Vows of Deception

Nayeon sat frozen, the cold, pristine white of the wedding dress feeling like chains around her body. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the person staring back at her so alien, so distant. The fabric clung to her, the layers heavy, each one another layer of expectation she could never escape. The pristine white only felt like a mockery, a stark contrast to the storm of bitterness raging inside her.

She reached up, almost instinctively, to adjust the veil, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. This is a joke. A trap. A prison, she thought, bitterly. If only she weren’t the heir to Imtech—if only she could be free from this suffocating life, free from the demands of a family legacy that refused to let her breathe.

The music outside the dressing room played on, an endless loop of wedding marches and cheerful tunes that felt more like a funeral dirge. Every note made her skin crawl. She wanted to shout, to tear off the dress and run, to vanish into the night. But that was a fantasy. This was real. And in reality, she had no choice. This marriage was not for her, not for love, not for happiness. It was for the future of Imtech. For power. For control. And she was just a pawn in the game.

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her, its screen lighting up with a familiar headline. She knew what it was before even looking. Imtech's Legacy and the Alliance with Hirai's Clan. A deal sealed with her future—her very life—wrapped up in it. Her stomach twisted. She picked up the phone and scanned the article, her eyes briefly skimming over the dry words, the impersonal facts.

“The chairman of Imtech, Im Hongjin, has proposed an engagement with the Hirai Clan, a union that is set to strengthen both families' influence in the corporate and political spheres,” it read. Of course, the press was making it sound like a brilliant merger. The whispers of family power and success would be the narrative everyone would buy. The perfect pairing, the ideal match.

But it wasn’t ideal for her. Not even close.

She sighed and threw the phone back onto the table with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the empty room, and she felt the weight of the silence crash down on her. This wasn’t just a marriage—it was a business deal, a contract her parents had arranged without a single thought for her. Not about her feelings, not about her desires. They’d never asked her what she wanted, not once. They had made their plans and expected her to follow.

No choice. No freedom. Just obligations.

Her gaze shifted back to the mirror, where the woman in the dress seemed to stare back at her with cold, empty eyes. Nayeon felt like she was looking at someone else entirely. Someone trapped, someone who had already given up.

But not her. Not yet. The defiance still simmered under the surface, even if she couldn’t yet find a way to act on it. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for—perhaps a miracle, perhaps a reason to make it stop. But she knew one thing for sure: she hated everything about this. Every single moment, every single detail.

A knock on the door startled her, and she glanced up, heart thudding in her chest. It’s time, she thought, the words hanging heavily in the air. She wasn’t ready, not by a long shot. But she had no choice. She stood up, took a deep breath, and tried to steady her shaking hands. The door opened, and the wedding planner stepped in, her bright smile making Nayeon feel even more suffocated.

“Miss Im, everything’s ready. Your family’s waiting for you.”

Nayeon didn’t answer, just nodded stiffly and followed her, her steps slow and deliberate, as if she were walking to her own execution. The last thing she saw as she exited the room was her reflection in the mirror one last time. The woman in white was still there, but Nayeon knew that she wouldn’t be the same person when she stepped into that hall. She couldn’t be.

As Nayeon stepped outside, her eyes scanned the small gathering—only a handful of people present. Staff, a few close family members from both empires, all smiling and talking like they were part of some grand celebration. She clicked her tongue, annoyed, as she saw the fake tears and forced smiles around her. Some were genuinely moved by the event, others envious, but all of it felt like a performance, a carefully rehearsed charade. How pathetic, she thought, the words bitter on her tongue. The joy around her was hollow, a facade that couldn’t fool her.

She couldn’t help but feel suffocated, each step toward the altar like walking into a trap she’d never been able to escape. This is hell, she thought. This wedding, this life, it's all just a cage.

The ceremony was set in the private garden of the Hirai Clan, a place so serene it only served to deepen her unease. A small gathering of about thirty people stood around, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation, but all she could focus on was the suffocating heat in her chest. She counted the people absently, trying to distract herself, but each person felt like another barrier she couldn’t break through.

