Legal Disclaimer
This light novel is inspired by the beautiful landscapes and cultures of Bolivia and South Korea. However, the characters, events, and situations portrayed are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. This content does not intend to represent or reflect the historical, social, or cultural reality of either country. The author disclaims any legal liability arising from the interpretation of these elements.
Chapter 4 – Inner and Outer Turbulence
Zayra boarded the plane without looking back.
Her heart was pounding, not out of excitement… but because of the invisible weight she carried from that dream.
She walked past the wide seats of first class, then through business class, until she reached the back of the plane.
There, by the window, was her seat.
— "Economy…" —she murmured to herself with a small smile.
— "Just like you, Dad."
She remembered how he always said that comfort ruined character.
— "Traveling uncomfortably strengthens the spirit," he used to say with solemn conviction.
She let out a sigh, dropped into the seat, tucked her backpack under her feet, ran her fingers through her hair, and put on her headphones.
Closing her eyes, she let the instrumental music try to soothe the anxiety still burning beneath her skin.
***
A few rows ahead, in first class, Ryu adjusted himself coldly in his leather seat.
He pulled out his passport. His phone. And then… searched for his box.
Nothing. Frowning, he opened his backpack and checked thoroughly. Still nothing.
— "Where is my box?" — he muttered tensely.
A cold premonition ran down his spine.
Something told him this wasn't just a simple baggage mistake.
He raised his hand and called the flight attendant.
She came immediately.
— "Sir, the plane has already taken off," —she said politely.
— "We can't open the cargo hold or allow passengers to get up until the seatbelt sign is off."
Ryu clenched his jaw and cursed in Korean.
— "That woman at the airport…" he whispered.
— "It had to be her."
***
Meanwhile, Zayra was still lost in her thoughts.
The music wasn't enough to drown out the echo of her father's words.
— "You've disappointed me. You will have to marry, Zayra. Not for you. For the family."
That phrase hurt more than the sacrifice itself. She shifted in her seat, her fists tightening slightly on her thighs.
Her fate was sealed.
And the past… had boarded the plane with her.
***
The aircraft reached cruising altitude.
A soft "ding" turned off the seatbelt sign.
The flight attendants began walking down the aisle with automated smiles. But Ryu didn't move. His brow remained furrowed, his arms crossed, his jaw tense.
He couldn't understand what had just happened. He had always been careful with his belongings, and he had no idea how he had ended up with the wrong backpack.
He didn't remember exchanging it with anyone. The only thing he remembered was the impact against his chest when that woman had bumped into him.
Sungho, his personal assistant, approached discreetly.
— "Mr. Ryu… I checked all the overhead compartments in business and first class. It's not there."
— "And in economy?" Ryu asked, eyes fixed on the seat in front of him.
— "Too many people. Hats, masks… impossible to recognize the woman from the airport."
If only he knew she was less than ten meters away, he would have crossed the aisle without a second thought.
***
Ryu clenched his fists.
— "She took my grandmother's necklace…" — he muttered.
He clearly remembered his mother's voice.
— "I want you to deliver it yourself to your fiancée, son. It will be a symbol of trust between our families."
And now… it was in the hands of a stranger with a rudeness he hadn't seen in any woman.
— "Who the hell was that woman?" —he growled.
She had invaded his space, yelled at him in the terminal, and treated him as if he were the intruder.
He turned a page of his book, only to realize he hadn't read the previous one.
His fingers tapped once on the armrest… and then stopped.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
— "Why did I accept this marriage?"
Slowly, he rubbed his temple with two fingers, as if trying to ease the confusion. Her voice, her expression, her lack of apologies… kept replaying in his mind.
He didn't believe in love. Much less in love at first sight.
— "Marry a Latina? Please."
He had heard it all from friends who had dated Latinas: that they were outgoing, flirtatious, dreamers, incredibly sensual… and with "a lot of character."
But that part about "character" unsettled him.
