Chapter Text
Rumi’s childhood was enclosed by walls carved with lavish motifs and animal-skin carpets steeped in the scent of gold and silver.
Each passing year meant towering birthday cakes rising above head height and hundreds of presents wrapped in the fragrance of premium paper, sent by countless people.
Her school years were marked by immaculate, expensive white uniforms always perfectly pressed in her wardrobe—flawless report cards—and tender love letters slipped into her shoe locker daily.
Her family was two beautiful mothers who loved and pampered her as if she were a princess from a fairy tale.
Her first situationship bore the name of a famous supermodel in a red dress—a dress that had been torn apart by her own hands in a sky-piercing penthouse, amid the sharp tang of wine blending with the heady perfume.
But they didn’t know. They would never know.
Her first obsession—a faded image stored in her mind like a yellowed reel of film. The strands of pink hair flying in the wind. Cold eyes with a flickering ember inside that never went out. A silver necklace decorated with painted, smudged can tabs resting on a delicate collarbone.
“You’re pathetic.”
That cursed sentence had haunted Rumi for fourteen long years, clinging to the lining of her stomach like an invisible parasite.
Her slender fingers slid up and down the tablet on her lap as she read the articles written about herself. The smooth hum of the limousine’s engine did not soothe her as it usually did—it only added weight to her already heavy heart.
Rumi hated how the press and media focused solely on her beauty, on which brands she wore today, and on her family’s vast fortune instead of her own contributions and achievements for Sunlight Group.
Rumi hurled the tablet onto the leather seat beside her. Her mothers had been right—she should never have read those ridiculous articles. They served only to distract her from her work.
The business world was a battlefield, vision and strategy were the weapons, a steel spirit the armor, and victory lay in the numbers and in the pinnacle no one else could reach. She would not allow those who looked down on her to have their way.
“You’re pathetic.”
The familiar stab of pain shot through Rumi’s head again. The businesswoman winced, pressing her fingers hard against her temple in distress.
No. Not this time. I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you.
Her limousine pulled up in front of Sunlight’s headquarters. Through the luxurious car window, the towering building rose before Rumi like a colossal blue fortress. It was the pride her two mothers had built, and now they had entrusted it to her.
Rumi was the new queen of this empire, and she would let no one—and nothing—devour her.
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“What is this?”
The leader slammed the report down on her desk. She did not look pleased at all. A male employee in his forties was standing, hunched and timid in her office. His fingernails dug into his palms, and his teeth pressed hard into his lip in silent disapproval, yet his eyes did not dare lift to meet his boss’s.
“I gave you an entire week to complete the statistical report for the previous quarter. The data was already in the accounting software—and yet you hand me these sloppy, error-ridden sheets like this?”
Rumi rubbed the corner of her eye. Normally, she didn’t like to raise her voice at staff, but the mistakes so childish and ridiculous left her no choice but to lose her temper.
“Manager Kim, you are one of the company’s veterans and even worked under my mother. I expected your abilities to be far better than this. Redo the report and submit it to me in three days. Any foolish mistake could lead to a demotion.”
Manager Kim squeezed his stack of papers so tightly it crumpled into a wrinkled wad in his hands. Blue veins stood out on his face with rage. He should count himself lucky that Rumi didn’t look up when he shot a glare at his superior on his way out of the office.
Once again, Rumi’s office sank back into its usual quiet. The CEO leaned into her swivel chair and let out a low growl in her throat.
She opened the drawer to her right. The first thing that caught her eye was an already-opened envelope, and inside it a beautifully decorated invitation card—a class reunion invitation.
Had it been any other occasion, Rumi would probably have refused at once, citing a scheduling conflict—mostly because she had never really liked her old schoolmates. Don’t even think she had been bullied or anything like that. As the princess of the Sunlight hospitality empire spanning across Asia, not even teachers or the principal had dared to touch her. But that also meant the bees and butterflies were always buzzing around her.
Those people could hardly be called friends. They just wanted to take honey from her, to exploit her aura for their own gain, or to raise their status in that miniature society known as school. Unfortunately, Rumi had not realized any of this at the time. She had gone along with every bizarre stunt they had urged her to join. At school, she had been “the princess,” but in the end, she had only been someone trying to please others.
Rumi had once tasted the pain brought on by her own school-day mischief—a stinging slap from a pink-haired girl.
That rosy pink hair, like plum blossom branches in the snow, burning like live embers, dazzling as the break of dawn.
The girl’s voice flickered again in Rumi’s mind, making her head throb once more—but this time it was blurred, a jumble of static like a radio gone fuzzy, no words distinct.
Back to the class reunion, Rumi honestly felt no interest, but unfortunately the party was being held right at the restaurant inside a hotel owned by her Group. It was an invitation Rumi could not refuse.
Her mind began to sketch out possible scenarios. Perhaps this was a setup—someone had grasped her weakness and seized the chance to humiliate her right inside her own castle. Perhaps it was an offer of cooperation, an attempt to use old friendships to soften her. Or perhaps it was simply, genuinely a class reunion, that everyone had emerged from their own cocoons to become butterflies.
Either way, whatever this was, Rumi could only play along.
The night of the reunion arrived swiftly. A sleek black limousine rolled forward and came to a slow stop before the Sunlight Hotel’s grand entrance. Warm yellow light from the massive crystal chandeliers inside spilled outward, glinting on the intricate white marble of the entryway.
At the door, rows of receptionists and security guards in perfectly tailored uniforms stood in formation, bowing to greet each guest. Gentle breezes from the Han River carried a faint hint of lavender, mingling with the mellow jazz drifting from the live band within. This place was a block of luxurious architecture covered in glass and steel—towering, stately, and unshakable in the heart of the capital.
The sound of high heels clicking the marble floor in a confident and proud rhythm. The staff instantly recognized their CEO, they stopped whatever they were doing and bowed in unison. One even hurried forward to press the V.I.P elevator button for her and gestured her inside with the deference reserved for true royalty.
The fine-dining restaurant on the 55th floor of the Sunlight Hotel tower was a favorite rendezvous for the upper class and devotees of culinary art. It didn’t keep Rumi waiting long—with a soft ding, the elevator doors slid open as though ushering her into another world.
Awaiting her was a majestic panorama: Namsan Tower gilded in night’s golden glow, mountain ranges cupping the city, the Han River meandering like a silver ribbon, and the lights of thousands of buildings shimmering like falling stars when the night falls. The full-height glass walls capturing the whole of Seoul were themselves a testament to the restaurant’s expense and splendor.