At the end of the white carpet, there was a priest, along with her friend Yoo Jeongyeon, standing beside an older woman Nayeon assumed was the eldest daughter of the Hirai Clan. She barely spared a glance at the gathering, letting her eyes fall to the ground, the ache in her heart intensifying. She still hadn’t seen the woman she was supposed to marry, and honestly, she didn’t care to. It doesn’t matter, Nayeon thought bitterly. None of this matters.

In fact, a small, cruel part of her hoped the woman wouldn’t show up at all, or that something would happen to stop this whole charade. A disaster, an accident—anything to make the wedding end before it even began.

But of course, that was just a fantasy. And she was wrong. Again.

At the end of the carpet, as she reached the spot where the ceremony was to take place, the whispers began. Her heart skipped a beat. The youngest daughter of the Hirai Clan, the murmurs started, some in awe, some in admiration, and some dripping with jealousy. Their words blended together in a language she didn’t fully understand, but she could feel the weight of their gazes on her. The people around her were as polite and perfect as expected, their words spoken in hushed tones as if Nayeon weren’t even there, lost in the reverence they held for the Hirai family.

And then, the inevitable happened.

The soft rustle of fabric announced the arrival of the woman who would be her wife. Nayeon refused to look at her. She didn’t want to see her. She didn’t care about her. The sound of footsteps grew closer, the soft shuffle of shoes on the carpet, followed by the unmistakable click of high heels.

With a guiding hand from the stylist, the youngest daughter of the Hirai Clan appeared at the entrance of the garden. The crowd’s gasps of admiration filled the air, and though Nayeon was standing right there, she didn’t even spare a glance. She focused instead on the ground ahead of her, trying to push the ache in her chest down as much as she could.

The woman—her future wife—moved slowly toward her, walking alongside her father. The delicate rustling of her dress and the quiet murmur of the onlookers blended into a strange kind of background noise that Nayeon couldn’t escape. The ache in her heart intensified. She was so close, yet so far away from everything she wanted. This is wrong, she thought. I shouldn’t be here.

Jeongyeon, standing on the other side of the aisle, watched closely. She knew Nayeon, maybe better than anyone, and she saw the tear that slipped down her cheek before Nayeon had a chance to wipe it away. She knew it was too much for Nayeon to bear, but as much as Jeongyeon wanted to comfort her, she knew there was nothing she could do.

Nayeon had cried herself to sleep the night before, whispering frantic prayers to a god she didn’t even believe in, begging for some kind of miracle to stop the wedding, to make everything stop. But Jeongyeon had seen this coming from the start. As the daughter of Imtech, Nayeon’s life had been planned for her before she was born. It was never meant to be her own. She had been born into a world of expectations, of obligations—nothing more than a tool to secure her family's legacy.

Jeongyeon pitied her, but there was nothing she could say that would ease the pain of watching Nayeon walk through this. She knew what it meant, what it had always meant: this marriage was about power, about legacy, about securing the future of Imtech. And the Hirai Clan was the key to that. But to Nayeon, it was nothing but a life sentence.

She couldn’t bear to watch it unfold, but she knew there was no stopping it. Not now.

The guests slowly began to murmur in low voices, exchanging glances as the ceremony came to its official end. The air felt thick with expectation, as the final moments of the union loomed. Nayeon’s gaze remained fixed firmly on the ground, not daring to look at the woman she was now bound to. She barely felt the weight of the glass she was holding, her fingers trembling slightly in the silent rebellion of her thoughts. Every part of her wanted to turn and flee, but that was no longer an option. She was stuck in this moment, in this life, with no way out.

Once the priest announced the official union, Im Hongjin, Nayeon’s father, and Hirai Takashi, the patriarch of the Hirai Clan, stepped forward. The two powerful men met in the center, bowing in respect to each other, symbolizing the merging of their families. Their movements were smooth and practiced, a picture of composure and mutual benefit, while Nayeon felt like an outsider, invisible in their shadows.

