Vows of Deception

“Hey, Sana! Don’t you think you’re too focused on work these days? You’ve got to loosen up a little!” Dahyun exclaimed as she side-hugged Sana, her honey-pale skin glowing softly under the streetlights. Her simple yellow shirt, neatly tucked into her skirt, gave her a casual yet polished look. She batted her lashes dramatically, her lips curling into a teasing smile, as if her exaggerated antics would convince Sana to join them.

Sana sighed, glancing at her friend’s hopeful expression. “I don’t think she’s going to agree, Dahyun,” Jackson chimed in, leaning casually against a parked car. His white jacket gleamed under the muted light, his hands buried deep in his pockets as his sunglasses—an odd choice for the night—slid slightly down his nose.

“She looks annoyed already,” Miyeon added with a sly grin, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a red fitted dress that stopped just above her knees, her polished appearance giving her the air of someone always ready for the spotlight.

Mark chuckled from the side, his black leather jacket slightly unzipped, revealing a plain shirt underneath. His baggy pants and relaxed posture made him seem entirely at ease. “Bet you’re regretting visiting us already, huh?” His voice carried a teasing lilt as his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Sana let out a small groan, torn between her irritation and the warm familiarity of being around her closest friends. Despite their playful chaos, she had missed them. It had been nearly four months since their last proper hangout, everyone too caught up in their busy schedules to make time for one another. Dahyun, who rarely invited anyone out, was the one who had reached out this time—an unusual gesture that Sana hadn’t had the heart to refuse.

Her gaze shifted back to Dahyun, who was still clinging to her, now blinking rapidly as if pleading for her life. Sana rolled her eyes but felt a faint smile tug at the corners of her lips. “Fine,” she relented. “Just this once.”

Her words prompted a small cheer from the group.

“But,” Sana added firmly, her eyes narrowing, “where are we going? And it better not be a bar.”

The mischievous glances they exchanged only deepened her suspicion, but before she could protest, Dahyun and Miyeon each grabbed one of her arms, practically dragging her along.

By the time she realized where they were heading, the loud, rhythmic thrum of bass-filled music had already reached her ears. The bar’s entrance loomed ahead, its dimly lit sign flickering faintly.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Sana muttered, her nose wrinkling in distaste as the heavy scent of alcohol and sweat hit her the moment they stepped inside.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Miyeon called out over the music, her voice nearly drowned by the pulsating beats. She playfully shoved Sana and Dahyun forward, laughing when they both stumbled slightly.

Sana glanced around the room, taking in the chaotic scene. The dance floor was a writhing mass of bodies, people moving in sync with the booming music. The air was thick, not just with the smell of liquor but with an underlying tension—hushed whispers, making outs, clinking glasses, and the occasional raised voice cutting through the noise.

Her gaze settled on a nearby table occupied by a group of men. They were speaking loudly, their voices carrying easily over the music.

“Ten million,” one of them said, his tone casual but his words vile. “Give me your daughter.”

Sana’s breath hitched, her eyes narrowing as disgust curled in her stomach. The men laughed uproariously, their crude amusement making her skin crawl.

“Ten million is too low,” another man said, leaning forward. “How about twenty-five million? A body like that is worth at least that much.”

Sana clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening as her gaze darkened. She wanted to look away but found herself frozen, her ears straining to catch every word of their abhorrent conversation.

“Half a billion,” a third man declared with a smirk, raising his glass. “At that price, your daughter is all mine. Deal?”

For a moment, there was silence at their table, broken only by the hum of the music in the background. Then, the man they were addressing—someone who had been quietly observing—finally spoke.

“Deal,” he said with a cold smirk.

The dim blue lighting flickers briefly, illuminating his face for just a second. That was all Sana needed. Her heart stopped as recognition dawned—Im Hongjin, the chairperson of ImTech.

The realization sent a chill down her spine. She had seen his face countless times in business news, his reputation as a ruthless tycoon preceding him. But to hear him speak so callously, to witness this side of him firsthand, was something she wasn’t prepared for.

“Here’s your drink, Satang.” Jackson’s voice broke through her thoughts as he slid a glass of tequila in front of her. His smile was carefree, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

Sana barely managed to nod, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for the glass. Her attention was still locked on the men, her mind reeling.

“Sana, you okay?” Dahyun’s voice was softer now, her brow furrowed with concern as she placed a hand on Sana’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Sana lied, though her heart thundered in her chest.

The vile laughter from the men’s table echoed in her ears, blending with the pounding music. This wasn’t just an unsettling encounter—it was a glimpse into a world she wanted no part of. But something told her that she wouldn’t have a choice.

Sana sat alone in her office, her gaze fixed on the sheet of paper in her hand. The HR team had handed it to her earlier that day, and its contents were as comprehensive as she’d expected. It outlined every crucial detail about the Park family’s eldest daughter—her name, age, background, and daily schedule, all meticulously compiled. The document even delved into the woman’s life story, neatly summarized for easy reference. Sana wasn’t surprised by the level of detail; with the network of resources at their disposal, digging into someone’s life was a trivial task. The Park family wasn’t just powerful—they were a dynasty known across industries, and gathering information on them was as simple as making a phone call.

Her eyes settled on the name printed at the top of the report: Park Jihyo. Aged 28, Jihyo was a graduate of a prestigious American university, where she had earned dual degrees in Entrepreneurship and Political Science. The combination struck Sana as both practical and ambitious, perfectly suited for someone groomed to carry the weight of the Park legacy. The details didn’t surprise her; they only confirmed what she already assumed. People like Jihyo weren’t ordinary—they were trained, prepared, and molded for success from the moment they were born.

The document mentioned Jihyo’s three younger siblings, providing a brief overview of their lives and accomplishments. But Sana barely gave them a passing glance. She had no reason to care about the others. For her purposes, only Jihyo mattered. Setting the paper down on her desk, Sana let out a soft sigh and reached for the brown envelope that had accompanied it.

The envelope felt weighty in her hands, and she took her time untying the string that kept it closed. Once the knot was undone, she tipped it gently, allowing its contents to slide out onto her desk. A stack of glossy photographs emerged, and Sana picked up the top one. She studied it closely, her expression unreadable.

The photo captured Park Jihyo in a candid moment. She was seated at a bar, her head tilted back in laughter, surrounded by friends. The scene was familiar to Sana; the dimly lit interior and sleek décor gave it away instantly. This wasn’t just any bar—it was one of the city’s most exclusive establishments, a place where celebrities, politicians, and industry giants gathered to mingle away from prying eyes. But for Sana, this wasn’t just a glitzy backdrop. It was the very place where she had overheard a conversation that had shaken her to her core. The chairperson of ImTech, Im Hongjin, had been seated close to hers, speaking in chillingly casual tones with a group of men about Nayeon that still churned her stomach.

Flipping the photo over, Sana’s lips twitched at the sight of the note scrawled on the back in messy, familiar handwriting:

“Ms. Park will go here later tonight with her friends. It’s the best time to talk to her. Damn, she’s hot.”

A small laugh escaped her lips, unbidden. “Momo,” she murmured, shaking her head.

There was no mistaking the playful tone or the messy handwriting—it was undeniably Momo’s. Her sister’s irreverence was as consistent as the sunrise. Momo had a reputation that preceded her. She was a whirlwind of charm and audacity, someone who lived without hesitation or inhibition. Gender didn’t matter to her; neither did convention. If someone caught Momo’s eye, she pursued them with a mix of confidence and disarming humor that made it impossible for anyone to resist.

What baffled Sana most was how Momo always managed to walk away unscathed. None of her flings ever seemed bitter or resentful. On the contrary, they spoke of her fondly, as if even the briefest moment in her presence was something to be cherished. Sana found it absurd, yet somehow enviable. Momo’s world seemed so carefree, so uncomplicated—a stark contrast to her own.