Rumi had already been informed by the manager that one of her former classmates had reserved the entire restaurant for the night. The school she once attended was an elite private K-12 school for the children of the wealthy. Her maman Celine had wanted her homeschooled, but mom Mi Yeong had insisted on sending her to school. She said a child should be exposed to the outside world rather than kept under lock and key day after day. Though none of her classmates could rival her family’s fortune, not one of them was ordinary—if they weren’t scions of distinguished houses, they were already in state or political circles. Surely among them there were people willing to spend lavishly to book out an evening to flaunt their wealth, especially when Rumi’s own restaurant ranked among the most expensive venues in Seoul.
The soft jazz floated through the air, soothing tired ears after a long day. Golden lights spilled onto a long table draped in immaculate white linen. More than half the class had already arrived—the clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter mingled with the scent of expensive wine and the steam rising from freshly served dishes.
All conversation ceased the moment they realized Ryu Rumi was stepping in. Once the princess of their school, now the queen of a billion-dollar business empire. She moved across the floor as though a red carpet had been rolled out beneath her feet. No words could capture the full splendor of the CEO in that black bodycon dress, perfectly accentuating her figure and the lines of her face.
Everyone held their breath. Without anyone needing to announce it, they all knew who the star of the evening was.
Among the frozen crowd, Sangwoo—the one who had organized the reunion—strode up to greet her, arms spread wide in welcome. Of course it was Choi Sangwoo, vice president and heir apparent to Seoul’s chain of exclusive nightclubs, as well as a business partner of Rumi’s group. Who else could so lavishly foot the bill for a night like this?
Sangwoo greeted Rumi with a flawless, charming smile. “It’s been far too long, Miss Sunlight. We honestly thought you’d be too busy to even spare us a glance. You're getting more and more beautiful."
He was tall and impeccably groomed. His tailored suit hugged his frame, and the masculine scent of cedar cologne could have snared the heart of any woman nearby—though clearly not Rumi’s.
“Please don’t say that, Mr. Choi. Even I have to let myself enjoy a little fun sometimes,” Rumi replied. She didn’t hug Sangwoo—she offered only a light handshake instead. The formal address made it clear she had no intention of getting close with this smooth talker.
Unlike what she had imagined, Sangwoo seemed completely unfazed by her deliberate distance. He led Rumi to the head of the table and politely pulled out a chair for her, sitting himself on the right side next to her.
At first, everything went on like an ordinary, affectionate class reunion, with people asking after each other and showing off their careers and lavish lifestyles. Rumi disliked sitting among such hollow people, but she remained impeccably polite, never once letting her poised businesswoman facade slip. Everyone wanted a word with the CEO of Sunlight Group, hoping for a future collaboration—or at least to leave a lasting impression.
“Are you enjoying the party, Miss Ryu? Don’t be so tense—relax that beautiful face of yours. Anything you want tonight, I’ll make it happen,” Sangwoo said.
“You talk as though you’ve forgotten this entire building belongs to me, Mr. Choi. How sly of you—you knew I wouldn’t be able to refuse,” Rumi replied, curling her lips into a faint, mocking smile as she raised her glass for a slow sip. Sangwoo showed no sign of being provoked by her indifferent demeanor. If anything, his smirk grew wider.
“Oh, Your Highness, you wound me. I actually chose your restaurant for a perfectly good reason, not to trap you.”
“For example…?” Rumi arched an eyebrow.
Sangwoo chuckled, sly as a fox on the verge of getting what it wanted. Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, “If I told you now, it would ruin the surprise. But don’t act so haughty. You’re not the star of tonight’s party.”
The taunt successfully pulled Rumi’s full attention back to the reunion. A flicker of offense passed through her. Was there truly someone here more noteworthy than the CEO of Sunlight Group? Sangwoo had thrown her a single breadcrumb and expected her to claw for the rest. A dark intuition crept up on her—the razor-sharp instinct of a businesswoman who had stared down countless risky contracts. It told her, unmistakably, that she was not going to like what came next.
Choi Sangwoo stood up, tapping his wine glass lightly with a spoon to draw the attention of his former classmates. Just as he’d hoped, the room fell silent and all eyes turned to the man presiding over tonight’s gathering.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my esteemed guests, thank you for braving every difficulty to assemble here on this important evening. I, Choi Sangwoo, am truly moved beyond words to be reunited with my old friends.”
He extended a hand toward Rumi beside him and raised his voice. “Before we move on to the main event, let’s have a round of applause for the exquisite service of this magnificent restaurant owned by Ms. Ryu Rumi—and for the honor of having her here with us tonight.”
Thunderous applause broke out the moment Sangwoo finished speaking. As a matter of courtesy, Rumi put on her professional smile and dipped her head in gratitude. Sangwoo signaled to the servers, who immediately moved in formation, pouring wine for each guest. In crisp white uniforms, they glided to every seat, serving as though to kings and queens—earning the guests’ total satisfaction.
Sangwoo gave a special signal to a particularly pretty waitress to pour wine for him, something that Rumi didn’t really pay attention to at first. As the woman slowly tipped the stream of deep red into his porcelain glass, Sangwoo continued, his voice now much more animated.
“To begin tonight’s main event, I’d like to introduce the true star of our gathering. Someone none of us could possibly forget—a member of our class who stayed with us for five years, from middle school through the middle of our eleventh grade.”
While the room was still lost in confusion, Choi Sangwoo reached out and snatched the beret off the server who was pouring him wine.
A cascade of pink hair tumbled down like a waterfall, strikingly vivid against the crisp white uniform and under the golden chandeliers above, capturing the eyes of everyone present in the vast restaurant at that time.
The color bled into the corners of Rumi’s vision like a slow-motion reel, draining her composure. This was the hair she had seen in dreams thousands of times—the rose pink that had haunted her mind for fourteen relentless years. She had nearly forgotten the woman’s face, but the voice remained etched in memory.
“Everyone, please welcome our former classmate—Han Mira!”
Sangwoo firmly pulled the woman’s arm and murmured into her ear, “Or should I say Kang Mira now?”
