The six days had evaporated like a fever dream. Now, the grand ballroom of the Shilla Hotel was a sea of white lilies, shimmering crystal, and the most powerful faces in the country. Hundreds of high-profile investors, politicians, and celebrities sat in rows of velvet chairs, their hushed whispers filling the air.
"The merger is finally sealed," one billionaire whispered to another. "This isn't a wedding; it's a coronation."
On the elevated stage, Kang Ji-Hoon stood like a statue. He looked impeccable in a black tuxedo, but his heart felt like it was made of lead. He stared out at the flashing cameras of the media, feeling the heavy gaze of his father in the front row. He was a prisoner in a designer suit, performing the most expensive play of his life.
Suddenly, the grand doors at the end of the aisle swung open.
The room went silent as a haunting melody filled the air. Han Seo-Yeon appeared, framed by the golden light of the doorway. She was breathtaking in a structural, floor-length white gown that clung to her figure with regal precision. Holding her father's arm, she walked toward the stage with a steady, unbreakable gaze.
"She's like an ice queen," someone murmured.
"The most beautiful bride I've seen in a decade," another added.
As they reached the stage, Chairman Han placed his daughter's hand into Ji-Hoon's. Her skin was cool, her touch professional. They turned to face the officiant, reciting promises they didn't mean and vows that felt like lies.
Then came the rings. Ji-Hoon took the diamond band, his fingers steady only because of sheer willpower, and slid it onto Seo-Yeon's finger. She followed, sliding a heavy platinum band onto his.
Ji-Hoon let out a small, silent breath, thinking the ordeal was almost over. But as they turned to the crowd, the chant began.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
The media cameras surged forward, lenses ready. Ji-Hoon froze. The agreement was clear: No touch. But he looked at the front row—the investors, the cameras, the hungry eyes of the press. If they didn't comply, the "perfect merger" would look like a sham before it even started.
Seo-Yeon's eyes met his. She saw his hesitation and knew the stakes. Without a word, she took the initiative. She reached out, her hands gripping his lapels to pull him down toward her. She crashed her lips against his in a firm, convincing kiss.
Ji-Hoon was stunned, his eyes wide for a fraction of a second before he instinctively closed them. The room exploded in applause and the blinding white light of a thousand camera flashes.
In her darkened living room, Yoo Ara sat on the floor, the blue light of the television reflecting in her tear-filled eyes. She watched the screen as the man who had promised her "it was just a contract" kissed the most powerful woman in Seoul.
The sight felt like a physical blow to her chest. She clutched the star-shaped necklace at her throat, the diamond digging into her skin, and turned the TV off. The silence that followed was the loudest thing she had ever heard.
The reception ended in a blur of handshakes and fake smiles. By the time they reached Seo-Yeon's private estate, the moon was high.
The house was a masterpiece of modern, cold architecture—glass, steel, and grey stone. It was a place built for a CEO, not a family.
As they entered, Ji-Hoon threw his jacket onto the sofa and collapsed into the cushions, his head in his hands. "I'm exhausted," he groaned. "Which one is my room? I need to sleep."
Seo-Yeon, already unbuttoning her cuffs, looked at him coldly. "I haven't prepared a room for you."
Ji-Hoon looked up, confused. "What? We're living here for three months. Where am I supposed to go?"
"I had no time to manage your domestic needs, Mr. Kang," she replied, her voice like glass. She pointed toward a door at the end of the dark hallway. "There is a guest suite there. It hasn't been used in years. Clean it yourself."
Without another word, she turned and disappeared into her own master suite, the door clicking shut behind her.
Ji-Hoon stood up, his blood boiling. He walked to the door she had pointed out and shoved it open. A cloud of dust billowed out, making him cough violently. The furniture was covered in grey sheets, and the air smelled of stale neglect.
"You've got to be kidding me," he hissed, his anger finally snapping.
He slammed the door shut, grabbed his car keys, and marched back out to his Lamborghini. He needed to feel the wind, the noise of the city—anything to remind him he was still alive.
Moments later, Seo-Yeon emerged from her room, having changed into a simple black silk robe. She looked toward the living room, but the house was empty. The roar of a high-powered engine echoed in the driveway before fading into the night.
She stood in the silence of her perfect home, looking at the empty sofa. Then, she walked to the hall, grabbed her own keys, and stepped out into the night.
End of Chapter 10...