A waitress appeared beside the two men, holding a tray with glasses of wine. Im Hongjin took one, handing the other to Hirai Takashi. With a subtle nod, he raised his glass high, his voice cutting through the air with calculated strength.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Im Hongjin began, his tone deep and steady, "We gather today not just to celebrate a union, but to solidify the bond between two of the most respected legacies in this world—the Imtech family and the Hirai Clan. This union represents a future of unparalleled success, both in business and influence. It is a promise, not just between two families, but to the generations that will follow."

Nayeon could hardly hear the words. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her mind too focused on the absurdity of it all. The sound of glasses clinking together, the polite applause, the congratulatory murmurs—it all felt so distant. Nothing felt real anymore. It was like she was watching someone else live her life.

Im Hongjin’s gaze swept over the crowd, pausing briefly on Nayeon, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she stared at the empty space in front of her, wishing the moment would pass faster, that this charade would end.

"This is not just a marriage," he continued, his voice steady and sure, "but a strategic partnership that will elevate both of our families to even greater heights. We will stand together, stronger than ever, and ensure that our legacy remains unchallenged for generations to come."

As the crowd erupted in polite applause, Nayeon’s grip tightened around the glass, the only comfort she had. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her pulse quickening with frustration. How could they all pretend like this meant something? Like this was a victory? She hated every moment of it, hated how they all seemed so eager for this to be a triumph, when for her, it felt like the death of something precious.

Beside her, Hirai Takashi, the leader of the Hirai Clan, stood with a stoic expression, his eyes scanning the crowd, never once turning toward her. His silence was a constant reminder that, despite the formalities, they were nothing more than strangers bound by a forced agreement. Nayeon felt the coldness of his presence, a reminder of everything she was about to lose.

The formal toast continued, but Nayeon couldn’t bring herself to participate. Her father’s voice echoed in her ears, but it was muffled by the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. Her eyes, still cast downward, were fixed on the delicate glass in her hand. The sound of clinking glasses and murmured cheers only seemed to deepen her sense of isolation.

The guests, now satisfied with the speech and the pomp of the ceremony, began to move towards the buffet, some congratulating the newlyweds with practiced smiles, others exchanging polite pleasantries. But Nayeon barely noticed. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, watching as her life was being decided for her, piece by piece.

"Isn't this wonderful?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. Nayeon turned, surprised to see the eldest daughter of the Hirai Clan standing beside her. The woman smiled softly, but there was something cold behind the politeness of her expression.

“Wonderful,” Nayeon echoed flatly, her eyes flicking to the crowd. "I'm sure it is." She could hear the music in the background, the soft rustle of conversations, but none of it seemed to matter. The world felt distant, unreal.

The eldest daughter, whom Nayeon hadn’t yet learned much about, seemed to study her with a knowing look. "You’re a bit... quiet, aren’t you?" she said, her tone light, almost teasing. "I’d expect more from the daughter of Imtech. I thought the Imtech heirs were supposed to be bold."

Nayeon didn’t respond immediately. The woman’s words were like a dagger aimed at her pride, but she wasn’t going to let herself react. She just gave a faint smile, a mask she’d perfected long ago. "I prefer silence over pointless chatter," she said, her voice colder than she intended.

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but then smiled, as if she enjoyed the challenge. "Fair enough. But you should know," she lowered her voice, "the Hirai Clan does not take kindly to... distant behavior, especially from those who are now part of our family."

Nayeon’s stomach tightened at the implications in the woman's words. She knew this was not an empty threat; the Hirai Clan had their own rules, their own way of doing things. And now, she was part of it—whether she wanted to be or not.

Before Nayeon could respond, the eldest daughter stepped away, her gaze lingering for a moment longer. "You’ll have to do better than this," she said, her tone light but the meaning clear. "Or this marriage will be harder for both of you and my sister."

Nayeon didn’t answer. She wasn’t interested in playing these games. But as the woman disappeared into the crowd, Nayeon felt a cold shiver run through her. The pressure of the situation, the expectations of her new family, were becoming suffocating.

