Today is the day. Where I'm marrying an omega I despise. How unfortunate. The thought alone made me feel like I wanna throw up.
Jung's mansion looked like a battlefield disguised as a wedding. Too many flowers, too many flashing cameras, too many strangers grinning like wolves. Every table was drowning in lilies and crystal, every hallway crawling with press disguised as "guests." It pisses me off. I like normal simple stuff that is a holy fancy battlefield. What the hell!
My mother was radiant, of course — red hair pinned into an elegant crown, greeting the Kang family like they were royal. Everyone in Seoul treated them like they ran the country.
And in the middle of it all stood Kang Woo-jin.
Pastel pink hair slicked back for once, turquoise eyes sparkling under the chandeliers, wearing a white suit that somehow made him look both angelic and untouchable. He smiled at every guest like he'd been rehearsing this moment for years.
I wanted to burn the place down.
"Dae-hyun," my mother hissed as I approached the altar, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. "Don't you dare ruin this. Not in front of the press."
"Watch me," I muttered.
Woo-jin heard. Of course he did. His lips curved faintly, like he was amused.
It's time for the ceremony.
The officiant's voice droned through the vows, but I wasn't listening. My whole plan was simple: say no. Public, humiliating, final. Make this sham marriage collapse before it even began.
"…do you, Jung Dae-hyun, take Kang Woo-jin as your lawful spouse?"
I opened my mouth. "I—"
"I do," Woo-jin said smoothly, stepping forward.
The room froze. Heads turned. The officiant blinked. What?
Woo-jin smiled sweetly at the crowd. "Dae-hyun already signed the papers last week."
My blood went cold. What is he talking about? I thought mom was joking about it, so this was for real?
My mother gave a gracious nod to the guests. "Yes. The legal part was handled quietly in advance. Today is just for the ceremony."
"What the hell are you—" I started, but Woo-jin was already holding up a folder. Inside was a pristine marriage certificate — with my signature at the bottom.
It looked real. Too real.
Because it was my signature. Perfectly copied. From what? A contract? A transfer document? Somewhere I hadn't been paying attention. Wait..the other day, I was told to sign something. Don't tell me…NO WAY!
The applause started before I could speak. Cameras flashed. People congratulated us like nothing was wrong. And my mother's warning glance sliced across the aisle: Behave.
Woo-jin leaned closer as the officiant declared us married, his lips barely moving.
"Struggle later, if you want," he whispered. "It'll be more fun."
At the Reception
The ballroom glittered with gold and crystal. Guests mingled, glasses clinked, music floated over the polished floor. Everyone adored Woo-jin. He charmed every relative, every business partner, even my grandmother — who doesn't even like me. Wow, just wow.
I sat at the head table, fists clenched under the linen, watching him glide through the crowd like a pastel phantom. Fake laugh. Fake blush. Perfect mask.
When the first dance was announced, I refused to move.
Woo-jin didn't ask. He simply took my hand, tugged me into the center of the floor with strength that didn't match his delicate appearance. Everyone clapped as if this was some romantic moment.
"You forged my signature," I snarled under my breath as we waltzed.
"Not forged," he murmured. "Borrowed. You really should read what you sign, fiancé."
"I'll have it annulled tomorrow."
He leaned closer, smiling for the cameras. "You could try. But your mother already filed it with the family courts. Do you really think she'll side with you?"
I almost crushed his hand in mine. "What do you want from me?"
His eyes gleamed turquoise under the chandelier, sharp as broken glass. "Oh, Dae-hyun… you really don't remember me, do you?"
A chill ran down my spine. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Woo-jin spun me gracefully, still smiling at the cheering guests. "Tonight," he whispered, voice silk over steel, "I'll remind you why you should never have hated omegas."
The song ended. Applause erupted. Woo-jin bowed slightly to me as though nothing had happened, then turned to greet the next guest, leaving me standing alone in the center of the ballroom, my pulse hammering.
For the first time, I realized this wasn't just politics for him.
This was personal.
And I was already losing.
After the wedding, both sets of parents — the groom's and the bride's — called us in for what they called a "serious talk." The word alone made my stomach twist. I already had a bad feeling, but I wasn't prepared for what came next.