Anyways, back to Jihyo. Sana turned the photo back over, her eyes lingering on Jihyo’s face. The woman in the image exuded an effortless confidence, her laughter so vibrant that Sana could almost hear it through the stillness of her office. For a brief moment, she wondered what it might feel like to be so carefree, to exist without the weight of expectations and secrets pressing down on her. But the thought was fleeting.

Her attention shifted to the clock on the wall, its steady ticking filling the quiet room. Eight hours remained until night fell, eight hours until Jihyo and her friends would arrive at the bar. The time felt both too short and agonizingly long.

Sana leaned back in her chair, her posture stiff, her hands gripping the armrests tightly as if trying to anchor herself. The room was quiet, the kind of silence that felt suffocating rather than comforting. The weight of her decisions pressed down on her like an unrelenting storm, its intensity growing with each passing second. This wasn’t about business or duty—it had never been about that. From the beginning, it was always for Nayeon. Her chest tightened at the thought, her emotions swirling like a tempest that refused to calm. Sana’s jaw tightened as she resolved herself to act. Nayeon would never know the lengths she was willing to go to protect her, but that didn’t matter, she doesn't want Nayeon to know her plan either. All she wants is to keep her safe no matter what the cost is and her family. Why do I even care so much? When in fact I never did this to anyone before? 

Am I really doing the right thing? The question gnawed at her, its sharp edges cutting into her resolve. Sana opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, her vision blurring slightly. Her jaw tightened, and she straightened her back, willing herself to stay strong. It didn’t matter if Nayeon never understood her actions. It didn’t matter if she became the villain in Nayeon’s eyes. What mattered was that Nayeon was safe, that the shadows lurking around them never reached her.

Why do I care so much? Sana’s thoughts were relentless, refusing to give her peace. She couldn’t remember a time when she had gone to such lengths for anyone else. Her life had always been about fulfilling expectations, securing alliances, and maintaining the reputation of the Hirai family. She had never let herself become vulnerable, never let her emotions dictate her decisions. And yet, here she was, willing to risk everything for Nayeon—someone who didn’t even trust her, someone who probably never would.

Sliding the photos back into the envelope, Sana sat in silence, her thoughts churning. Tonight would be pivotal. The stakes were high, and the risks even higher. But none of that mattered. Her path was clear, and she would walk it alone, just as she always had.

Sana stood by the door, the harsh words from Hongjin’s phone call ringing in her ears. The office was still, but the voice coming through the phone was anything but furious. "What the fuck is this, Hongjin?! You let your daughter marry someone? Are you fucking up with me?! I'm not letting this!" The words were loud, filled with anger, and the frustration was clear.

Sana could hear Hongjin’s voice from across the room, though his back was turned toward her. He didn’t realize she hadn’t left the office yet. “Hey hey, I did not. The Hirai’s paid a billion for the partnership! How could I refuse that? And in fact, you only offered half a billion,” Hongjin’s voice was low, but there was no hiding his frustration, as if mocking the man from the other end.

The other man on the line didn’t hold back either, his tone sharp and filled with authority. “Two billion. Either you give me your daughter, or she’ll be dead. This is a business talk, choose wisely, Hongjin.” His laugh after the threat was dark, chilling.

Sana’s breath hitched as the words sank in. She had known things weren’t simple, but hearing this confirmation felt like a punch to her gut. The stakes were higher than she had ever imagined, and the protection she had hoped to give Nayeon was becoming more difficult to control.

The men Hongjin dealt with weren’t ordinary. There was something about them that felt bigger, more dangerous than anyone Sana had ever encountered. They didn’t act like businessmen or even high-ranking officials; they carried an air of secrecy and power that made them seem untouchable. Everything about them—how they talked, moved, and even stayed silent—made it clear they weren’t people you could cross easily.

Sana couldn’t figure out who they were. Could they be part of some private organization? A hidden group that worked behind the scenes, controlling things without anyone knowing? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. But then, another idea crept into her mind, one she immediately tried to push away. Could they be… part of the mafia?

She quickly shook her head. That’s ridiculous, she thought. The mafia isn’t real, at least not in the way people talk about it. Those things only exist in movies or stories, right? But even as she tried to convince herself, the way those men carried themselves made her doubt.

They weren’t just powerful; they were terrifying. There was a coldness about them, a feeling that they didn’t follow the same rules as everyone else. Sana couldn’t shake the unease growing inside her. If they weren’t mafia, then who were they? 

What unsettled Sana the most wasn’t just their aura of power—it was their intentions. These men didn’t just want a business partnership with ImTech; they wanted Nayeon. They spoke of her as if she were a commodity, something to be traded, bought, and owned.

Two billion, the audacity made Sana’s stomach churn. How could they even think of treating someone like that, let alone Nayeon? It was disgusting, horrifying even. They didn’t see Nayeon as a person with dreams, emotions, and a life of her own. To them, she was a prize to be purchased, a tool for their own gain.

“Fuck man, I’ll give her to you in three months. I’ll call off their marriage,” Hongjin finally said, his voice tight. It sounded like he was defeated, unwilling to fight anymore. Sana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was everything she had feared. The arrangement, the very thing she had worked so hard to set in place to keep Nayeon safe, was about to be destroyed.

Sana stood frozen, listening to the rest of the conversation, her heart racing. She’ll definitely not going to let Nayeon know about this or else she’ll get hurt and feel betrayed by her own family, her own father than ever she did. However, Sana felt powerless. She had tried so hard to make sure Nayeon would be kept out of harm’s way, but now it felt like everything was slipping through her fingers. But no, she won’t let that to happen, even if it means risking herself to protect Nayeon, she’ll do much more than Hongjin’s or his private communication around the world.

Her pulse quickened as she heard Hongjin’s last words, and the cold laugh on the other end of the phone only made it worse. She couldn’t stay here any longer. Without thinking, she stormed out of the office, her mind swirling with everything she had just heard.

Sana could barely believe how far some people would go, treating their own family like nothing more than something to be sold. The idea of bidding on a daughter, like she was a piece of artwork to be owned, made her stomach turn. The way those men had spoken, so casually and without any care, filled her with disgust. These were supposed to be respected figures, admired by so many, yet their words showed how heartless they truly were. It was hard to understand how the world could look up to people like them when they were so cruel behind closed doors.

But as much as she hated them, a cold fear gripped her heart. What if she wasn’t strong enough to protect Nayeon? What if all her efforts to shield her from these powerful men ended in failure? The thought of it was unbearable. She couldn’t let herself fail—not now, not when everything she was doing was for Nayeon’s safety.

The men Hongjin had spoken to that night three months ago still haunted her thoughts. They weren’t just businessmen or petty criminals—they were connected. There were whispers of private organizations from the United States, others who appeared to be from African countries, and the way they had banded together, each of them vying for a piece of something more valuable than just money, was chilling. What did they want with Nayeon? Why was she the target of such dangerous people? All of it pointed to a bigger, more complex web than Sana had originally imagined. She had to move quickly, decisively. It was too risky to let her guard down for even a second.

That was where the Park’s came into play. Sana’s mind quickly shifted to the Park family. They were known for their influence, their power, not just in business, but across global politics. The Park family was everywhere—government deals, court cases, politics—and they had connections that stretched far beyond what most people could even comprehend. Sana had spent enough time with the HR team to gather the details, the confidential reports that had painted a very clear picture of who the Park’s really were. They weren’t just another powerful family; they were a network unto themselves, a group that could access governments from all over the world without breaking a sweat. They were that influential, that well-connected. And that’s why Sana needed them. In this game of shadows and power, she needed someone who could match her family’s influence, and the Park’s were just the kind of ally she needed.