The room instantly erupted in a storm of whispers and gasps, chairs screeching across the marble floor as people stood up to get a clearer look. No one could have foreseen Han Mira’s appearance at the reunion—least of all as a server. The daughter of the real estate tycoon Han, she had vanished from school in the middle of her eleventh grade without a trace. For ten long years, no one had so much as mentioned the pink-haired girl again, until tonight. Just seeing Han Mira in the flesh was enough to stir a flood of buried memories in everyone present at the restaurant.
Rumi was no exception. She was too stunned by the sight of the pink-haired woman to notice Mira’s clenched jaw and the faint tremor in her wrist under Sangwoo’s merciless grip. Her head was buzzing as if a compressor was pressing down on both temples, breath catching. Echoes of a voice from long ago came flooding back, looping endlessly like a broken recorder. Her mind began to drift, slipping into that distant haze of the past, leaving reality far behind.
The spell broke when Sangwoo shoved Mira to the ground. He wiped his hand with a napkin as though he had touched something filthy. Slowly, he approached the kneeling woman—the predator closing in on its cornered prey—spitting venom with every word.
“Han Mira, daughter of the late real estate mogul Han Jun Seo—who, as we all know, died in a car crash ten years ago. They call her his daughter, but let’s be honest, she’s nothing more than the filthy blood of a shameless mistress who seduced another woman’s husband while his wife was pregnant. And because of that, the wife ended up taking her own life… along with her nine-year-old son.”
Choi Sangwoo grabbed the bottle of fine wine from the table and poured it over Mira’s head. Her long hair clung to her face, darkened and sticky red, soaking her white uniform. “I was shocked,” he sneered, “when I happened to visit this place for a business dinner and saw you working here. I suppose after that old man Han died, you and your mother were thrown out, weren’t you? That explains why you suddenly dropped out halfway through junior year—even forced to change to your mother’s surname. How pitiful.”
He crouched down to meet her eye to eye, studying her soaked, trembling form with cruel satisfaction. “Justice served,” he hissed. “In the end, the two wretched whores of your family finally got what they deserved.”
No one, not even the other servers, dared intervene with the tycoon. Nobody wanted to earn his enmity. One of the former classmates rose and stepped toward Sangwoo, hesitantly pleading, “Hey, we… we shouldn’t be doing this here. We all know you’ve never liked Han Mira, but this is going too far. Isn’t this supposed to be a pleasant reunion?”
Choi Sangwoo gave a cold laugh. He stood and looked down at Mira as if she were a pile of garbage. “This is the main event of tonight’s reunion. We’re finally doing what should have been done years ago! Let me ask you all one thing: of everyone present here, is there anyone who was never compared to Han Mira by their family?”
The room fell silent. Unpleasant memories from their school days rushed back at Sangwoo’s provocation. Crumpled report cards, scolding, beatings, meals eaten with tears—being constantly measured against a lowly illegitimate child had left scars on many who sat there tonight.
“I’ll never forget the time my father threw a flower vase at my face because I only ranked third on the final exam.” Sangwoo swept his bangs aside, revealing a faint scar running from his brow to his temple where ceramic had once cut him. “He called me useless. Even that filthy brat could come first, but I couldn’t. I was burning with rage. I wished a mongrel like her would just disappear from the world—disgustingly proud, showing up at school with her bag. But now the day has come at last. We can finally boot that whore down to her place!”
Choi Sangwoo laughed with glee like a madman. The others no longer attempted to stop him, they began to glare at the pink one kneeling on the floor with eyes full of hatred. Some even took Sangwoo’s lead and started to hurl cruelty—one imitated him and flung a half-full glass of wine onto her. The innocent reunion quickly degraded into a despicable revenge spectacle staged by privileged children.
Sangwoo’s laughter snapped Rumi out of the dizzying headache. She came suddenly to her senses and quickly scanned the room to grasp what was happening. What struck her was Mira’s gaunt figure, soaked in red wine and still forced to kneel on the cold tiles. Unable to tolerate this humiliation taking place in her own restaurant, she bellowed,
“Choi Sangwoo!”
The man turned to face Rumi who was raging. He showed no sign of fear at her tone—if anything, his smile widened, and he spread his arms to tell her to come closer. “Don’t worry, Princess Ryu. I certainly haven’t forgotten you. We all know you were among the ones who hated Han Mira the most, right?”
What he said wasn’t entirely false. Back in school, Ryu Rumi and Han Mira had been bitter rivals—always competing for top rank in the year. Rumi was also the leader of the group who always caused trouble for Han Mira. It was never Rumi's intention to bully Mira, but she had certainly allowed her underlings to exploit her reputation to pull pranks.
Rumi had hated Mira to the point that the girl’s mere breath could make Rumi turn and glare. Han Mira was a lingering ghost that haunted her mind for years—so much so that Rumi once wondered whether the girl had cast some charm on her, because she could never forget that color of pink. Though Rumi didn’t like Han Mira, she would never have wanted to humiliate her to this extent.
She fixed Sangwoo with a warning stare, but it was clear he did not care. In his eyes, Ryu Rumi, even now as CEO of the Sunlight company, was still the same little princess easily led since school days.
“Princess, surely you remember the time Han Mira slapped you so hard you could feel it, right? This is the perfect chance to repay that debt!” he crowed, then turned back to Mira, his tone light as if teasing a friend. “Now, I guess we should call you Kang Mira? Come on, Kang—lick Miss Ryu’s heels. If you make them shine, I’ll toss you a few tips.”
Choi Sangwoo’s shamelessness finally made Rumi's blood boil. He wasn’t just making a scene in her restaurant and wasting her evening with this meaningless party—he was treating her presence like nothing and trampling on a former classmate as if human beings were trash.
Before she decided to kick that vile man and his entourage out of her restaurant, Rumi’s gaze fell on Mira, who until now had not uttered a single word. A pitiable figure, forced to kneel on the cold tiles in humiliating submission. This was no longer the proud, aloof Han Mira whom no one dared touch. Wine had stained her hair and clothes from head to toe. She seemed so fearful that her whole body trembled and her head hung low, unable to look up.
No. That was wrong.
Rumi’s eyes widened in surprise. She had been terribly mistaken.
Mira was not afraid—she was not trembling. Her bowed head was a mask, hiding eyes as sharp as blades, fixed unblinkingly on Choi Sangwoo at his side. Those eyes were cold and murky as if bottomless, yet Rumi could see the smallest embers flickering in their depths. As if a drop more fuel would set them blazing and reduce this lavish palace to ash. Mira’s body trembled as she restrained her fury, forcing herself not to grab the nearest expensive bottle—surely worth half a year of her wages—and smash it over Choi Sangwoo’s head until the glass shattered into a thousand shards. She bit down so hard on her lower lip that blood spattered, holding back a torrent of venomous curses.
