The rough, streetwise guy from the slums somehow ended up having to pretend to be a serious, intimidating high-society gentleman, with the mission of wooing a wealthy person to help them forget an ex. At first, it seemed simple enough just follow the script, get paid daily, no big deal. But actually being there… he was cute, and sexy enough to haunt my dreams.
Bare chest, strong arms and legs, big eyes, a beautiful face, and a muscular body like a model. I didn't know whether I was lucky or cursed that this guy looked like my high-society ex, with that sweet, delicate face. I'd never realized rich people could smell so soft or feel so smooth to the touch.
Just touching Ung-ing made me feel… weird. A tattooed, muscular guy, yet somehow, all the roughness from the slums didn't matter here. Normally, I would have shrugged off a guy like this as a useless show-off or someone who does drugs—but not him. All my mental biases disappeared; ignoring how wealthy he was, he was just… irresistibly charming.
At first, he seemed awkward, always avoiding eye contact, twisting his face away like he was in pain whenever he looked at me. But the more I spoke with him, the more I found myself secretly watching him. I don't know if he felt the same way but even now, he still doesn't smile like he does in photos.
We got close astonishingly fast. I never expected to get along with someone from high society, but when I'm with him, I just want him to smile. My thoughts are full of commands: "Make him smile." Even though I usually don't care about other people's orders, I thought that smile really suited him. Even other men would admire him this was no ordinary guy.
We became inseparable, even though I'm no high-society type—I don't even know how to order coffee properly. Every time we go out, he's the one teaching me manners, showing me how to walk and socialize. It's unnatural, but I enjoy how talkative he is more than sitting silently with a sulky face. The twins pay me daily not because I work hard, but because I want to see him.
On the night of the banquet
Ming and Kwan were ecstatic, like lunatics. Their friend had agreed to date someone else and even brought me along to play the role of the new boyfriend at a huge high-society event. They were so thrilled they practically rewarded me for getting close to their friend in just a week, and everything went smoother than expected. They even moved my grandma to a good private hospital, which made me happy nothing unexpected happened.
They trained me thoroughly in social etiquette, lent me suits, watches, shoes, and on the event day, even had a stylist do my hair and makeup like I was a daughter getting married.
"Fahsai, you look amazing today."
I knocked on Ung-ing's door, and he came out in a matte black suit. No matter what he wore, he looked handsome but to me, he looked even sexier. His smooth, firm skin alone screamed class and elegance.
He smiled slightly, gesturing as we walked together to the elevator, looking less tense.
"Ung-ing, you look incredibly sexy," I said without thinking, and he laughed softly right away.
"Why are you complimenting a guy like that?"
"Because it's true. So, are you drinking tonight?"
"Yes, we have to. We have to toast with everyone at the event. Will you drink too?"
"I can drink I have a strong stomach."
The atmosphere at the event was nothing short of cinematic—lavish, extravagant, and utterly dazzling. People crowded the hall, dressed in sparkling gowns and tailored suits, adorned with glittering jewelry. The grand ballroom of the hotel was transformed with fresh flowers, and wisps of white smoke floated across the carpeted floor as if walking through heaven itself. Fresh, exquisite dishes were laid out, with chefs lined up on one side, cooking each dish to perfection on the spot. The orchestra played classical Western music, while lights and sounds heightened the grandeur, making it almost impossible to take a step without being swept away by the spectacle.
"How does it feel? Does it look the same as in other countries?" someone asked. Well, how would I know? I'd never been abroad.
"Not even close… Ung-ing, don't leave me behind, I'm afraid I'll get lost. Hold onto my arm," I whispered into the white, flawless ear beside me, making sure it heard me amidst the crowd, not wanting to get too close to anyone for fear that some priceless jewel might vanish.
"You're kind of funny, Phi Fa. Are you hungry? Let's grab something to eat first," my pretend boyfriend said, guiding me to the food stalls. Meat seemed to be his favorite, and he made a beeline for the steak station, ordering the best cuts. I didn't know how to order, so I let him handle everything.
"Sure, anything's fine," I replied, my heart racing, sweat already forming on my back. My mind couldn't stop thinking about how expensive everything here must be if I accidentally broke something, how many lifetimes would it take to pay it off?
"Ung-ing, feed me a bite, will you?" I said, fully immersed in the role of a devoted, overly affectionate new boyfriend. Our bodies close, exchanging sweet glances, I felt like I could audition for a romance drama after this event.
"..Sure," he replied.
