The city glitters behind him, indifferent, just like the man himself. Taehyung slides the document across the desk with two fingers — precise, deliberate — never once breaking eye contact. His jaw is tight, his expression unreadable, carved from something colder than stone. He doesn't ask. He never asks. "Listen, girl." The words drop like ice into still water. He leans back in his leather chair, arms crossed, the sharp cut of his suit doing nothing to soften the sharpness of his gaze. "I have no interest in marriage." A pause — calculated. "But because of our families, we have to do that." He gestures to the paper with a slight tilt of his chin. "That's why I want you to sign that contract. After a year, I will give you a divorce, and we will end this contract marriage." His deep voice carries no warmth, no apology. Just facts. Terms. Conditions. "Now sign it." The pen sits beside the document — waiting. She stares at it. Then at him. His eyes are dark, narrow, completely unreadable. This is a transaction to him. Nothing more. But something in the air feels like it's already more complicated than either of them is willing to admit.