Mira had never changed. She was still the Han Mira Rumi had known years ago, no matter the surname or social standing she now bore.
The woman struggling on the tile floor, no matter how filthy she was, remained the pink-haired girl Rumi had always watched from the corner of her eye. The one who slapped her for the first time and called her pathetic. The one Ryu Rumi could never expel from her mind even after embracing so many beauties.
Something coiled in Rumi’s chest. It cried out what she had been trying to prove for more than a decade: I am not pathetic.
Rumi stepped forward toward where Mira knelt. Just as Sangwoo was delighting in what he took for her joining him, Rumi shoved him hard aside. Mira’s eyes shifted to the CEO, alert like a wounded wolf. Contrary to what everyone assumed, Rumi knelt down on the hard tile, facing Mira, even though her dress might be soaked by the wine spreading on the floor.
Rumi took out a handkerchief and gently wiped her former classmate’s face. Rumi looked at her with a serious, businesslike expression—the look of someone sizing up a partner across a meeting table. “Can you stand?” she asked tersely, but Mira was too stunned to answer.
Rumi took the pink-haired server’s hand and hauled her to her feet.
“First, you are in my restaurant—my hotel building, yet you dare to create a disturbance on my premises,” Rumi said, turning slowly and sweeping her gaze across their former classmates who were visibly trembling. Her sharp eyes came to rest on Choi Sangwoo. “Second, my staff, even if they are only janitorial workers, are gems selected and polished by Sunlight itself. What right do any of you have to humiliate my people?” Each word from the Sunlight CEO fell like a verdict from a tribunal, as if she could strip a man’s soul from his shell as easily as peeling a chestnut.
Only then did Choi Sangwoo realize the seriousness of what he had unleashed. Seeing Rumi utterly earnest, his smile vanished. His knees prickled with the sudden urge to drop to the floor before her.
“Third, I expect you to come up with a convincing excuse when the police summon you to the station tomorrow on my complaint for disturbing the peace. And trust me—they won't go easy on you just because of the money you wave in front of them.”
Before dragging Mira away, Rumi called for the manager and instructed him to summon security at once to remove the whole group of privileged guests. From now on, each of their names would be blacklisted by Sunlight Business. The authoritative thud of high heels faded as Ryu Rumi stepped into the elevator. She didn’t even bother to look back, not a single sideways glance, still gripping Kang Mira’s thin arm through the fabric of her uniform. The elevator doors closed as if sealing two separate worlds apart—leaving behind the stunned silence of the reunion.
No sound broke the hush inside the elevator. Rumi stood at the right corner, Mira at the left. Neither spoke nor looked at the other. Rumi stole a sideways glance and saw the girl staring fixedly at the floor, as if she dared not look toward her CEO. The proud, blazing face full of hate from before had vanished. At least Mira was still as beautiful as Rumi remembered—perhaps too striking for a job as a server. That face deserved to be on giant billboards across the skyline rather than over a wait-staff apron.
“Thank you so much, Ms. Ryu. If you hadn’t been there, they might have driven me to death,” Mira said with a respectful, low bow, showing the deference of a careful, small employee.
If not for me, she might have smashed those bottles over their heads herself, Rumi thought, but she kept the thought to herself.
“It’s all right. Protecting my staff is part of my duty as their boss,” Rumi replied.
Mira kept her head bowed in silent gratitude, though her eyes occasionally flicked upward, stealing curious glances at Rumi. Rumi was really not used to being treated with such humble courtesy by Han Mira. Even after a decade, Rumi could still remember vividly how those beautiful eyes used to narrow into half whenever they landed on her—it was an expression of contempt when looking at a child who had been spoiled by her parents.
Han Mira, her rival from their school days, once the young lady who lived in the golden castle of the Han family, was now a woman cast out with her mother, reduced to taking up menial work like this.
Rumi genuinely felt a flicker of pity for her.
The elevator doors slid open, returning the two women to solid ground. Rumi stepped out first, but Mira hesitated, her soaked uniform dripping red-stained wine onto the elevator floor with soft plop, plop sounds. It seemed she didn’t want to step outside, perhaps afraid the manager would scold her for staining the lobby carpet.
“It’s all right,” Rumi said. “I’ll talk to the front desk manager. Go change and head home for the day. I’ll make sure you’re paid in full for this shift—and compensated for the damage as well.”
The faint spark in Mira’s eyes bloomed brighter. She lifted her head, her wide eyes glimmering in astonishment, pupils dilating noticeably. Perhaps Rumi had just succeeded in earning a few points as a righteous, honorable superior in the eyes of this pink-haired woman.
She stepped out of the elevator, and before running toward the changing room, she didn’t forget to bow deeply one last time to her boss.
Rumi didn’t leave right away. She lingered for a while, her eyes following the silhouette of her former classmate. If she hadn’t just witnessed the murderous glint in Mira’s eyes minutes ago, the pink-haired server could have passed for any other hotel employee—polite, composed, harmless even.
Rumi let out a quiet sigh.
Life was truly fickle, filled with things one could never foresee.
She called her driver to come pick her up, while simultaneously drafting an email to her secretary: a formal complaint about the disturbance that occurred tonight.
Every one of those troublemakers would be blacklisted, banned from using any of Sunlight’s services or products ever again.
As for Choi Sangwoo, she ordered a review of all contracts between Sunlight and his family’s nightclub chain. All of them would be unilaterally terminated on the grounds of violating the business ethics clause. She was quite certain his parents would be very interested to hear why Sunlight had to cut ties with their family over a single foolish act of their son.
Only then did Rumi realize that her left hand was still gripping the handkerchief she’d used to wipe Mira’s face. A large part of it was soaked through with wine.
That piece of fabric had brushed against those rose pink strands, grazed the smooth skin of her face, and absorbed the wine droplets clinging to her long lashes.
Rumi lifted it gently to her nose. The scent of fine wine and her own perfume mingled together—there shouldn’t have been anything else there. And yet, she inhaled again, as if stubbornly searching for something nameless in that boundless sea of fragrance.
What was she even looking for?
Hospitals always had a certain smell—one that seemed almost identical no matter where you went.