In his culture, having character meant emotional control, serenity, acting with maturity even under pressure.
In Latin America, it seemed to mean the opposite: raising one's voice, demanding respect, standing one's ground when necessary.
And that, he couldn't understand.
***
The plane shook slightly and Ryu looked out the window, as if searching outside for an answer to his unease.
For him, that attitude only led to chaos. And chaos was his worst nightmare. He needed order, silence, efficiency. His life was scheduled to the minute in a digital calendar.
"And now I'm supposed to live with a woman who's probably my opposite?"
Besides, he had never been physically affectionate.
Yes, he had been in relationships, but they all ended the same way: women attracted by his surname, his wealth, or his image.
Never by who he really was.
What if his fiancée was just another opportunist?
A naïve girl with telenovela dreams?
What if she thought marriage was a fairytale ending?
Like those over-the-top soap operas his Latina nannies used to watch on TV when he lived in the U.S.: impossible loves, slow-motion tears, and kisses in the rain.
Ryu opened his eyes. Cold. Unwavering.
— "I don't care who she is. If she doesn't cooperate, I'll cancel everything."
***
Sungho glanced sideways. He knew Ryu didn't make threats, he passed sentences. But even he noticed something different this time. Ryu didn't sound entirely convinced.
With a silent exhale through his nose, Ryu closed the book and looked out the window, as the sky blurred into his thoughts.
One of his knees bounced once… then stopped, as if he had surprised himself.
Deep down, something bothered him more than the lost locket: the memory of a furious gaze, confidence without makeup, and a voice that spoke as if the world couldn't touch her.
The woman in the row wasn't ordinary… and that irritated him.
Though he had to admit, he found some satisfaction in replying to her in Spanish and seeing her reaction.
***
The plane hummed steadily at 35,000 feet. Ryu leaned back as the night sky stretched beyond the window.
Sungho handed him the phone.
— "Your father left a voicemail, sir."
He listened without enthusiasm.
His father's deep voice sounded calm… but with a razor's edge.
— "Son, this union is not just personal. Bolivia's semiprecious stones are skyrocketing in value. Japan, China, and India already have positions there. If we don't act, we'll lose ground. I know you don't like this. But if you want to protect the future of the company, you must do it. Be diplomatic. Be a leader. This union will bring us valuable connections.
Your mother and I trust you."
Ryu set the phone down on the tray.
He knew the wedding was a geopolitical move.
Bolivia was full of resources: lithium, oil fields, rare earths, and now… those precious stones from the Bolivian east.
He could refuse. He could say no.
But doing so wouldn't just deal a blow to the company… it would be a public humiliation for his family.
And he knew that, in his world, such humiliations came at a heavy price.
***
The board needed good news.
A solid deal.
And he… was their trump card.
Trying to distract himself, his gaze landed on a nearby screen.
On it, a flashy commercial showed a tropical woman dancing in front of a waterfall.
— "Live it like a Latina!" —she said, shaking her wet hair.
Ryu pressed his lips together.
"How vulgar…"
What if his fiancée was like that? Loud, dramatic, superficial?
Beside him, a passenger smiled at the commercial; for him, that image was a piece of his homeland, and the woman dancing under the waterfall seemed simply wonderful.
***
Ryu rubbed his temples, irritated.
He couldn't stand noise. Or intense people. Or those who spoke while touching others.
And as if his mind couldn't stop spinning, he thought:
"What if she doesn't even wash her hands after grabbing fruit at a crowded market, with vendors shouting prices and the smell of sweat and ripe mangoes in the air?"
He shrugged with a grimace.
He was different. Clean. Organized. Reserved.
He wasn't interested in intimacy. He didn't believe in romance.
And now he was heading straight into an arranged marriage with a woman who probably believed in fairytale endings.
Leaning forward, he whispered angrily:
— "What the hell am I doing?"
Sungho pretended not to hear. But that question… lingered in the air.
Like unexpected turbulence… one he didn't yet know would change everything.