed the room to her. "Oh, please don't be so flustered. You're here now, and that's what matters. Come, sit down and have some water. You look like you ran a marathon."
The girl hesitated. "Oh no, Ms. Lily… I couldn't possibly—"
"I insist," Lily smiled gently. "You're shaking. Rest a moment, and then we can start fresh."
The girl finally nodded, taking the glass of water offered to her. "Thank you… I'm Hanna, by the way. It's my first month on the job, and I was so nervous to do makeup for someone like you."
Lily laughed softly. "Someone like me? That makes me sound scarier than I am."
"No! I just mean… you're really well known. And elegant. And I've read about you in the papers, but you're nothing like they say. You're… kind."
Lily's smile faded a little at the mention of the papers but returned quickly. "Well, they write what they want. But I'm glad you see me for who I really am. And Hanna, you're doing great. Everyone's nervous their first time."
Hanna's hands steadied as she began her work. She was precise, quick, and had a soft artistic touch. "I want to highlight your eyes—they're so expressive. They deserve attention."
"I trust you," Lily said simply.
Over the next half hour, the two fell into easy conversation. They talked about their favorite skincare brands, and the new worldwide famous talent survival show named 'ASTRIX' that they both loved. Hanna spoke of her dream to work on sets someday, doing makeup for film actors.
"You will," Lily said with certainty. "You're amazing at this. And you have the heart to match."
When Hanna finished, she stood back to admire her work. "Ms. Lily … You could rival Shin Ling on her best day."
Lily laughed, touching her cheek. "You're too kind."
"No, I'm serious. You're radiant. Elegant. You'll turn heads tonight."
Touched, Lily handed Hanna her phone. "Let's exchange contacts. I want to stay in touch. You're going to go far, Hanna. I can feel it."
"Thank you, Ms. Lily!" Hanna exclaimed, cheeks flushed. "And… if you ever need makeup again, I'd be honored."
The two hugged briefly before Hanna packed her tools and slipped out with a grateful wave. As the door closed, Lily felt a rare lightness in her chest.
With help from her maid, she slipped into the white tweed and lace dress. It hugged her tightly, a little too tightly, making it difficult to breathe freely—but oh, it was beautiful. The snug bodice emphasized her slender frame while delicate lace trailed her arms. She looked like something out of a dream.
A small sigh escaped her lips when she slid her feet into the six-inch heels. Her heels were a problem though. She had been trained by her etiquette teachers since she was twelve to walk in 6 inch heels. But today, the heels were a little too snug of a fit. One step was like agony in these shoes.
But Lily decided to bare with the pain. They were merciless—pinching, bruising—but there was no time to switch them out.
She clutched her matching white mask and hurried outside, where Mr. Hangman stood beside a sleek black car. From the empty drive, it was clear her family had already departed for the gala.
She climbed into the backseat alone.
The city lights outside blurred past the window like distant galaxies. Her heart pounded in her chest—not from nerves, but from anticipation. The charity masquerade gala was more than just another polished event. It was a chess move. A way for her family to show the world that their daughter was still composed, still worthy, despite the morning tabloids. Still controllable.
She looked down at her lap where the white masquerade mask lay waiting. Elegant and feathered, with silver lining the eye sockets, it felt both theatrical and symbolic. She would wear the mask—and the role—until it cracked.
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MEANWHILE : Shulong Group Skyscraper.
The sleek glass walls of the Shulong Group Business Enterprises Tower reflected the golden hues of the setting sun. From the top floor, the city sprawled like a glowing circuit board, buzzing with ambition and power. Inside the CEO's private office—an austere space lined with towering bookshelves and minimalist furnishings— Jinhai Shulong sat before a screen, brows furrowed in silent discontent.
Tall, sharp-featured, and impeccably dressed, Jinhai sat at the table in the private office. But beneath the surface was a storm of turmoil. As second son of Chairman Shulong, Jinhai had spent his life exceeding expectations. A prodigy by all standards, he had graduated from Harvard at seventeen, but when his father declared his older brother Lihyun Shulong heir to the shulong empire. Jinhai had decided then and there that he would leave the business world behind and pursue what he really wanted.
Jinhai was the ghost son of the Shulong family. The public didn't know of his existence. But he was always there in the background. He used a fake surname 'Su' in public. So as to not be associated with his family.
He had always loved his brother Lihyun dearly. He had looked up to him as his idol and he always looked after his brother.
When his father had declared an engagement between Lihyun and a girl from the Liang family as a merger deal, his brother, Lihyun, his brother had completely lost it. He had completely crashed. His brother was in love with someone else and this was his father's cruel way of taking away his brother's freedom.
"An engagement?" Jinhai muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair.
The words still felt alien.
Why now? Why Lihyun?
The only light came from the sharp glow of three monitors in front of him, each flashing fragments of documents, archived news articles, and private reports.
He sat, unblinking, top button undone, sleeves rolled slightly up his forearms. A loosely knotted watch hung at his wrist like an afterthought, ticking rhythmically as he scrolled through another page of search results.
Lily Liang.
The name was circled in red in the corner of one screen, as if it offended him by merely existing. He was going to get rid of this engagement for his brother.
"She's barely been in the headlines till yesterday," he muttered under his breath, fingers dancing over the keyboard. "Typical ghost daughter. Hidden in plain sight. Until they needed her."
The bitterness wasn't toward her. It was toward the situation.
His brother was being used like a pawn in some gilded merger sealed over whiskey and handshakes. Engaged. Without consent. To a girl he'd never met. All while his brother was deeply in love with another.
He exhaled through his nose, the breath short and sharp, like a scoff that never fully formed. This week his father would announce the engagement on live TV. A national event. It would act as a way to officially introduce Lihyun to the business world and simultaneously announce his engagement.
The screen flickered as a high-resolution image of Lily loaded.
It was from a school performance three years ago—her in a white silk qipao, mic in hand, mouth slightly parted mid-note. Her long hair caught the spotlight like strands of obsidian, and her eyes—deep, dark, defiant—seemed to look directly into the lens.
Jinhai leaned back slightly.
His expression didn't change, but something imperceptible passed through his steel-grey eyes. A flicker. A pause.
"...Pretty," he murmured.
There was a silence in the room now, carved out of disbelief. He shook his head once, clearing his throat loudly as if clearing the moment away like smoke, and leaned forward again. His fingers resumed their rhythm.
"Pretty doesn't mean anything," he muttered aloud, as if needing to hear the words to believe them. "They can dress her up like a doll all they want. It doesn't mean I'm letting this stupid engagement to my brother play along."
His phone buzzed quietly on the desk.
TEXT – From: Mr. Xu, Head Assistant
'Ms. Lily will be attending the Masquerade Charity Gala tonight. Would you like to attend sir.?'
Jinhai stared at the message for a few seconds before replying.
'Yes, I'm going.'
He placed the phone down, stood, and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. There was curiosity in his decision. But more than curiosity there was strategy. He wanted to see her in motion, observe how she played in the world he despised. If she was going to be his brother's "fiancée," then he was going to evaluate her the way he did a business competitor. And calculate the ways in which he could put this miserable engagement to an end.
Still, as he pulled a black mask from the drawer and slipped it into his pocket, the ghost of that picture lingered.
For the first time in years, Jinhai didn't know what he was walking into.