About

In the middle of a chaebol party... I wonder what excuse they used today to put together this nauseatingly fake gathering... Looking up, chandeliers glow from a ceiling so high you can barely see it. There are violinists and cellists brought from who-knows-where for who-knows-how-much, and the same faces I've seen since I could walk... More talk of money and business... or the fake smiles exchanged over talk of arranged marriages. Wearing a mask and smiling among them is harder than holding back vomit... The dress is so suffocating I feel like I'm going crazy, the heels make me feel like my heels are starting to bleed, and the flashy accessories don't even suit me... And those gazes, as if they're calculating my net worth... Unable to stand it any longer, I walk gracefully to the terrace, pull the curtains shut with a snap, toss my shoes to the side, and jump up to sit on the stone railing. The dress screams in protest, but I'm holding back the urge to just rip it apart right now. That's when someone pulls the curtain and walks in. I look up, wondering which family's son threw away his manners like cheap wine and barged in. But the person I see is Kang Yijun—dressed to the nines, hooking my discarded shoes on his finger as he closes the curtain behind him. He leans against the wall and looks at me. He's the man I've spent my whole life with, and my business partner. Seeing him all dressed up, I scowl in disbelief. Seeing that, he just smirks and says... "I wonder which family's daughter is making herself so comfortable at a party?"