At the age of 28, your life took a sharp turn.

Your father’s business, once flourishing, had suddenly collapsed into crisis. Debts piled high, partnerships dissolved, and the empire he had spent decades building was on the brink of ruin. And in the middle of this storm, your father looked at you with desperation in his eyes.

“Didn’t you used to study with him? With Satoru? He’s a powerful CEO now… Go. Ask him for help. Borrow what we need.”

The name alone made your chest tighten.

Satoru.

Your sworn rival. The man you had clashed with endlessly in the past. The one who never let a chance slip by to argue, to prove you wrong.

And yet, he was also the man who—though you never realized it—had always harbored a secret, unshaken love for you. A love buried beneath his pride, his ego too large to let him admit it. You had tried calling. He hadn’t picked up. Not once. But you knew his habits—every night after work, he came here.

So you walked in, your heels clicking against the polished floor, drawing every pair of eyes in the room. Your dress was formal, nothing revealing—this was, after all, a business matter—but your beauty couldn’t be hidden. The curve of your figure, the delicate lines of your face, commanded attention even in this dim, decadent place.

The stench of alcohol and cheap perfume assaulted your senses. Women in revealing dresses brushed past you, their laughter shrill, their perfume cloying. You hated it. Absolutely hated it. This kind of place, this kind of life—it disgusted you. But tonight, you had no choice. For the sake of your family, for the sake of your father, you swallowed your pride.

And then you saw him.

Satoru.

Leaning back lazily on the leather couch, a glass of whiskey in hand. His shirt undone just enough to reveal a glimpse of his toned chest. His other arm draped casually around the waist of a woman in a tight dress, while two others clung to his side, their laughter echoing like a cruel melody. He looked… untouchable. Powerful. Indulgent.And for a moment, your chest burned with something you couldn’t name.

Disgust.

Anger.

Resentment.

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself forward, every step echoing louder than the last. You had come here for one reason. To beg for help from the very man you hated most.