She had to get out. She needed air.

Without a word to anyone, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor as she made her way to the garden. The cool night air was a relief against the suffocating atmosphere of the reception, but even as she stepped into the open, she couldn’t escape the gnawing discomfort in her chest.

She wanted to scream, to break free of everything. But instead, she stood at the edge of the garden, staring at the moonlit horizon. There was no escape. There was only the weight of her responsibilities. The weight of this marriage.

She closed her eyes, wishing for the impossible, wishing for a world where she could be free.

“Hey.”

The soft, melodic voice cut through the night, and for a brief moment, everything around Nayeon seemed to blur. She froze, her body tense, as her gaze flickered to the side. Standing there, just a few feet away, was the youngest daughter of the Hirai Clan—the woman she was now bound to for the rest of her life.

Nayeon refused to look her in the eye. Instead, she kept her focus on the ground, the weight of the situation pressing on her chest like a vice. She had no interest in speaking to her, no interest in making any connections. This was not her life; this was not her choice. , and this will never be hers.

The young Hirai took a hesitant step forward, but Nayeon’s sharp voice sliced through the silence.

“Don’t come any closer,” she said, her words cold and cutting. The air around them seemed to chill further, the tension palpable. She could feel the silence hanging between them, the weight of unspoken words.

The younger woman, however, didn’t appear surprised. If anything, she seemed almost... resigned to this. As if she had been expecting this reaction all along. She remained silent for a moment, studying Nayeon with an unreadable expression.

Nayeon felt her patience wearing thin. She could already hear the words that would follow, the inevitable attempt at civility, the forced kindness. But she didn’t want any of it. She wasn’t here for this pretense.

“If you think I’ll be kinder to you because of this wedding,” Nayeon said, her voice dripping with disdain, “then that’s bullshit thinking of yours. Don’t you ever step closer to me. Mind your own business.”

With that, Nayeon turned sharply on her heel, her footsteps echoing on the cobblestone path as she made her way toward the waiting car. Her breath came in shallow bursts, a mixture of frustration and anger bubbling up inside her. Every part of her screamed to break free from the suffocating expectations, but she was trapped.

Behind her, Jeongyeon stood at the door of the car, watching the scene unfold with a sigh. She had always known how hard this situation was for Nayeon, but she hadn’t expected her to be so… harsh with the Hirai. Then again, Jeongyeon thought, perhaps Nayeon had reached her breaking point.

The youngest daughter of the Hirai Clan, standing where Nayeon had just been, remained perfectly still, her expression unreadable. She had been dismissed so easily, with so little emotion, as if Nayeon’s words were nothing more than a faint whisper in the wind. Jeongyeon could see the slight tightening of her jaw, the faintest shift in her posture, but there was nothing more. No outburst, no retaliation. Just silence.

It wasn’t a surprise. Jeongyeon knew that this marriage was a forced one for both of them. She had seen the way both families had treated this union as a business transaction—cold, calculated, and without regard for the feelings of those involved. She just hadn’t expected Nayeon to shut down so completely, to lash out at the woman who was now, in some twisted way, a part of her life.

Jeongyeon glanced back at the Hirai woman one last time before closing the car door behind Nayeon. Without a word, she slid into the front seat and started the engine. The city lights flickered outside as they pulled away from the Hirai’s estate, leaving behind the image of the family that Nayeon was now tied to—whether she liked it or not.

The silence in the car was thick, but Jeongyeon didn’t press Nayeon for conversation. She knew better than to try to break through her walls when they were so firmly in place. Instead, she drove, giving Nayeon the space she so clearly needed.

The wheels of the car hummed steadily on the road, but Nayeon’s mind was far from calm. The bitterness inside her was like a fire, consuming every ounce of her energy. She wanted to scream, to break free, but there was nowhere to go. No escape.

She had just been married off to someone she didn’t know, to a family she didn’t trust. And now, all she had left was the crushing weight of this impossible reality.

The path ahead felt endless, and Nayeon couldn’t see any way out.