To avoid any mishaps with someone so wealthy handling delicate items, I let him pick up the utensils himself. Every motion he made was effortless slicing, serving, even the way he held the fork and knife flowed with natural grace. Whatever he offered me, I ate it all, tiny bites that barely filled me at all.
"Would you like some white wine, Phi Fa?" my pretend boyfriend asked as a waiter approached with a tray of drinks. Wine like this wouldn't affect me; after all, forty-proof liquor back home couldn't even touch me… unless the quantity was overwhelming.
"Sure, I'll have some," I said, and he handed me a tall, slender glass filled with a clear liquid that looked much like the local white spirits from my hometown.
Grab!
I just grabbed his hand and took a sip for him—couldn't risk touching the glass myself. It was so delicate that if I squeezed too hard and broke it, who would be responsible?
Gulp, gulp.
"Uh… P'Fah—"
"I'm very particular about cleanliness," I said, still holding his hand. "I don't like touching things outside my home. Your hands are the cleanest, Ung-ing." Terrible excuse, but I had to cover it up.
"Oh, Ung-ing! Fia came with you?"
"Hello, sir. No, he's not P'Fia—he's my current boyfriend, P'Fah."
Has this old man gone blind? How could he see a handsome guy as a villain? Seriously! Just as I'm minding my own business, my fake boyfriend looks at me all scrunched up.
Ung-ing put the glass down, so I seized the moment, wrapping my arm around his waist and pulling him close, tilting my chin up to look at the old man, daring him. I didn't know him, and frankly, I didn't care.
The old man hadn't even finished talking before nearly everyone at the party seemed to know him and greeted him. I wanted to mess up my perfectly styled hair in frustration.
Then came the culprit who had been tormenting my fake boyfriend, striding in with an aura of charm, tall and imposing, followed by a slightly shorter man—probably an assistant or bodyguard, as rich people often have.
"Fia, over here!" And of course, it was the same old routine, gathering people at the front of the stage. Was this a charity gala or a flea market?
"Hello everyone."
"Talkative today, huh? Have you met Ung-ing's new boyfriend yet?"
Of course, the nosiest one is always the meddling aunt.
"Ung-ing came early! Hello, is this your boyfriend?" The ex addressed me and Ung-ing, who were hugging closely. Honestly, we might as well have been making out on stage. Ung-ing's face was tight, but he gave his ex a slight smile. Damn, his acting is better than mine.
I'd wondered for a long time why rich people's smiles looked so forced, never laughing fully, always restrained. The ex reached for Ung-ing's hand. I figured the ex didn't want to hold hands with me, but my fake boyfriend glanced at me, so I had to take it politely.
"You look just like… yourself," someone next to the ex said. Who the hell even is this person? The reminders kept coming—no wonder Ung-ing's never fully happy in this society.
Tonight's atmosphere was insane. In a high-society circle, everyone knows everyone. Everyone knew Ung-ing and Fia, but not me. The ex brought his spouse along, acting lovey-dovey, and then they had to go up on stage together to receive donations. Ung-ing had drunk quite a lot of wine, nearly tipsy, drinking in my place, so I had to keep holding him close the entire time.
"Ung-ing must be really drunk. Let's get him home," the ex whispered, low enough for only me to hear. I wanted to, but didn't know the way.
"Help me get him outside. I don't know where to go." I figured if I was stepping up, I might as well use it. Ung-ing cooperated, coming out on his own while the ex's spouse went off to chat somewhere.
"How long have you two been dating?" the ex asked.
Mind your own business! I wanted to say that, but I'm stuck playing a high-society role.
"Not sure. We've been talking for a while, then became official," I lied smoothly.
"I'm glad he found someone who can truly care for him better than I could… If I'd had the courage to tell him from the start, he wouldn't have gotten hurt like this."
"What do you mean?"
"Ung-ing thought I loved him, but I only ever saw him as a brother. Back then I thought anything would do, but when he wanted to marry for real, I couldn't, because I'd already loved someone else."
"You… that's terrible. Don't ever do that to anyone again. It hurts them."
"I'm sorry. Truly sorry. From now on, I leave Ung-ing's happiness in your hands. I can't make him happy. Excuse me, I have to go in. I've called a car to pick him up."
"Mm… thanks."
I don't really get high-society relationships. I don't know how they're supposed to love each other, or if dating has to look a certain way, or if rich people are pressured to pick someone equally wealthy…
But one thing's clear: the extremely rich and the extremely poor probably don't belong in the same world.