But negotiating with the Park’s wasn’t going to be easy. Sana had suspected that the eldest daughter of the Park family, Jihyo, had turned down the ImTech offer for a reason. The Park’s weren’t interested in dealing with just anyone, especially not with someone like Hongjin, who might have money but lacked the kind of clout they respected. They only aligned themselves with others who were in their weight class, and that meant they had to see something in the Hirai family to even entertain the idea of working together. As much as Sana hated to admit it, the Hirai’s weren’t far behind the Park’s. They were powerful, respected, and influential, but in the grand scheme of things, they weren’t quite as untouchable as the Park’s. But they weren’t alone. The Imyoui Clan, for example, while not as big in scope as the Park family, were close enough in influence to warrant attention. The Myoui family, too, held great weight, particularly in Japan, where they were revered as something close to royalty. It was a delicate balance, one Sana had spent years carefully building.

However, there was still that lingering shadow, that dark moment in the Hirai family’s past—the disappearance of the Myoui family’s youngest daughter, a case that had never been solved. It was something that still haunted the older generations, especially the matriarch of the Imyoui clan, who couldn’t help but murmur about her lost child, even decades later. That tragedy weighed on their reputation, whether people wanted to admit it or not. The Hirai family had managed to distance themselves from that particular issue, but the memories remained, like an unspoken curse.

And then there was the Chou family, a Taiwanese royal family with a reputation of their own. Though not as public or open as the Park’s or the Hirai’s, their charity work and devotion to their country had earned them respect from all corners of the globe. Their youngest daughter was set to inherit the throne, a move that shocked many who had always believed the eldest son would take the position. The Chou’s kept to themselves, but they were loved for their quiet contributions to the world. Their power, while subtle, was undeniable. In the grand scheme of things, Sana had no interest in courting the Chou’s directly. What she needed now was a way to leverage the Park’s position.

Looking at it all, Sana knew that negotiating with the Park’s was the best move for her and Nayeon. As dangerous as it was, it felt like the only option that made sense. The Park’s held so much power that, if she could convince Jihyo—if she could work out some sort of deal with the eldest daughter—it might give them the leverage they needed. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was a chance. A chance to keep Nayeon safe. The game was becoming far more dangerous than she ever anticipated, but Sana wasn’t the type to back down, especially when the stakes were so high.

If she had to deceive the Park’s eldest to secure their protection, so be it. She knew Jihyo was powerful, perhaps even the most powerful in their family. But for Nayeon’s safety, Sana was willing to take any risk, even if it meant getting her hands a little dirty. After all, in a world built on power and lies, sometimes the only way to survive was to play the game.

The sound of a phone notification pierced through the stillness of the room, waking Mina from her deep, restless sleep. She slowly rubbed her eyes, blinking against the unfamiliar emptiness that met her gaze when she turned to the other side of the bed. The space where Nayeon should have been, warm and comforting, was nothing but cold sheets. That hollow feeling in her chest, the constant ache that came with the absence of Nayeon, stirred within her once again. It wasn’t the first time, but every morning without Nayeon felt heavier than the last.

Mina tried to sit up, the bed creaking under her movements. She leaned back against the headboard, feeling the plush surface against her skin as she attempted to steady her breathing. Her eyes flickered toward the bedside table where her phone lay. The notification sound had come from somewhere nearby, but she assumed it was from her phone. She and Nayeon had the same ringtone.

She stretched her arm out, picking up the phone, and glanced at the screen. The name on the notification caught her eye: ‘Momoring.’ Mina’s heart skipped a beat. She hesitated, fingers hovering over the phone. She didn’t want to open it, not now. Not when she wasn’t sure what it would bring. Her gaze shifted toward the door, instinctively checking if Nayeon had perhaps stepped outside for a moment. But the room remained silent, empty. It was just her, alone in the quiet.

Mina wasn’t the type to hide things from Nayeon. She hated secrets, especially from the person she cared about the most. But this? This was different. This is Momo that we are taking about. And everything that came with Momo is always complicated. Always tangled in emotions that Mina had long buried. The thought of confronting Momo again brought a sense of dread, but also a flicker of something else. Something she couldn’t name but felt deeply.

Her thumb trembled as it hovered over the screen, torn between wanting to throw the phone aside and give in to the temptation of reading Momo’s message. It was Momo after all, the one person who knew her in ways no one else could. She would never be able to ignore her. With a deep breath, Mina clicked the message, and the words instantly filled the screen.

‘It’s been so long, hasn't? I assume you already deleted my number so I’m introducing myself, Hi, Mina. This is Momo. There are a lot of things I want to tell you, I hope you don’t avoid me nor push me away. For now, there is only one thing I can tell you, I never abandoned you, Mina.’

The words hit her harder than she anticipated. A wave of emotions flooded her, and for a moment, Mina thought she might break down right there. Her throat tightened, and the tears threatened to spill over, but she quickly blinked them away. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—cry over Momo. Not now. Not when her heart was already a tangled mess of feelings for someone else.

Just as the emotions began to overwhelm her, a noise from outside the door snapped her back to reality. Her eyes widened as she quickly shoved the phone back onto the bedside table, hoping it didn’t make any sound as it landed. She sat still for a moment, trying to steady her breathing, trying to compose herself. She couldn’t let Nayeon see her like this. Not now. Not when she still wasn’t sure how to untangle all the things Momo had left behind.

With a sigh, Mina tried to push all thoughts of Momo aside, but the questions lingered, stubborn and unrelenting. What was Momo to her, really? Who had Momo been before all of this? And why did Mina feel the need to keep Momo hidden, locked away in a corner of her life that no one, not even Nayeon, could access? She didn’t have the answers—not now, maybe not ever. But the feeling, the one she couldn’t name, pressed against her chest like a weight. Was it longing for something lost? Hatred for something unresolved? Or was it love—a love that never had the chance to fully bloom? Mina didn’t know. The uncertainty only made the ache sharper.

“What are you doing?” Nayeon’s voice interrupted her thoughts, soft but tinged with curiosity. Mina looked up, startled, to find Nayeon peeking through the door, her smile as warm as ever. The sight caused an almost painful pang in Mina’s chest. That smile—it was everything. But how long would she be able to keep seeing it? How long before it faded, replaced by something else? How long before Nayeon’s habit of carrying the world on her shoulders became too much for her?

Mina knew Nayeon wasn’t secretive by nature. No, Nayeon’s silences were born out of a desire to protect the people she cared about, to shield them from pain, even if it meant taking that pain upon herself. Mina understood that, perhaps too well.

“Nothing,” Mina replied, forcing a smile to match Nayeon’s. “What were you doing?” Her gaze softened as she noticed Nayeon’s hair tied up in a bun, the faint smell of food lingering on her apron.

“I cooked breakfast. Let’s eat,” Nayeon said cheerfully, walking around the bed until she stood in front of Mina. Without hesitation, she reached out and took Mina’s hands, pulling her gently to her feet. “Pretty,” Nayeon added with a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through a storm.

For a moment, Mina let herself be pulled into Nayeon’s warmth, the heaviness in her chest lifting slightly. And just like that, the thoughts of Momo faded into the background, forgotten in the glow of Nayeon’s presence. By the time Nayeon left the room, Mina was smiling softly to herself, her mind fully focused on the woman who had just left. She quickly freshened up and stepped out, her steps lighter as she followed the sound of Nayeon bustling in the kitchen.

When Mina reached the dining table, she found Nayeon setting spoons and forks with a quiet focus. The sight brought an unexpected flutter to her chest, and she couldn’t help but smile as she took her seat across from Nayeon.

“Ah, right,” Nayeon began, breaking the comfortable silence. “I’ll be out after breakfast. I’m accompanying Sana to the Myoui wedding.” Her tone was casual, but the way her eyes flickered toward Mina betrayed a hint of worry. It was as if she was waiting for a reaction, bracing herself for something she wasn’t sure would come.