It was the scent clinging to white lab coats, tinged with medicine and the faint trace of ink. It was the smell rising from sheets and pillowcases steeped in disinfectant and antiseptic. The scent of a hospital was clean, yet sharp. It stung faintly at the top of the nose.
Some people found that smell unpleasant, but for Mira, it brought her peace. Only when resting her head beside her mother’s frail hand could she truly fall asleep, leaving behind all the noise and grime of the outside world. The steady beep… beep… of the heart monitor replaced a lullaby, soothing the taut nerves within her.
On the bed lay a woman with short, curly hair, sleeping soundly. Poverty had etched itself deep into her skin. Fatigue made her look older than her years. And yet, one thing remained undeniable—the graceful features on her face still shone brightly no matter how old she was, and that beauty had been passed down to her daughter.
Mira held onto her mother’s almost skeletal hand tightly. Her hand was still cold no matter how much Mira tried to warm it up. The thought terrified her, that if she loosened her grip even for a moment, her mother might slip away forever.
The door swung open. A nurse poked her head in and said, “Ms Kang Mira, the doctor would like to speak with you in his office about some important matters.”
It took all of Mira’s strength to gently pry her fingers free from her mother’s hand and follow the nurse down the hall.
The doctor’s office was spotless, carrying the same faint scent of disinfectant that always lingered there whenever Mira came. Across from her, the physician in charge of her mother spoke in an even, almost pitying tone.
“We can’t delay your mother’s condition any longer. The surgery has to be done within this week. Ms. Kang, are you still determined to go through with it?”
“We’ll go through with it,” Mira replied firmly without the slightest hesitation. “I want to see my mother well again.”
The doctor fell silent for a moment, his eyes resting on the woman sitting before him, wearing a faded, worn-out jacket that had clearly seen better days. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh. “Ms. Kang,” he began softly, “I know I shouldn’t say this to a patient’s family, but I don’t think you have the financial means to cover the operation.”
Before Mira could speak, he continued,
“A mechanical heart valve replacement—including the surgery, the valve itself, hospital bed, medication, and necessary examinations—will cost nearly 30 million won. That’s not counting post-operative expenses: follow-ups, long-term prescriptions, routine tests, or possible re-admissions if complications arise. Your mother’s insurance has expired. You’ll need to pay everything out of pocket.
Are you certain you can afford that?”
“Do you think I have any other choice?”
She didn’t need the doctor to remind her—the burden had been gnawing at her mind for over a month. But what choice did she have? Mira would never allow her mother to die in pain like this.
“Please think carefully. To proceed, you’ll need to make an advance payment of 20 million won. If you’re determined to save your mother, do it soon. The deadline is this week.”
Mira’s fists clenched tighter with every word he said. After a brief bow and a quiet, “Thank you, doctor,” she turned and walked out of the office.
Mira didn’t go back to her mother’s room right away. She sank down into one of the waiting chairs and rubbed at the tense spot between her brows. All the burdens in the world seemed to settle on the thin shoulders of her, giving her no moment’s rest. She thought of her mother, the beautiful woman lying unconscious on the hospital bed, the same woman who had seduced a wealthy businessman while his wife was pregnant, and then had given birth to a mistake that was Mira herself.
For some reason, the scene of her being humiliated at the restaurant kept replaying in her head. Those rich folks had sneered at her origins, but she knew they weren’t acting out of any noble sense of morality—they just wanted to find a suitable target to unleash their violent nature, wrapping it in a layer of justice. To be honest, Mira had been surprised to find the reunion scheduled during her shift. She tried to tell herself it was a coincidence, ten years had passed—surely they wouldn’t recognize her. But it had been a trap from the start.
Even now, no matter how many times she bathed, Mira could still smell the sharp tang of red wine lingering on her hair and skin.
She almost felt quite impressed with how much Choi Sangwoo was willing to spend to book such a lavish restaurant just to get revenge on her. If anything had changed in Mira over the last decade, it was a hard-earned patience. If this had happened years ago, she would certainly have fought back to the end. But now she couldn’t.
Mira understood all too well that this world ran on money. If she had resisted or cursed them back, they would have found a way to throw her in jail on the spot, or worse, get rid of her. Who would care about the life or death of a poor waitress who had to work seven jobs in a day just to pay her mother’s hospital bills?
Then, she thought of her boss. Ryu Rumi—the new CEO of the Sunlight Group, an empire so wealthy it could buy the sky—had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
Her path had always been lined with roses and red carpets. Back in school, Ryu wasn’t much different from Choi Sangwoo and his clique: arrogant, childish, used to getting whatever she wanted. It had always seemed like she saw Mira as some sort of rival, even though Mira herself had no interest in competing with her. All Mira had ever tried to do back then was to earn her mother a little more respect in that grand mansion where the man had brought the two of them to live.
When she saw Ryu at the class reunion, even sitting right next to Sangwoo, Mira had assumed she’d be just like the rest of them. She’d expected Ryu to throw wine in her face, to make her lick her heels. But she didn’t. Ryu Rumi had gently wiped Mira’s face, helped her up without caring about her soaked clothes, and then raised her voice to threaten those wretched people who had caused a scene in her own restaurant.
Ryu Rumi was stunning, capable, and genuinely caring—the kind of boss who truly cared about her employees.
Maybe, Mira thought, the princess from those days had really become a queen. People could change, after all.
But then, the cruel weight of reality came crashing down on her once more. The image of her mother, growing frailer day by day—collapsing on the floor the moment Mira opened the door. Her skeletal body now wrapped in tubes and wires—haunted her mind. Gone was the graceful woman who had once driven men to ruin with her beauty.
The number 30 million won flashed in Mira’s mind like a flickering LED sign, making even her usually steady shoulders sag in defeat. She had sounded confident in front of the doctor, but in truth, she had no idea where she could possibly find that much money in such a short time. And deep down, she knew the cost would not stop at thirty.
Mira’s savings were long gone, all spent on her mother’s endless heart treatments. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to remind her mother to renew her health insurance. No bank would ever lend her such a huge amount, not to an odd-job worker with a meager income. Charity funds might be an option, but they’d take weeks to verify her situation. Her mother didn’t have weeks. Borrowing from loan sharks would be nothing short of digging her own grave. And she had no friends rich enough to borrow from.
Mira brushed her hair aside and reached into her collar to pull out an old necklace she’d kept hidden. It wasn’t even a real necklace, just two soda can tabs glued together into a heart shape, clumsily painted red, hanging from a thin silver chain. It wasn’t worth a handful of spare change—it was more like a child's clumsy work during the craft class.
