The morning was unusually cold for spring, with a crisp breeze curling through the narrow alleyways of Seoul. At the flower shop, Seo Hena carefully trimmed the stem of a white carnation, her fingers delicate, her movements calm and measured. The scent of morning dew and lavender filled the air, yet a strange restlessness tugged at her spirit.
She had always been this way—gentle, soft-spoken, and kind to a fault. Her customers adored her for her patience, the way she seemed to listen with her whole heart. Yet beneath that warmth was a quiet ache, one she had never shared.
"Unni!" Claire called, rushing into the shop. "You'll never guess who's trending again—Damian Lee!"
Hena glanced up, tilting her head. "Damian Lee?"
Claire held up her phone, showing the image of a sharp-jawed man in a charcoal suit stepping out of a luxury car, flanked by reporters and bodyguards.
"CEO of DL Enterprises. The nation's most eligible bachelor, heartless billionaire, cold genius—you name it."
Hena blinked. "He looks… stern."
Claire grinned. "Stern? He looks like he doesn't even believe in joy. But he's gorgeous, admit it."
Hena smiled faintly. "He looks... lonely."
---
Across the city, Damian Lee adjusted his cufflinks in the backseat of a black Maybach, his eyes scanning the latest reports. His assistant, Mr. Han, sat beside him silently.
"Your ten o'clock meeting with the Singapore investors has been moved to eleven," Mr. Han said, "and Madam Seo has called again. She insists—"
"Tell her I'm not interested," Damian cut in, his voice crisp and final.
"She says it's a matter of national pride."
Damian closed the file and looked out the window, expression unreadable. "National pride doesn't concern me. Profits do."
But even as he said the words, a flicker of irritation passed his eyes. Madam Seo's influence was everywhere, especially in the upper echelons of Seoul society. Powerful, manipulative, and relentless—she was known as a queenmaker.
And today, she had a new plan.
---
In a lavish estate nestled in the hills of Seoul, Seo Hara descended a marble staircase in heels that clicked with purpose. Her beauty was striking—mirror-sharp eyes, ruby lips, posture that screamed perfection. But her phone buzzed before she reached the dining room.
"Meeting with Madam Seo at noon. Wear the navy dress. No arguments."
Hara scoffed and typed back: "I'm not your puppet, Mother."
No reply.
Madam Seo was not the type to argue over text.
When Hara walked into the room, the older woman was already waiting. Dressed in a designer hanbok with pearls around her neck, Madam Seo exuded power with every movement.
"Hara, sit. You have a dinner tonight with Damian Lee."
Hara froze. "What?"
"It's already arranged. You'll marry him."
"I don't even know him!" Hara snapped. "You can't just sell me off like some—"
"This is about legacy," Madam Seo interrupted coolly. "Damian's company is set to expand globally. Marrying into the Lee family will elevate our name beyond politics—into empire."
"I don't want an empire. I want my own life."
"You've had enough freedom. It's time you did something for your family."
For a moment, rage flared in Hara's eyes, but she swallowed it down, lips tightening. She had always fought to be seen, to be heard—but Madam Seo had a way of crushing even the loudest voice.
---
That afternoon, in a modest apartment above the flower shop, Hena arrived home to find her grandmother humming as she folded laundry.
"Hello Granny," she greeted warmly, "I brought your favorite red bean pastries."
"You really had to prepare lots of desert," her grandmother said with a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling with affection. "Sit, sit."
As Hena unpacked the small snacks onto a tray, she paused, hearing her grandmother mutter softly to herself while putting away blankets.
"I couldn't keep her," the older woman whispered, unaware Hena had returned. "So small… they took her away. I only got to keep one…"
Hena froze, her heart thudding in her chest.
"What did you say, Halmeoni?"
Her grandmother turned abruptly, startled. "Oh—nothing, child. Just an old woman's ramblings. Memories of things long gone."
But Hena couldn't shake the feeling. One? Who did she mean? Who did they take away?
The ache in her heart deepened into something sharper. She had always felt like she didn't quite belong anywhere. Like half of her was missing.
And now… she had a reason to wonder why.
---
Later that evening, Damian stood in front of a mirror in his penthouse bathroom, loosening his tie. The day had been long, but his thoughts lingered on the girl from the flower shop. There was something familiar in her eyes—soft, but not fragile. A quiet strength.
"She's not like the others," he murmured to himself, before shaking his head.
Emotions were distractions. Feelings led to chaos. He had no time for softness.
---
At the same time, Hara stepped into her walk-in closet, trying on the navy blue dress her mother had chosen. She looked stunning. But the reflection in the mirror didn't feel like her.
"I won't marry him," she whispered to herself. "I'll find a way out."
She didn't want to be a pawn in her mother's empire.
But little did she know, fate had already begun to twist the lives of two sisters who didn't know they were sisters.