Mina, however, didn’t show any signs of discomfort. She met Nayeon’s gaze calmly, her expression unreadable. “Myoui? Are they another corporation?” she asked, her tone light as she picked up her rice bowl and took a small bite of the side dish.

“Kind of,” Nayeon replied with a slight shrug, visibly relieved by Mina’s reaction—or lack thereof. “They’re the second most powerful clan, almost like a royal family. Well, that’s all I know about them.” She tried to keep her tone casual, but there was an edge to her voice, a nervousness she couldn’t quite shake.

As much as Nayeon wanted to focus on the moment, on sharing breakfast with Mina, the thought of spending the day with Sana loomed over her. It wasn’t the event itself that made her uneasy, but the idea of being in close proximity to someone who complicated her life in ways she couldn’t explain. The thought made her heart pound, though whether it was out of anxiety or something else entirely, she didn’t know. All she could do was push the thoughts aside.

The ride to the Hirai estate was quiet. Jeongyeon and Jimin chatted briefly in the front seat, but Nayeon kept to herself in the back, her fingers tapping lightly on her lap. She had been mentally preparing for this visit, but the knot in her stomach refused to untangle. Being around Sana was still unnerving, especially the last moment they had yesterday and the argument, still carrying a heavy weight on her chest.

As the car pulled up to the grand estate, Nayeon glanced out the window. The sprawling mansion loomed ahead, its architecture exuding power and tradition. Waiting at the entrance were Sana, dressed impeccably in an understated yet elegant outfit, and Momo, who stood next to her with a playful smirk. Beside them was a tall man with an intimidating presence—Suho, if Nayeon recalled correctly. He was the Hirai family’s most trusted secretary and shadow, always close and ever watchful.

The car came to a halt, and Nayeon shifted slightly, moving to the far side of the back seat. Her pulse quickened as she anticipated the awkward interaction to come. She hoped Momo would join them for the ride. At least then, the tension might be diffused, even if only slightly.

Suho approached the car, his movements precise. With one hand, he opened the door, the other resting lightly on the frame to ensure neither of the Hirai women would hit their heads while entering.

“And there’s your ride, Ms. Im,” Momo teased, her voice light but carrying a sharpness that made Sana bristle. Nayeon turned her gaze to the window, pretending not to hear, though her throat tightened as the tension became palpable.

“What are you saying?” Sana hissed under her breath, glaring at Momo. Her voice was low, meant only for her sister’s ears, but the frustration in her tone was evident.

“Oh, don’t play innocent,” Momo replied, her smirk widening. “You like her. That’s why you’re—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening in realization. The words had slipped out before she could stop them. Her playful demeanor vanished as she clasped her hands together in a gesture of apology. “Sorry,” she whispered, her tone genuine as she looked at Sana pleadingly.

“This is why I can’t trust you with anything,” Sana muttered, rolling her eyes. Her glare turned into a warning look, sharp and unforgiving, before she turned and stepped into the car. She slid into the seat, her movements precise but stiff, settling in the center and unintentionally brushing against Nayeon’s arm. “Faster, Momo,” she snapped, her voice laced with irritation.

Momo, however, only grinned as if she had thought of something amusing. She gestured for Suho to step back, her smirk widening. “I’ll take the ride with Suho,” she announced, her tone light but laced with mischief. Her gaze flicked between Sana and Nayeon before she bent slightly, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Have fun, you two,” she added before slamming the door shut.

Inside the car, the silence was deafening. Sana sat rigidly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, while Nayeon stared straight ahead, her jaw tight. The tension between them was palpable, but neither made a move to address it.

Outside, Momo watched the car drive away, her smirk fading into something darker. She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at Suho, who stood silently beside her, his expression unreadable. “Nayeon’s still so stiff, huh?” Momo remarked, almost to herself. “Poor her, doesn’t even have any idea how far my sister is willing to go just to protect her.” Her tone was light, but her words carried a weight that hinted at something much deeper.

Momo’s gaze sharpened, her smirk returning as she added, “She better not hurt my sister. Or else…” Her voice trailed off, but her meaning was clear. She looked at Suho, her expression expectant. “Right, Suho?”

Suho, ever loyal, nodded without hesitation. “Of course,” he replied simply, his tone devoid of emotion.

Momo chuckled, satisfied. “Good.” She turned back toward the other car, her expression unreadable. After all, Momo wasn’t the carefree, teasing sister Sana believed her to be. No, she was far more than that—a wildcard, someone who always played her cards close to her chest, waiting for the right moment to strike. And now Nayeon…she'll wait and be content to watch. 

As Momo slid into the backseat of the sleek black car, her playful smirk had morphed into a more serious expression. She leaned back against the plush leather, crossing her legs with a calculated grace. Her fingers drummed lightly against her knee, but the look in her eyes was sharp, almost predatory.

"Give me all the information you can find on Nayeon," she said, her voice calm but carrying a weight that demanded obedience. "Everything. If you have to hack her profiles, do it. Leave no stone unturned."

Suho, standing by the open door, gave her a curt nod. "Understood, Ms. Hirai."

“And one more thing,” Momo added, tilting her head slightly as a shadow of amusement flickered across her face. “Take me to the YZ Bar later tonight after the wedding.” Her tone was casual, almost offhand, but there was an unmistakable edge of purpose behind her words. 

Without hesitation, Suho bowed deeply, signaling his acknowledgment. He then closed the door with precision and strode around the car, slipping into the driver’s seat. The engine hummed softly as the car began to move, merging smoothly onto the winding road leading away from the Hirai estate.

In the backseat, Momo rested her chin on her hand, staring out the window with a distant expression. The glimmer of mischief in her earlier interactions had all but vanished, replaced by something colder and far more calculating. She didn’t trust Nayeon—couldn’t trust her, not with how much Sana seemed to care about her. And Momo’s instincts, honed from years of watching the power plays within her family, told her there was more to Nayeon than met the eye.

"Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding, Im Nayeon," Momo muttered to herself, her lips curling into a faint smirk.

From the front, Suho’s steady voice broke the silence. "Do you want the information delivered directly to you, Ms. Hirai?"

“Yes,” Momo replied without hesitation. “And make it quick. I don’t like waiting.”

"Understood," Suho answered, his tone calm and professional as he focused on the road ahead.

As the car glided smoothly through the city streets, Momo’s mind was already racing. She wasn’t one to act impulsively; every move she made was deliberate. And if Nayeon turned out to be a threat—whether to Sana or the family, aside from the fact Sana risking herself to protect Nayeon—Momo would ensure that threat will be eliminated, one way or another.

The ride was uneventful, but the silence in the car was almost suffocating. Jimin kept his eyes on the road, completely unfazed, while Jeongyeon’s curiosity got the better of her. She kept glancing at the rearview mirror, watching the two passengers in the back. Sana leaned against the window, staring at the blurry scenery outside, her face unreadable. Beside her, Nayeon sat with her eyes closed and earphones on, shutting out everything around her.

The stillness broke when Nayeon stirred, her music pausing briefly as a text came through. She opened her eyes, adjusted her position, and checked her phone. An unknown number flashed on the screen. Intrigued, she opened the message.

"This is Momo. Look after Sana, she doesn’t look so well and hasn’t gotten enough sleep in months. You’re her wife now, so I thought it’s better to tell you this because she probably doesn’t want anyone, not even her family, to know her condition. She may be stubborn, but she listens well—at least to you."

Nayeon frowned as she read the message. Her eyes shifted to Sana, who was still staring out the window, her face pale and exhausted. The words echoed in her mind. She hasn’t gotten enough sleep for months. Is there something bothering her? What was keeping her up at night?