The cold night air rushed past as the car rolled down the long driveway of the Hirai estate. Nayeon sat silently in the backseat, her thoughts swirling in a storm of frustration and resentment. She stared out the window, her face reflected in the dark glass, the world outside a blur of city lights and fleeting images. The harsh reality of the wedding was still sinking in, and the taste of the wine from earlier still lingered on her tongue, as bitter as the situation itself.

Jeongyeon glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Nayeon had barely said a word since they left the estate, and Jeongyeon knew better than to press her. She had seen Nayeon like this before—quiet, withdrawn, a shell of the confident woman she once was. The weight of the marriage was heavy, and Nayeon was struggling to reconcile what had just happened with the life she had hoped for.

It wasn’t long before the car pulled up to Nayeon’s apartment building, a sleek, modern high-rise that towered above the city. The building was a reflection of Nayeon herself—cold, precise, and functional. It was the life she had built for herself, the life that was now slipping through her fingers.

As the car stopped, Jeongyeon turned to Nayeon, her voice soft. “Do you want me to wait?”

Nayeon didn’t respond immediately. She sat there for a moment, the silence pressing in on her. She had no desire to go inside, no desire to face the cold, empty space that awaited her. All she could think about was the fact that, for the rest of her life, she was tied to a person she barely knew, a family she had no love for. It was a prison, one she couldn’t escape from.

“No,” Nayeon said finally, her voice distant. “I’ll be fine. You can go home.”

Jeongyeon hesitated, clearly not convinced. But she nodded anyway, knowing that when Nayeon made up her mind, there was no changing it. With one last look, Jeongyeon stepped out of the car and left, the sound of her footsteps fading into the night.

Nayeon sat in the backseat for a moment longer, staring at the entrance of the building. She wanted nothing more than to retreat to her apartment, to hide from the world, to pretend that this wedding hadn’t just happened. But she couldn’t escape the fact that it had.

As she stepped out of the car, her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking through her thoughts. She reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly as she unlocked the screen. There was a message from Mina.

“I miss you.”

The simple words hit Nayeon like a punch to the gut. Mina. Her heart skipped a beat as the weight of the situation seemed to press down even harder. How could she reconcile the life she had built with Mina with this new, forced reality?

She couldn’t.

But she knew she couldn’t lose Mina. Not after everything they had been through. Nayeon quickly typed a reply.

“I miss you too. I...I need you.”

She stared at the screen for a moment, waiting for Mina’s response. The minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly, but finally, her phone buzzed again.

“I know. Where are you? Do you want to talk?”

Nayeon felt a pang of guilt. She wanted to talk, to tell Mina everything. But how could she explain this mess? How could she tell her that she had just been married to someone else, someone she didn’t love, someone she had no connection to? How could she tell her that she was trapped in a life she never wanted?

Before she could respond, the elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand. As the doors slid shut, she felt the weight of her decision settle in. She had to face this. She had to live with it.

When she reached her floor, Nayeon stepped into her apartment, the cool, sterile air greeting her like an old, unwelcome friend. The place felt empty without Mina’s presence, without the warmth that Mina brought into her life. 

The silence in Nayeon's apartment felt heavier than usual, as if it was filled with things neither of them wanted to say. Nayeon’s phone buzzed incessantly in the background, but she didn’t even bother to check it. The wedding had been a blur—so many people, so many eyes on her, the vows that were not her own, the smiles that felt like daggers. It was all a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

She had barely even made it back to her apartment before her thoughts started spinning. But then, she felt the familiar ping of a message. It was from Mina again.

“Are you home yet?”

Nayeon didn’t answer at first. She couldn’t. There was nothing to say. She knew Mina had already seen the headlines—everyone had. But Mina didn’t ask about the wedding. She didn’t ask if Nayeon was okay. Instead, she waited for Nayeon to tell her in her own time, a silent understanding between them that somehow only made everything feel worse.

“I’m home,” Nayeon typed back, her fingers lingering over the keys before she sent it. That was all she could muster. It was as if the words were stuck in her throat, waiting for the right moment to spill out.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang.