Yet the way Mira held it—so carefully, so reverently—made it clear how precious it was to her. Still, the look in her eyes wasn’t one of affection or warmth. It was the look of fear, of regret, and of shame rising like a dark tide.
Once upon a time, there was a story.
The mermaid princess married the prince she loved, and together they had a baby boy. But the nightmare began when the prince fell under the spell of a wicked witch. Then, the prince and the witch had a daughter together. The sight of that little girl broke the mermaid princess’s heart so deeply that she took her son in her arms and vanished into sea foam, returning to her home beneath the deep ocean.
“Justice served. In the end, the two wretched whores of your family finally got what they deserved.”
No matter how much she hated Choi Sangwoo, she couldn’t deny it—what he said wasn’t wrong.
Yes, this was karma. The inevitable retribution that she and her mother were destined to bear.
Karma for her mother, who had driven a heartbroken wife to her death.
And karma for herself—for being born into this world.
Rumi's mood has been much better lately. She smiled at her employees more often, slept better, and even grew less picky about food.
Most importantly, the haunting memories of Mira from her school days no longer clung to her. It had been a long time since that voice last echoed suddenly in her head while she was working. Rumi felt remarkably confident and full of life.
Even sessions with her therapist hadn’t been able to completely rid her of those obsessions—yet somehow, after just a single day of seeing Mira again, she had finally been able to sleep soundly. Rumi didn’t really understand why the fear had vanished so abruptly, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that her mind felt light and peaceful again.
But if life always went the way we wanted, it wouldn’t be called life in the first place.
The CEO turned into the stairwell to answer a call from her mother, not wanting the staff to see her talking to her mothers on the phone.
It wasn’t that Rumi was ashamed of her mothers—far from it. They were the most wonderful people in the world, and she couldn’t have been prouder to be their daughter. It’s just that… if the call came from maman Céline, it usually meant business—that was fine. But if it was from mom Mi Yeong, then it almost always turned into some random, ridiculous topic that would have her employees trying hard not to giggle whenever they overheard her replies. And this time, of course, it was none other than Ryu Mi Yeong calling…
“I'm listening, mom.”
"Sweetheart, what’s this I heard about you unilaterally ending the partnership with the Choi family’s business and reclaiming their premises?"
"That spoiled son of theirs caused a scene in my restaurant and humiliated one of my female employees. If that man inherits their company someday, it’ll all go down the drain anyway. Sunlight doesn’t need to get involved with someone like that."
"Hmm..."
Rumi could easily imagine her mother pursing her lips on the other end of the line. It was hard to believe that this childish woman was the same young genius who had turned the Ryu family and the Sunlight name from a mid-range hotel chain inherited from her grandfather into an empire known across Asia.
"So... Was that employee girl pretty?"
It took Rumi a few seconds to process what her mother had just said.
"Wh... What...?"
"The waitress who made you blow up in the middle of your own restaurant, blacklist all your old classmates, and even cut ties with a promising business like the Chois. Sounds like a hero saving a damsel in distress to me. She must’ve been really pretty."
There it was—the kind of random, absurd topic her mother loved dragging her into.
"Mom, that’s something any boss would’ve done to protect their employee’s rights. Choi Sangwoo publicly damaged Sunlight’s reputation. According to the business ethics clause in our contract, we’re fully entitled to end the partnership unilaterally. I would never act on impulse when it comes to work."
"So you’re not denying that the girl’s pretty?"
Rumi rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.
"Mom..."
Suddenly, a few strange noises came from the other end of the line, as if her mother’s phone had just been snatched. Rumi could faintly hear phrases like "honey" and "I just want her to relax a bit." The line went silent for a moment, then a firm, serious female voice spoke through the phone.
“Rumi?”
Rumi knew who it would be even before she heard the voice. "C’est moi, maman."
Her second mother, Celine, had arrived to rescue her from Mi Yeong’s embarrassing little antics.
"Rumi, don’t worry about your mom’s little jokes. I swear, that woman will never grow up."
Rumi could hear her other mother’s voice through the phone, "And yet you’ve lived with me for over 30 years." And she could almost picture maman’s gaze—stern but not without indulgence. The two women were always like that, their personalities completely opposite, yet not a single day went by that Rumi didn’t see them clinging to each other like newlyweds. She felt proud, and loved both her mothers deeply.
"In short, what I want to tell you is that every choice in life must be carefully considered. In your hands now lie the youth and tears of both your mom and me. One wrong step, and everything could collapse in an instant. Remember that, Rumi."
Rumi’s mood calmed considerably. Of the two, Celine was always the one who worried about her the most. Mi Yeong wanted Rumi to interact with the outside world as much as possible, while Celine tended to shelter her a bit too much. She knew her maman cared for her, which explained her behavior, but sometimes it made Rumi feel as though she had no trust in her.
"Yes, maman..."
The faint sounds of a conversation coming from behind the stairwell door reached the young CEO’s ears. Normally, employees often gathered there to gossip, so Rumi wouldn’t have paid any attention—until she caught her own name mentioned among the chatter.
"Je suis un peu occupée, je te laisse. Au revoir, maman."
After saying goodbye to her mothers, Rumi hung up. She tiptoed toward the emergency exit and carefully pushed the door open to see who was talking there. Eavesdropping on employees' personal conversations was extremely unprofessional—but something about this one gave her a bad feeling. And sometimes, intuition was what saved your life in this line of work.
"That brat thinks she’s all that, huh? She’s young enough to be my daughter!"
Well, take a guess who it was—cigarette between his fingers with a face so red with anger. None other than Manager Kim, the man she had reprimanded just a few days ago for failing to meet her expectations.
"Mr. Kim, I don’t think you should say that. She’s still our boss, after all..."
The voice belonged to Deputy Head of Finance, Park.
"I made one tiny mistake and she went off on me! Don’t forget I’ve been in this group longer than she has! She’s nothing but a pretty vase sitting in that chair thanks to her family name. Without her mommies backing her up, she’s just another spoiled brat. Let’s see how long before she ruins this whole damn company!"
Manager Kim took a deep drag on his cigarette, unaware that his CEO’s eyes—sharp and icy as blades—were now cold enough to draw blood.
