The elevator ride to Lee Joon-hyuk's penthouse was eerily silent. Ji-woo clutched her small suitcase tightly, her nerves fraying with each floor the numbers blinked past. The moment the doors opened, she stepped into a space that looked like it had been torn straight out of an architectural magazine.
Marble floors, crystal lighting, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a panoramic view of Seoul's skyline. It was pristine, breathtaking—and cold. Just like the man who owned it.
He stood near the window with a glass of wine in hand, not bothering to greet her. His back was turned, the setting sun casting an orange glow across his sharp silhouette.
"You're late," he said coolly.
Ji-woo walked in and set her suitcase by the entrance. "Traffic."
"You'll need to adjust your timing. Public image is everything, and that includes punctuality."
She didn't respond. Instead, she looked around the enormous space. "Do I at least get my own room?"
"Of course," he said, finally turning to face her. "Third door on the right. You're free to redecorate it however you want. Just send the bill to my assistant."
The lack of emotion in his voice made her stomach twist. She had known this wasn't going to be a love story, but the icy reality still stung.
"You really treat everything like a transaction, don't you?" she asked.
He tilted his head slightly. "It keeps things clean."
"I'm not an object," she snapped, the pressure of everything crashing down on her at once. "You might've bought my time, but you didn't buy me."
Joon-hyuk's eyes darkened for a split second, but then he looked away. "You'll be fitted for a dress tomorrow. The gala is in two days, and the press will be watching closely. We need to appear convincing."
"So I'm your doll now," she muttered.
"You're my wife. At least, in the eyes of the world."
His words were sharp, final, but something about the way he looked at her next—almost like he was testing her—sent a chill down her spine.
Ji-woo straightened her back. "Fine. I'll smile. I'll hold your hand. I'll play your loving wife to perfection. But don't expect me to be silent when you cross the line."
For the first time, Joon-hyuk smirked, just a little. "Good. I wouldn't want a weak woman at my side anyway."
Ji-woo walked past him and into her new room, slamming the door shut behind her.
And as Joon-hyuk sipped his wine again, staring into the skyline, a strange thought crossed his mind:
She's different.