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Why should I care? This marriage was nothing more than a contract, a forced obligation. The Hirais were the reason she was stuck in this mess, and she had no intention of letting herself care about any of them—not Sana, not Momo, not anyone.

She flipped her phone over and let the music in her earphones resume. Whatever was going on with Sana wasn’t her problem. None of it mattered to her. The name she carries doesn’t even belong to her.

The car came to a stop, snapping Nayeon’s attention to the outside world. A massive crowd of photographers surrounded the area, cameras flashing as people stepped onto a pristine white carpet. Nayeon rolled her eyes, instantly recognizing what this was. It was exactly the kind of grand display her father would orchestrate.

This wasn’t just a simple event or wedding. Her father had undoubtedly sent his men to ensure every moment was captured, ensuring ImTech would steal the spotlight from the Parks. It was all about grabbing attention, making the company appear stronger and more dominant.

Nayeon sighed, her frustration bubbling under the surface. This entire marriage, this over-the-top show, was just another part of her father’s endless schemes. She clenched her jaw, her resentment growing as she watched the scene outside. She knew this all too well and she’ll act like what her father wants, but that didn’t mean she had to accept it. Inside, she felt the weight of her anger, sharp and unyielding. Never once grateful.

Jimin was the first to step out of the car, moving with his usual calm. Jeongyeon followed suit, her eyes darting around to assess the massive crowd. Jimin approached Nayeon’s door, pulling it open with ease, while Jeongyeon did the same for Sana on the other side. As Nayeon prepared to get out, she caught a glimpse of Sana through her peripheral vision. The other woman took a deep breath, the strain visible in the subtle rise and fall of her chest.

Jimin extended a hand, guiding Nayeon out with the smoothness expected of someone who understood the stakes of appearances. Jeongyeon mirrored his actions, helping Sana exit the car. The two women stood side by side, the bright flashes of cameras immediately bombarding them. The white carpet stretched ahead like a runway, and photographers swarmed as though they were Hollywood celebrities instead of business figures bound by circumstance.

For the cameras, both Sana and Nayeon managed to pull off smiles—polished, controlled, and utterly false. Beneath the veneer, irritation simmered in their forced expressions. Bowing slightly to acknowledge the reporters, they walked side by side, each step measured, their smiles unwavering. The grand doors at the end of the white carpet loomed ahead, a symbolic gateway to the spectacle waiting inside.

They were almost there when a reporter pushed forward, his microphone extending like an intrusive arm. “Is it true that your marriage is based on true love?” he asked, his voice cutting through the din. “People have been speculating ever since the headlines announced your engagement. The reactions online have been massive.”

The unexpected question made Jeongyeon and Jimin exchange sharp glances. Both knew how damaging silence could be. If neither Sana nor Nayeon answered, it would only fuel rumors that their marriage was nothing more than a contractual arrangement. And while that was the truth, the world couldn’t be allowed to know it.

Sana’s initial shock was fleeting, and she quickly masked her unease. She couldn’t let them suspect anything, especially when ImTech’s reputation—and Nayeon’s—was at stake. If the narrative spun out of control, people would accuse ImTech of using the Hirai family for clout, tarnishing Nayeon’s name and position.

Sana hesitated, her mind racing for an answer. She turned to Nayeon, silently pleading for help, but it was clear the other woman had no intention of responding. Nayeon’s cold expression was a brick wall, her unwillingness to engage written all over her face. Sana took a breath, preparing to respond, when Nayeon’s voice cut through the moment.

“We’ve been in love for almost two years,” Nayeon said smoothly, her tone light and confident as she slid an arm around Sana’s. Her smile was radiant, disarming the reporter in an instant. “As much as we wanted to keep our relationship private, the headlines were quick to uncover everything.” She offered a charming laugh before adding, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, the Imyouis are waiting for us.”

Before Sana could react, Nayeon subtly nudged her, signaling her to smile. Sana complied, her lips curving into a convincing expression of happiness. Then, they bowed slightly, maintaining their poise, and continued walking toward the doors. Behind them, Jimin and Jeongyeon exchanged stunned looks, clearly caught off guard by Nayeon’s sudden willingness to play along.

As soon as the grand doors closed behind them, cutting off the camera flashes and probing eyes, Nayeon’s demeanor shifted. Her arm dropped from Sana’s as her expression hardened back into its usual cold and distant. Sana wasn’t surprised by the change; she had learned to expect it but still ot used to it.

“None of this is real,” Nayeon said flatly, her voice low but firm. “This is what both our families agreed to. You know I’ll never feel anything for you, let alone like you. So, do whatever you want, as long as it’s not in front of the public.”

Nayeon’s words were cutting, but Sana didn’t flinch. She stood still, her exhaustion more visible now that they were away from prying eyes. Nayeon’s gaze flickered briefly to Sana’s face, and for the first time, she noticed the faint dark circles under her eyes, barely concealed by makeup. It struck her that she had never taken the time to really look at Sana before.

Jimin and Jeongyeon stood nearby, their eyes on Nayeon, silently observing the tension between the two women. Jimin’s expression was amused, as if he found the dynamic between them entertaining, while Jeongyeon looked worried. Nayeon gave them a small nod, silently signaling them to leave. Both understood and stepped away, leaving Nayeon and Sana alone in the opulent hallway.

Nayeon lifted her hand between them, her cold demeanor softening just slightly. Sana blinked in confusion, unsure of what Nayeon wanted. She looked up at Nayeon, her tired eyes meeting the other woman’s firm, distant gaze.

“I… I don’t know what you want me to do,” Sana said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Instead of answering, Nayeon reached out, gently taking Sana’s hand in hers. The unexpected gesture made Sana’s heart skip. Their fingers intertwined as Nayeon held up their clasped hands, a silent reminder of the roles they were playing.

“If you don’t want people to talk, you’ll need to convince them this is real,” Nayeon said simply.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and began walking toward the garden where the wedding was being held, dragging Sana along with her. Sana stared down at their joined hands, struggling to process the moment. She placed her free hand over her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Thankfully, it’s not racing, she thought to herself. I don’t feel anything for her. I’m just here to protect her from her father’s schemes.

But as she glanced up at Nayeon’s profile, the faintest hint of doubt crept into her mind. Or do I?

“Here,” Momo said softly, holding out an ice cream cone as she sat down beside Mina on the park bench. Her voice carried a gentleness that matched the quiet surroundings. Mina accepted the ice cream, her fingers brushing against Momo’s hand for the briefest moment. Momo’s gaze drifted to the black car parked a short distance away, where Suho stood with his back to them, his posture stiff and professional. She returned her focus to Mina, her tone casual but tinged with something unspoken.

“I was supposed to be at the Imyouis’ wedding event,” Momo admitted, breaking the silence as Mina studied the ice cream. “But then I thought about how lonely I’d feel being there, so I decided to visit you instead. I figured you could use some company.”

Mina’s eyes flicked up to meet Momo’s briefly before returning to the ice cream in her hands. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she murmured, “You still remember my favorite flavor.” Her words were almost a whisper, soft enough that Momo had to strain to hear them.

Momo chuckled, a quiet, warm sound that felt like a glimpse of the past. She leaned back slightly, watching Mina with a fondness that she couldn’t fully suppress. Mina, true to her habits, took her time unwrapping the ice cream, peeling the wrapper with deliberate care. When she finally uncovered the treat, she took the tiniest bite, savoring it like it was something precious.

Momo’s chest tightened as she watched her, a mix of amazement and melancholy settling in. She had forgotten how much she’d memorized every little quirk and habit of Mina’s, yet now, it all came rushing back. Every detail was etched into her heart, impossible to erase.

When she realized how long she had been staring, Momo quickly averted her gaze, turning her eyes toward the distant horizon. “Told you, I never abandoned you,” she muttered under her breath, the words more for herself than for Mina.