When Nayeon opened the door, there stood Mina, as composed as ever, yet her eyes held a softness, a trace of worry Nayeon could never shake off. Mina didn't speak immediately, just entered the apartment and closed the door softly behind her, her presence filling the empty space in a way that both comforted and unsettled Nayeon.

Nayeon turned away, feeling the weight of the wedding still pulling at her chest, but Mina didn’t push. She didn’t ask anything. She just let Nayeon be, sensing the tension that swirled in the air between them.

They stayed silent for what felt like hours, the quiet hum of the city outside the only sound between them. Nayeon tried to keep her thoughts occupied, moving aimlessly around the apartment, fiddling with things just to avoid the inevitable conversation.

Mina, however, didn’t let the silence grow uncomfortable. She stayed close, standing by the window, her back against the glass. She could see the way Nayeon’s shoulders tensed every time she glanced at her phone, the way her gaze would linger, like she was waiting for something to change. Mina understood it all, but she didn’t push. She wouldn’t force Nayeon to speak.

But Nayeon couldn’t meet her eyes.

Finally, when the silence became too thick to ignore, Nayeon finally muttered, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mina’s heart sank, though she hid it behind a quiet, neutral expression. She didn’t say anything at first, just nodded, understanding more than Nayeon realized.

Nayeon’s voice faltered. “I didn’t have a choice. You know that, right?” Her eyes remained on the floor, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mina’s breath hitched in her chest. She wanted to say something—anything—to ease the pain she could feel radiating off Nayeon. But the words caught in her throat, because Nayeon wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was trapped, forced into a marriage she never wanted, while Mina waited, hoping for an opening to make her feel understood. And she knows it all.

Mina remained silent, choosing instead to close the distance between them. She walked toward Nayeon, slowly, her steps quiet as she approached. Nayeon didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge the shift in the air as Mina reached out, her hand gently brushing Nayeon’s arm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mina said softly, her voice steady but laced with a quiet hurt Nayeon couldn’t ignore.

Nayeon tensed at the touch but didn’t pull away. She wanted to. She wanted to escape the overwhelming feeling of everything closing in on her, but the truth was, there was nowhere else she wanted to be but here, with Mina. Her head dropped, her eyes shutting tight to stop the tears that threatened to spill over.

“I didn’t want this,” she whispered, barely audible.

Mina’s fingers brushed against the side of Nayeon’s face, urging her to lift her gaze. Nayeon’s eyes were rimmed red, the tears she’d been holding back for hours threatening to fall. Mina wiped a stray tear away, her touch so gentle it made Nayeon’s heart ache even more.

“You don’t have to say it,” Mina murmured, “I know. I know.”

But that was the thing. Mina knew, yet Nayeon couldn’t bring herself to say the words. It felt like admitting defeat, like she was giving in to the life she never chose. And Mina wouldn’t force it.

“I’m here,” Mina continued, her voice soft, but there was a resolve in it. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

The words, simple as they were, didn’t fix anything. They didn’t make Nayeon’s life any easier. But for the first time that night, Nayeon allowed herself to lean into the comfort that Mina offered. She let herself be held, her body trembling against the warmth that Mina provided.

They stood there for a long time, neither of them speaking, but the silence between them was different now. It wasn’t filled with questions or unspoken pain. It was filled with the quiet understanding that no matter what happened, no matter how broken Nayeon felt, Mina would still be here.

Later, as they lay together in the bed, Mina wrapped her arms around Nayeon, pulling her close. The dark of the night surrounded them, and Nayeon could feel the weight of the day slowly starting to fade.

Mina held her tightly, not saying a word, as if she knew there were no words that could make this better. But being there with her—this—was the only thing that could.

Nayeon closed her eyes, letting herself forget about everything for just a moment. The wedding. The pain. The betrayal.

For just a little while, all she needed was Mina’s presence to keep her grounded.

And as the night stretched on, they stayed like that, holding each other through the pain, until sleep finally claimed them both, together.