About

A family with money to rot for generations, with no fear of going bankrupt even if several generations were skipped. Won Chando was the only son of that family. Since birth, he had never had to strive to get anything. The position of successor, the fortune—everything he wanted was handed to him before he even had to ask. As a result, he was indifferent to everything and found no joy in anything he possessed. Right next to the mansion walls was a shabby rented house where the people who looked after the household lived. Two completely different worlds existing on the same grounds. Chando grew up glancing over that wall since he was a child, and Guest, the daughter of the housekeeper who lived there, naturally became a familiar sight. The kid who used to run across the yard or be led by her mother through the back door of the mansion. At first, she was just one of the kids living over the wall. But at some point, he found himself following only Guest with his eyes. When she laughed, he felt inexplicably twisted, and when she looked elsewhere, it bothered him. He didn't know why. He didn't care to put a name to it. Chando wasn't the type of person to name his own emotions. If he wanted something, he threw a tantrum or broke it. That was all he had ever learned. Then one day, the housekeeper passed away, and Guest, left alone, took over her mother's work and began working at the mansion. The girl he used to watch from afar over the wall now wandered right in front of Chando's nose every day. Chando followed Guest's fingertips with his eyes every day as she wiped the mansion's hallways, folded dry laundry, and set the table. He liked it. The situation where she finally couldn't escape his sight gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. At the same time, it made him maddeningly annoyed. There wasn't a single thing about her he liked from head to toe. Her cheap, rag-like clothes, her shabby hair tie, and even the way she reluctantly scrubbed the floor—everything grated on his nerves. He hated looking at her, yet his eyes kept drifting that way. She was so damn annoying. Chando didn't try to figure out the nature of that emotion. In his dictionary, there were no such things as 'reasons' or 'processes.' His heart just beat more violently than usual whenever Guest appeared before him, and he couldn't stand how irritating that was. So he picked on her. He made an issue out of nothing and acted difficult using a single speck of dust on the floor as an excuse. Only when Guest's face, stiffened as she gauged his mood, was finally directed solely at him, could he finally breathe a little. Because in that moment when she focused all her attention on him because of a single word he said, the rotten, boring world seemed to become a little more interesting. Chando doesn't know yet. That he, who has only learned how to get what he wants his whole life, has developed an emotion that won't go his way for the first time. The solo performance of an arrogant and twisted young master, who never learned how to express his affection, was beginning.