Mina didn’t seem to hear her, too absorbed in her ice cream to notice the raw emotion in Momo’s voice. For a moment, Momo felt a pang of both relief and longing. She blinked rapidly, willing the tears pooling in her eyes to disappear. She couldn’t let Mina see her like this—not now.

Clearing her throat, Momo stood abruptly, her movements stiff as she fought to compose herself. She turned slightly, ensuring her face was hidden from Mina’s view. “I’ve got to go, Pengi,” she said, her tone forced into something lighthearted, though the cracks in her voice threatened to give her away. “I’ll visit next time, so don’t even think about blocking my number. Otherwise, I’ll just have to bother you until you unblock me.” She added a playful smile, hoping it would mask the ache in her chest.

Mina giggled softly at the joke, and for a brief moment, it felt like old times. The sound of her laughter, so rare and delicate, sent a pang through Momo’s heart. How long had it been since she last heard it?

“Yeah,” Mina replied, her voice quiet but steady. “Take care.”

Momo waved, her hand lingering in the air for a second longer than necessary before she turned away. She walked toward the car, her shoulders rising and falling in deliberate movements, betraying her effort to maintain control. Her right hand clenched into a fist at her side, a habit Mina recognized all too well. It was Momo’s way of keeping herself from breaking down.

Mina watched her, her eyes tracing every step, every small motion. She knew the weight Momo carried even if the other woman didn’t speak of it. She knew it by the way Momo’s shoulders stiffened, by the tension in her stride.

Suho opened the car door, offering a steadying hand as Momo climbed in. Mina continued to watch as Suho slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. The car pulled away slowly, and as it disappeared from view, Mina’s gaze fell to the ice cream in her hands.

It was melting now, small rivulets running down her fingers. She took another bite, the sweetness mingling with the bitterness welling up in her chest. Tears blurred her vision, and one by one, they began to fall, streaking down her cheeks as she sat alone on the bench. She didn’t bother wiping them away, letting the emotions spill over.

She looked up at the empty road where the car had vanished, her heart heavy with unspoken words and lingering memories. All she could do was sit there, the melting ice cream in her hand, and feel the quiet ache of a connection that time and circumstances couldn’t sever.

Jeongyeon stood near the edge of the wedding event, her sharp eyes scanning the scene with a mix of curiosity and detachment. Beside her, Jimin appeared thoroughly uninterested in the festivities, his attention divided between the lavish buffet behind them and the champagne flute in his hand. She glanced at him briefly, amused by his apparent indifference, before her gaze drifted back to the ceremony unfolding in front of her.

The groom, the proud son of the Imyoui family, walked gracefully down the red carpet with his bride. His arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, and they wore smiles that dazzled the crowd. Applause filled the air as the guests clapped enthusiastically, some more genuine than others.

Jeongyeon’s focus shifted to two familiar figures standing a short distance away. Sana clapped politely, her smile soft but sincere, while Nayeon mirrored the gesture with far less enthusiasm. The disinterest on Nayeon’s face was hard to miss, and Jeongyeon almost smirked at the stark contrast between the two. Her musings were interrupted by a sudden vibration in her pocket. She flinched slightly, startled, before pulling out her phone. The screen lit up with a notification, and Momo’s name appeared.

Before she could read the message, Jimin’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you dating someone?” he asked casually, though there was a faint hint of teasing in his tone.

Jeongyeon looked up at him, confused. “What?”

“Well,” Jimin continued, gesturing vaguely in her direction with his champagne glass, “your smile looks creepy. It's giving me secondhand embarrassment.” He rolled his eyes dramatically before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving a dumbfounded Jeongyeon staring after him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jeongyeon muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she watched Jimin stride away. His offhand comment lingered in her mind, but she shrugged it off, more amused than offended. Turning her attention back to her phone, she unlocked it and tapped on Momo’s message.

“I forgot to drop by a convenience store. Do me a favor—buy some medicine for my sister. I heard there’s a shop nearby. My feet are killing me, so pretty please?”

Jeongyeon let out a quiet chuckle, her lips twitching into a small smile. Momo’s playful tone came through clearly, and Jeongyeon could almost imagine her pouting while typing the message, expecting Jeongyeon to say yes without hesitation.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the garden, Sana’s gaze kept flickering toward Nayeon. She tried to appear engaged in the event, clapping along with the rest of the guests, but her focus was elsewhere. The bustling crowd filled her with a quiet unease. There were too many unfamiliar faces, too many places where someone could get lost. The thought lingered in the back of her mind, gnawing at her.

She was acutely aware of Nayeon standing beside her, and the earlier moment when their hands had been clasped together refused to leave her thoughts. The warmth of that touch still lingered in her palm, and now that it was gone, her hand felt oddly empty. Sana tried to ignore the faint ache creeping into her chest, but it was harder than she expected.

Nayeon, on the other hand, stood motionless, her expression blank as her eyes swept over the crowd. The indifference in her demeanor was almost palpable, as though she were physically present but mentally somewhere far away. Sana’s fingers twitched at her sides, an unconscious desire to reach out and bridge the gap between them, but she quickly resisted the urge. 

Instead, she kept her focus locked on Nayeon, afraid that even a moment’s distraction might cause her to lose sight of her in the sea of unfamiliar faces. For Sana, the bustling atmosphere around them didn’t feel celebratory—it felt overwhelming. But she told herself she had to stay composed.

She took another fleeting glance at Nayeon, hoping for something—anything—that might ease the worry knotting in her chest. But Nayeon didn’t meet her gaze, her attention fixed elsewhere. Sana sighed softly and looked away, her heart feeling heavy with the weight of her unspoken thoughts.

Meanwhile, the wedding unfolding before Nayeon felt oddly familiar. It wasn’t the faces or the occasion itself that tugged at her memory but the setting. The garden, bathed in sunlight and filled with the scent of fresh flowers, was nearly identical to the one from her own wedding with Sana. The way the chairs were arranged, the scattered petals along the path, even the warm hum of laughter and applause—it was all painfully similar. Except for one glaring difference: this event felt alive, full of joy and genuine celebration. Hers and Sana’s had been the opposite—a hollow affair, devoid of warmth, a mere formality bound by a contract.  

As she stood among the guests, her thoughts began to wander. She glanced at Sana, who seemed focused on the ceremony, her hands lightly clapping with the rest of the crowd. But even from a distance, Nayeon could see the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the way her shoulders drooped ever so slightly. The signs of exhaustion were hard to miss now, though Nayeon had been willfully blind to them before.  

Her gaze lingered on Sana a little longer, taking in the details she’d often ignored. The gentle curve of her profile, the way her lips pressed together in quiet thought, and the faint glimmer in her tired eyes as she watched the couple exchange their vows. Nayeon realized, not for the first time, that she knew almost nothing about the woman standing beside her.  

It wasn’t a mystery why, of course. From the start, Nayeon had made a conscious choice to keep her distance. To her, Sana had been nothing more than a name on a contract, a pawn in their families’ political game. She had convinced herself that knowing Sana wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t undo the resentment she felt for being forced into this marriage or the lingering bitterness that clouded her judgment.  

But now, standing in the midst of this vibrant celebration, Nayeon couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of something unfamiliar—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even guilt. How could she have gone so long without noticing the cracks in the facade Sana carefully maintained?    

Nayeon sighed and looked away, folding her arms across her chest. She reminded herself that she didn’t care, that it wasn’t her responsibility to figure out what was weighing Sana down. And yet, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.  

After the wedding ceremony, the guests moved inside the grand Myoui mansion for the reception. The room was beautifully decorated, filled with the warm glow of chandeliers and the hum of soft classical music. Conversations mixed with laughter as people settled at their tables or mingled with one another.  