"From now on," Woo-jin's father said firmly, "you two will live together. As husband and wife should."
I frowned. "We already are married. Why does it matter where I live?"
My father shot me a sharp glare. "Don't talk back. You'll move in immediately."
I blinked at them, trying to process it. "Move in… with him?" I gestured toward Kang Woo-jin, who was sitting stiffly beside me like a mannequin. "And where exactly are we supposed to live?"
His mother smiled like she'd just handed me a gift. "Oh, you'll buy your own house, of course. You can afford it, can't you? You're president of your own company."
I clenched my fists. "So let me get this straight," I said slowly, forcing my voice to stay even. "First, you force me to marry an omega I didn't choose and I hate. Now, you're telling me I have to move in with him and pay for it myself?"
"Watch your tone," my mother snapped. "This is for the good of the family."
"The good of the family?" I let out a harsh laugh. "Whose family? Certainly not mine."
No one looked at me. No one even flinched. They just kept talking over me, making arrangements, setting dates — as if I wasn't even in the room. And Woo-jin? He sat there, silent, his face calm and unreadable. Acting innocent as always. I HATE HIM.
When we finally walked out of that suffocating house, I could barely breathe. The moment the car door shut, I turned to him.
"So," I said bitterly, "you're just going to go along with this?"
He met my gaze without blinking. "What choice do we have?"
I threw my tie onto the car seat. "You could at least pretend to hate this as much as I do."
He tilted his head slightly. "I don't see the point. They won't listen to either of us."
I let out a harsh laugh. "Oh, so we're both puppets now. Good to know."
For a second, something flickered in his eyes — irritation? Amusement? I couldn't tell. But he didn't answer. And maybe that made me hate him more than the marriage itself.
One thing was certain: if they thought I'd let them control every part of my life, they had another thing coming.
Later that night, I cornered him in the hallway of our temporary hotel.
"Hey," I said sharply. "You're from a wealthy family, right? So why am I the one buying a place for us to live?"
Woo-jin didn't even look up from his phone. "You're the alpha. Isn't it your job to provide?"
I stared at him. "What does that even mean? You have money too."
He finally glanced up, calm as ever. "I have family money. Not the same thing. I don't like owing them favors."
"So you're fine with me footing the bill?" I asked, incredulous.
"Of course," he said smoothly, lips curling in a faint smile. "You're my alpha, after all."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Stop calling me that."
"Why?" His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Does it bother you?"
"It annoys the hell out of me," I snapped. "We're married on paper, not in reality. Don't act like we're some bonded pair."
He just shrugged, maddeningly unbothered. "Whatever you say… my alpha."
I groaned and walked away before I strangled him.
A few days later, I finally signed the lease on a modest apartment — nothing fancy, just big enough for two people who didn't want to see much of each other. I figured we'd split rooms or at least draw some boundaries. Oh, how wrong I was.
The first night there, I dragged in my luggage and said, "I'll take the bedroom."
"No," Woo-jin replied immediately, tossing his coat onto the only bed like he owned it.
"What do you mean no?" I glared at him. "It's my apartment. My money."
He smirked slightly. "Then you can afford a mattress for yourself. Floor's all yours, honeybear."
Did he just call me honeybear? I swear I'll divorce him. "You've got to be kidding me—"
"Goodnight." He literally shut the door in my face.
I slept on the cold floor that night, seething. By morning, I was ready to throw him out. But when I stumbled into the kitchen, half-dead and aching, he was already cooking breakfast — humming like nothing had happened.
"Sit," he said casually, sliding a plate toward me.
I crossed my arms. "I'm not eating your food."
His eyes narrowed, sharp for just a second. "Eat. You need your strength."
"Strength for what? Choking you?" I muttered.
He laughed softly — not amused, but dangerous. "Careful, honeybear. You wouldn't want to starve under your own roof."
The way he shifted between polite sweetness and subtle malice made my head spin. One minute he sounded like a doting spouse, the next he treated me like some pesky intruder. I honestly couldn't tell if he was messing with me… or testing how far he could push before I broke.
And worst of all? I couldn't shake the feeling he enjoyed watching me suffer. He knows I hate omegas. Everyone knows that. So why am I the one to suffer?