Whatever else he said, Rumi didn’t care. She wasn’t about to lower herself to argue with a man like that. She turned on her heel and strode back toward her office. She still had the professional strides of a model on the red carpet, but the sound of her heels was heavy—each step striking the floor as if to pierce right through it.
She met the secretary standing right in front of the office door. Rumi’s voice was even, but still gloomy and scary beyond description.
"Schedule a meeting as soon as possible—preferably within this week. Issue an official notice demoting Manager Kim to a finance officer. Poor performance, and now slander against his superior. We’ll use the stairwell security footage as evidence. As for Deputy Park, consider promoting him to replace Kim—but make sure to warn him not to follow his predecessor’s path."
The secretary didn’t ask a single question. She just nodded quickly and went off to carry out her orders.
Standing in her own office, Ryu Rumi found that even the power radiating from the vast space with its high glass walls opening onto a sky of clear blue couldn’t steady her mind. The veins on her temple pulsed visibly—her head throbbed with sharp, stabbing pain. Once again, her thoughts betrayed her, flashing back to the image of a pink-haired thirteen-year-old girl, her low voice echoing each word with cruel precision, “You’re pathetic.”
The headache wouldn’t stop.
It was forcing her to relive that moment—the sting, the heat spreading across her cheek after that slap.
No matter how hard she tried, the image of that thirteen-year-old Mira refused to let her go. It kept returning, pounding inside her skull, whispering over and over again that she was nothing but a pitiful little thing.
The dizziness grew so unbearable that Rumi slammed her hands down and scattered the stack of documents across the floor. Her jaw clenched tight, her teeth grinding as if she could destroy something—anything—to extinguish the fire raging within her.
She wasn’t like Choi Sangwoo. She wasn’t some decorative doll living off her parents’ name. She would make every last person who ever looked down on her choke on their defeat.
She would prove to them all—Ryu Rumi was no helpless princess who couldn’t stand on her own two feet.
That evening, Rumi wasn’t in the mood to go home.
She simply told her driver to keep driving around the city—from the bright main avenues to the quieter residential streets. The young CEO rested her chin on one hand, her eyes drifting aimlessly toward whatever passed by. The only light reflected in those eyes came from the flickering yellow streetlamps outside the car window.
No matter how flawless her makeup was, it couldn’t hide the exhaustion weighing down her face.
After all, she wasn’t even thirty and had already been in such a position—sounded a bit too ambitious. But mom Mi Yeong had carried her at a not-so-young age, and both her mothers had entrusted Rumi with the company’s future. She would never betray that trust.
When the car turned onto a quieter street, two familiar silhouettes suddenly caught her eye, pulling her out of her daze.
From afar, they looked like a couple. The man had magenta-colored hair and a broad, muscular frame. He had left the top three buttons of his shirt undone, proudly showing off his chest. The woman beside him had long hair with a rosy color cascading down her shoulders, her worn-out jacket hanging loosely around her frame. She looked like she didn’t like being too close to the man.
Of course, Rumi knew who they were. The man was Jeong A-Bin, the son of one of the hotel’s restaurant managers—and because of those muscles (which were probably the only remarkable thing about him), everyone jokingly called him Abby.
And the woman being bothered by him was none other than Han— or rather, Kang Mira now.
“Stop the car!” Rumi’s sudden command made the driver hit the brakes hard.
Her sleek black limousine halted just a short distance away from where the two were walking—close enough for her to see them clearly and even overhear snatches of their conversation. They seemed too absorbed in their argument to notice the luxury vehicle parked nearby.
“I told you already, Abby! I have to go to the hospital to take care of my mother now. I don’t have time for a late-night date with you!”
Mira didn’t even bother to turn her head to look at the muscular man still trying to cling to her. Her tone was clearly sharp and openly annoyed.
“Oh, come on, sugarcube. After everything I’ve done for you, can’t you give me a little something in return?”
Abby grabbed Mira’s slender wrist and easily spun her around to face him. “Or did you forget who got you that server job at Sunlight Restaurant, huh?”
Rumi had to admit that Abby was right. Though it was only a waitress position, Sunlight Restaurant, being under the Sunlight Group, always had very strict recruitment standards. In exchange, its salary and employee treatment were among the best. For someone without even a high school diploma and who had never gone through any vocational training, it was nearly impossible to get hired. But if you happened to be personally recommended by the manager’s son… well, that was another story.
Abby’s expression now was the very definition of sleazy arrogance. His smug face made Mira want nothing more than to punch it. She forced herself to suppress the rising anger, her tone softening.
“About that… I really am grateful to you. But right now, I have to get to the hospital. If you want to hang out, maybe you can wait until my shift ends tomorrow.”
Abby finally loosened his grip. Just as Mira was about to hurry away, something seemed to flicker in her eyes—like a sudden realization. She froze for a moment before slowly turning back to face the tall man beside her.
After a long pause of consideration, she seemed to struggle to get the words out. “Abby, can you lend me some money?”
Both Abby’s and Rumi’s eyebrows rose at the same time.
“How much do you need?” Abby asked.
“30 million won. You’re the only person I can shamelessly ask right now.”
“I’m guessing it’s for your mom’s hospital bills? I heard she’s got a congenital heart condition, right?”
Rumi was still listening carefully from behind the car window. Her fingers gently brushed her chin as she processed the new information about Mira’s situation. Combining this with what Choi Sangwoo had mentioned at the previous party, the picture became clearer: a woman who once served as a mistress to a married tycoon. After his sudden death, she and her daughter were kicked out, forced to live in poverty. That was likely the reason Mira had abruptly dropped out in the middle of her eleventh grade. And now, karma had finally come full circle—her mother, plagued by illness and regret, was paying the price for her sins, while her only daughter was forced to bear the same burden.
It all sounded like the ending of a novel where the villain finally met her bitter fate before the eyes of heaven…
“30 million isn’t a small amount. Are you sure you’ll be able to pay me back?”
“I don’t know how,” Mira said quietly, “but I’ll find a way.”
Abby pursed his lips, openly appraising Mira from head to toe. Then, as if struck by an idea, he grinned—and it was not a pleasant smile.
“Mira, have you ever slept with a man before?”
Mira frowned, her patience clearly thinning. “What does that have to do with what we’re talking about?”
“Judging by your attitude, I’m guessing you haven’t,” he chuckled.
“I wouldn't dare lend you money. You’re dirt poor—when will you ever be able to pay me back principal and interest? But…” He dragged the last word out and, with no shame at all, pulled her slender body tightly against his. “I have a way to give you the entire sum.”