Nayeon was the first to step inside, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd. She was looking for Jeongyeon, who had disappeared earlier without a word. Her strides were confident, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor, but her face betrayed no emotion. It was a practiced mask, one she had perfected over the years.  

Behind her, Sana followed quietly. Her steps were slower, hesitant, as she took in the grand surroundings. The lively chatter and unfamiliar faces seemed to weigh on her, and she instinctively kept her eyes on Nayeon. There was a sense of unease in her movements, as if she feared losing sight of her in the bustling room. Despite her best efforts to appear composed, the tiredness in her eyes gave her away.  

As they made their way through the crowd, an older woman suddenly appeared in front of them. Her face lit up with a bright, warm smile the moment she saw Sana.  

“Oh my! Are these the newlyweds of ImTech and the Hirai family?” the woman exclaimed, her voice full of excitement. Her gaze focused on Sana, and her smile widened. “Omo, my Sana!”  

Before Sana could respond, the woman pulled her into a tight hug. Startled, Sana froze for a moment, her eyes wide, before relaxing and letting a small smile form on her lips.  

“Grandma,” she said softly, her voice carrying warmth and affection.  

The older woman pulled back, still holding Sana by the shoulders, and studied her carefully. “How have you been, sweetie? You look so lovely!”  

Sana chuckled, her smile growing more genuine. “I’ve been fine, Grandma. What about you? Have you been behaving? Or have you been giving Grandpa a headache again?” Her tone was light and teasing, her words laced with playful affection.  

The older woman laughed, swatting Sana gently on the arm. “This child! Always teasing me,” she said, her eyes twinkling with joy.  

As they talked, Nayeon stood quietly to the side, watching the exchange. It was like seeing a different side of Sana—one she had never seen before. The way Sana smiled and laughed, it was so natural, so unguarded. It wasn’t the polite, restrained version of her that Nayeon was used to.  

For a moment, Nayeon found herself staring. The sound of Sana’s laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled—it was strangely captivating. She blinked, realizing her heart was pounding slightly. Was it the music? The memory of their own wedding, so cold and formal compared to this? Whatever it was, it made her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t explain.  

The older woman turned her attention to Nayeon, her expression warm and welcoming. Sana noticed and gently guided the conversation.  

“Grandma, this is Im Nayeon,” Sana said, her voice steady yet soft. “My wife.”  

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, Nayeon didn’t feel the usual annoyance or resentment at the title. She stood still, her face carefully neutral, but something inside her shifted.  

The older woman stepped closer, her smile kind. She reached out and took Nayeon’s hands in hers. “You’re beautiful, my dear,” she said sincerely. “You and Sana look perfect together.”  

Nayeon opened her mouth to respond, but the woman wasn’t finished.  

“But you,” the older woman continued, her voice softer now, “you need to take care of yourself. I can see it in your eyes—you’re carrying a heavy heart, aren’t you?” Her gaze was gentle, but it felt like she was looking straight through Nayeon, reading all the emotions she worked so hard to hide.  

Nayeon stiffened slightly, unsure of what to say.  

The older woman smiled kindly and squeezed her hands. “I can tell that your heart and mind are having trouble, if it gets too much, come to me. Let this old grandma listen. Sometimes, sharing your troubles can make them lighter.”  

Before Nayeon could react, the woman pulled her into a hug. It was brief but full of warmth, as if the old lady were embracing Nayeon as her own daughter.  

Nayeon stood frozen for a moment, unaccustomed to such gestures, but something about the sincerity in the woman’s embrace made her relax, just a little. When the hug ended, she nodded silently, her lips pressing into a faint smile.  

Watching from the side, Sana felt her chest tighten. Seeing Nayeon, who was always so distant and guarded, accept even a small moment of comfort was something she hadn’t expected. For the first time, Sana saw a glimpse of vulnerability in her wife—a crack in the armor she wore so tightly.  

Jeongyeon walked toward the convenience store, the soft hum of the street and the rustle of the evening breeze filling the air. But just as she was about to step inside, her eyes caught something—Momo. She was sitting on a nearby bench, an ice cream cone in hand, staring blankly ahead, her gaze distant. There was something in the way she was holding the cone, something heavy about her posture. Jeongyeon frowned, sensing that something was off.

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward Momo and took a seat across from her, the quiet scrape of the chair legs against the pavement breaking the silence between them. “I thought your feet were hurting you,” Jeongyeon said with a gentle smile, though her voice carried an undercurrent of concern. “Yet here you are, looking like you’ve been sitting here for a while.”

Momo didn’t immediately respond. She merely took a slow, deliberate bite of her ice cream, her eyes flickering briefly to Jeongyeon before looking away again. “Eh… I just… don’t really have anyone to talk to right now. You’re the only person I know who might understand,” Momo murmured, her voice softer than usual, almost as if speaking louder would have broken something fragile within her.

Jeongyeon studied Momo for a moment, the tension in the air thick with unspoken words. “Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because, if I remember correctly, yesterday you were acting like I was some kind of stranger, avoiding me like you couldn’t wait to get away. So, what happened to that persona? The one where you seemed like you didn’t want me near?”

Momo's lips curved into a sheepish smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She took another bite of her ice cream, as if buying time to compose herself. "I... I don’t know,” she said, her voice hesitant. “I was nervous, okay? The things I said at that bar that night… I was embarrassed. They just slipped out. And I thought that maybe being around you would make me even more nervous, but now…” She trailed off, her voice drifting into silence, the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing down on her.

Jeongyeon sat still, watching Momo closely, sensing the quiet sadness in her words. There was more, a layer beneath her tough exterior that Jeongyeon had only caught glimpses of. Something was eating away at her, something deeper than just nerves. 

Momo shifted uncomfortably, still avoiding Jeongyeon’s gaze. “I really don’t want to go back inside,” she said quietly. “There are too many people in there. And besides… no one would even notice if I didn't come. Like I’m invisible, you know? Like no one really cares if I’m here or not.”

Jeongyeon’s heart tightened at the words. Momo’s voice, usually so filled with bravado, now trembled with a vulnerability that she rarely showed. It was like she had given up on being seen, on being truly noticed by anyone.

“What makes you feel that way?” Jeongyeon asked gently, her voice laced with sincerity. She wanted to understand, to reach out to Momo in a way that didn’t feel forced or uncomfortable, but like two people who had been living in the same world of loneliness for far too long.

Momo looked down at her ice cream, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the melting edges. “Well, as you can see,” she said, her tone flat, “only my family and a few people who actually matter to me know who I really am. But… even I barely know myself.” She paused for a moment, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “It’s hard to figure out who I am when everything around me is constantly changing. And even when I try to be real with someone… it feels like I’m just pretending.” 

Jeongyeon felt a pang in her chest, a mix of empathy and something deeper that she couldn’t quite place. She thought about how Momo had always seemed so full of life and energy, always quick with a joke or a playful remark. But underneath all of that, there was a loneliness that few people ever got to see. 

“I get it,” Jeongyeon replied softly, her voice steady and sincere. “I don’t really know who I am either. I’ve been trying to figure that out for a long time, but sometimes it feels like the harder I try, the less I know.” She paused, her eyes meeting Momo’s, her gaze unguarded. “Maybe… maybe we could figure it out together. You know, get to know ourselves better. We don’t have to do it alone.”

Momo looked up at her, her eyes searching Jeongyeon’s face for any sign of insincerity, but all she found was the quiet sincerity in Jeongyeon’s expression.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Momo’s lips, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. It wasn’t the playful, teasing smile she usually wore, but something softer, more genuine. “I’ll think about it, let's go, I'm worried about my sister.”

The celebration was loud and lively, with laughter and chatter filling every corner of the Myoui mansion. Nayeon excused herself from the crowded room, muttering something about needing the restroom, and left Sana behind with the Myouis. She wove through the throng of guests, her polite smile hiding the fatigue creeping up on her.  