His whisper in her ear was dangerous and unmistakable. Mira was no fool—she understood exactly what he meant.
“15 million won to be your first man. How’s that sound?”
Mira froze at Abby’s offer. Not because of what he demanded, but because of the amount. 15 million won—roughly 11 thousand US dollars—tossed away like trash for a single night of pleasure? Even when she’d been the Han family’s lady, Mira had never spent extravagantly like that. How could she still be surprised at the excesses of these rich boys?
Half of her felt overwhelming disgust—she wanted to shove him away immediately. The other half, with all her contempt for herself, realized she was hesitating…
15 million. It was nearly the deposit for her mother’s operation. It was an amount she could earn only by working herself to the bone, skipping food and comfort for half a year. 15 million… far too much to pay for a single night with a normal escort.
Mira bit down hard on her tongue. She shoved Abby away, her eyes sharp enough to cut like blades. She had no intention of wasting another second on this scum and turned to leave—but the bastard had no plans to let her go. He grabbed her wrist again, squeezing so hard that Mira winced in pain.
“Come on now, Kang,” he sneered. “This isn’t the time to act all high and pure. You’re really going to let your mother rot away in that hospital bed? Don’t forget—she doesn’t have much time left.”
The mockery in his voice at the end made Mira’s blood boil, but the brutal truth about her mother’s condition struck even harder than his grip. She stared at the place where his fingers dug into her skin, then slowly lifted her gaze to that smug face of Jeong A-Bin. Up, then down again—until her lips began to tremble, her hands shook, and she could no longer meet his eyes.
Abby’s grin only widened. “Don’t worry, I’m a generous man. If you manage to please me, I’ll even pay you extra.”
By now, Rumi could no longer stay seated inside the car—not when Mira was starting to waver.
It enraged her. A blazing fire roared to life behind the calm mask of the young CEO’s eyes, impossible to extinguish.
A sharp slam of a car door tore through the quiet street, drawing both their attention at once. Mira’s eyes widened in shock, staring at her boss who had just stepped out of the black limousine—completely unable to understand why on earth she was here.
Abby looked just as stunned, though he quickly recovered his usual smug composure, still unaware of the disaster about to befall him.
“Well, well. Long time no see, Rumi. What brings the wind to blow you here tonight?”
But Rumi didn’t even spare him a glance. Her eyes were fixed on the large hand still gripping Mira’s wrist—a gaze so cold and sharp it could’ve severed that hand into pieces.
“How much?” she asked, turning to Mira. “How much did he say he’d pay you?”
Mira couldn’t even begin to process what was happening. First, her manager’s son had cornered her on the street, offering money to sleep with her. Now, her CEO had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, asking a question that made no sense at all.
Thankfully, Abby finally released her wrist. He shoved both hands into his pockets with nonchalance, looking down at Rumi as if she were one of his drinking buddies.
“15 million. I’m never stingy when it comes to my women.”
Rumi rolled her eyes, the disgust clear on her face. She reached into her purse, took out a checkbook and a fountain pen, biting off the pen cap (Mira and Abby swore they were not thinking it seductive).
Rumi swiftly wrote something on the check, finishing it with a graceful signature before tearing it out and holding it out toward the pink-haired woman.
Mira almost gasped at the number written on it.
“50 million won. I’m buying her night for 50 million.”
The way Abby’s arrogant expression quickly darkened was definitely the funniest farce Rumi had ever witnessed in her life.
“You! Who—who gave you the right to do that!? She was mine first!”
“Every transaction is an auction. You don’t get a lucrative deal unless you’re willing to pay the right price from the start.”
Abby’s face turned as red as a tomato, his once-handsome charm completely gone. His muscles were shaking comically.
“Who the hell do you think you are, Ryu? This isn’t even your business! Stay out of it!”
“Actually, that’s my line,” Rumi shot back, her voice carrying the same steel she used at negotiation tables. “I’m the CEO of Sunlight Group—this entire empire belongs to me. You, Jeong A-bin, are the son of one of my restaurant managers. Maybe you thought we were equals because we’re the same age, but forget about that starting from this moment. Now, leave this girl alone—or I’ll be having a serious talk with your father.”
Every word from Rumi left Abby speechless. He stood there scowling for a few seconds before cursing under his breath and storming off, not without shooting Rumi several sharp glares over his shoulder.
Typical spoiled brat, Rumi thought. She’d definitely be having a word with his father later.
At that moment, Mira slammed the check against Rumi's chest, almost causing it to fall to the ground if the leader hadn't quickly caught it.
Without saying a word, the waitress straightened her clothes and walked away, not even sparing her boss a final glance.
“Hey, I just helped you. Not even a word of thanks?”
Mira shot her a sharp glare. “Helped me?” Her voice was full of sarcasm, as though the line between high-ranking executive and lowly employee no longer mattered. “By turning me into a bargaining chip passed around between you rich people? Sure, thanks a lot.”
Rumi frowned at the woman’s biting tone.
“I heard you’re desperate for money. And yet you treat a 50 million won check like a dry leaf on the street?”
“That’s because I know money doesn’t grow on trees, and no one in this world ever gives anything for free,” Mira shot back. “You really think I’d buy into your little act and beg you for help? Dream on. I know you’re not generous enough to throw money around just for your old classmates. Now, with all the respect I have left, please—go back to your golden castle, Your Highness.”
Mira’s defiance flipped a switch somewhere deep inside Rumi.
Indeed, after all those years, this woman hadn’t changed one bit.
The name was different, the money was gone, the status no longer hers—and yet, standing before her, Rumi still couldn’t help but feel like that same worthless Barbie doll she’d once been.
Oh, how she hated the way that woman looked at her.
She couldn’t stand the feeling of always being looked down on, no matter how wide the gap between their statuses had grown.
She hated how thoughts of her made her temples throb like they were being pricked by needles.
She hated that, even after a whole decade, she still couldn’t erase Han Mira’s shadow from her mind.
“Who said I’d give it to you for free?” Rumi grabbed Mira’s arm and spun her around, forcing the other woman to look straight into her eyes.
“This isn’t some joke,” she said, her voice low and sharp. “This is a transaction.”
The CEO pressed the still-wet check hard against the woman’s chest.
“Han— no, Kang Mira. I’m offering to buy one night of yours for 50 million won.”