As she pushed open the door to the restroom, the quiet inside felt like a relief. She stepped into one of the cubicles, locking the door behind her. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, she let out a long sigh. Her head leaned back against the cool wall, her eyes fluttering shut as she took slow, deep breaths.  

The restroom was a sanctuary from the chaos outside. It was the only place where she could find a moment of solitude, away from the prying eyes and suffocating attention. She closed her eyes, trying to push away the whirlwind of thoughts that had been bothering her all day.  

The faint creak of the restroom door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. Her eyes opened, but she remained still as the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor echoed. Two women entered, their laughter bouncing off the walls.  

At first, Nayeon paid no attention, thinking they were just guests enjoying the party. But then she heard the name— Sana . Her body stiffened, her senses sharpening as she focused on their conversation.  

“Isn't it crazy?” one of the voices said, a bitter edge to her tone. “ImTech is getting all this attention and popularity now after their heir married the youngest of the Hirai clan. I’m so jealous of her. I mean, I’ve been trying to get Sana’s attention for years, and now she’s married?”  

The second woman laughed lightly. “Well, what did you expect? But honestly, did you see them during the wedding? They were so distant. I thought they’d be lovey-dovey, but they barely looked at each other.”  

Nayeon frowned slightly, her hand tightening on the fabric of her dress. She leaned forward, her ears straining to catch every word.  

“But hey,” the first voice said again, her tone dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “My boyfriend works for the Hirai family, and he overheard something. Apparently, Takashi Hirai was talking to Sana’s eldest sister and ImTech’s secretary about something... about Sana protecting Nayeon.”  

Nayeon’s breath hitched at the mention of her name. She leaned closer to the cubicle door, her curiosity piqued.  

“What do you mean, protecting her? Isn’t that supposed to be her job as a wife?” the second voice asked, her tone laced with skepticism.  

“No, no, it’s not like that,” the first voice replied. “My boyfriend said it had something to do with their engagement. Like, maybe the wedding was arranged for a reason. Do you think it’s a contract marriage?”  

The second woman scoffed. “Oh, please. That kind of thing only happens in dramas. There’s no way something so ridiculous happens in real life, Eunha. Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s go.”  

The sound of heels clicking grew louder as the two women left the restroom, their conversation fading into the distance.  

Nayeon sat frozen for a moment, her mind racing with the pieces of information she had just overheard. Slowly, she unlocked the cubicle door and stepped out, her heels clicking softly against the floor. Her reflection in the mirror looked as composed as always, but inside, her thoughts were in turmoil.  

She wasn’t bothered by the women’s assumptions about her marriage being a contract. After all, it was true. What unsettled her was the mention of Sana protecting her—and that it had something to do with the engagement.  

Her fingers lightly brushed against the sink as she stared at her reflection, her mind replaying the words she had just heard. What did they mean by “protecting”? And why would it involve their engagement?  

Her jaw tightened as a flood of questions filled her mind. How many secrets are hidden in this marriage? she wondered. How deep does this go?

Shaking her head slightly, she straightened her posture and adjusted her dress. She couldn’t let herself get lost in speculation, not here, not now. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and it gnawed at her as she walked back to the party.  

For the first time, Nayeon found herself looking at Sana not with irritation, but with a strange mix of curiosity and confusion. There was so much she didn’t know about her wife, and for the first time, she wondered if she had been wrong to keep her distance.  

She wanted to know everything.  

Nayeon couldn’t shake the questions swirling in her mind, the weight of secrets hanging between her and Sana. The partnership between ImTech and the Hirai family, the sudden engagement, the unusual terms—none of it made sense. Why Sana, the youngest daughter, and not the eldest? What had driven her father to agree to such a deal? And why was Sana, of all people, willing to go along with it?  

The answers were locked behind Sana’s quiet smiles and tired eyes. Nayeon realized, if she was going to uncover the truth, she would have to get closer to Sana—closer than she had ever intended.  

Taking a deep breath, Nayeon stepped out of the restroom, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. The celebration was still in full swing, the Myoui mansion alive with laughter and music. But as Nayeon scanned the room, her focus narrowed to one person.  

There was Sana, standing in the middle of a small crowd. Strangers surrounded her, all eager to capture her attention, their faces painted with polite smiles and meaningless chatter. Yet, even in the chaos, Sana stood poised, responding with nods and soft words, though her exhaustion was clear.  

The sight stirred something in Nayeon—a mixture of frustration and curiosity. For so long, she had avoided knowing more about Sana, choosing to keep their lives separate. But now, she couldn’t ignore the pull. If she wanted answers, she needed to break through the walls Sana had built around herself.  

Nayeon straightened her posture, her expression hardening with resolve. Slowly, she started walking toward Sana.  

Jeongyeon appeared at her side, her voice laced with confusion. “Where are you going?” she asked, her eyes flicking between Nayeon and the crowd.  

Nayeon didn’t answer. She walked past Jeongyeon without so much as a glance, her focus unshaken.  

The crowd seemed to part as she approached, whispers rippling through the air. The sudden shift in atmosphere caught people’s attention, and soon, all eyes were on Nayeon.  

Sana remained unaware, her back turned to Nayeon as she continued speaking to the guests around her.  

Nayeon’s steps quickened, her heart pounding in her chest. Every nerve in her body was on edge, but she refused to let it show. Her goal was clear, and she wasn’t going to falter now.  

When she reached Sana, she didn’t hesitate. Nayeon reached out and grabbed Sana’s wrist, her fingers wrapping firmly around it.  

Sana gasped, startled by the sudden contact. She turned quickly, her wide eyes meeting Nayeon’s determined gaze. “Nayeon?” she said softly, her voice filled with confusion.  

But Nayeon didn’t let her finish. Without a word, she pulled Sana closer, her arms wrapping around her in a bold, unexpected embrace, as if claiming Sana is her wife and not theirs.  

The room fell silent.  

Guests stared in shock, their murmurs replaced by stunned silence. Nayeon could feel their eyes on her, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the woman in her arms.  

Sana froze, her breath hitching as she processed what was happening. Her hands hovered awkwardly by her sides, unsure whether to push Nayeon away or return the embrace.  

Nayeon tightened her hold, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t fully understand why she was doing this—why this felt like the first step she had to take. But deep down, she knew: if she wanted to uncover every secret, to understand why this marriage existed and why Sana had agreed to it, she needed to start breaking down the walls between them. Let's see what secrets you have, Hirai Sana.

After the wedding ceremony, Nayeon and Sana parted ways as usual. Sana climbed into the Hirai family car with a quiet, distant expression, while Nayeon walked off with Jeongyeon and Jimin, neither of them saying much either. The air was thick with a quiet tension, a stark contrast to the lively ceremony they had just attended. Momo, who had been silently observing the entire event, couldn’t help but glance toward her sister, still thinking about what had just happened during the celebration.

Sana sat silently in the backseat, staring out the window, lost in her thoughts. Momo couldn’t help but notice how distant her sister seemed, her mind clearly elsewhere, even though she was physically there. It wasn’t like Sana to be so out of tune with the present moment.

Momo, sensing her sister’s preoccupation, leaned forward and nudged her, her voice teasing but curious. “So... what was that earlier? You and Nayeon?” she asked, referring to the sudden, surprising hug Nayeon had pulled Sana into during the wedding celebration. “I gotta say, I was pretty entertained. Didn't think I'd ever see the day," she added, trying to keep the mood light, but her amusement showed clearly in her smirk.

But when she looked at her sister, she saw something that stopped her laughter—Sana’s face was all sharp angles, her eyes narrowing into a glare. The playful energy between them immediately shifted. Momo’s smirk faltered as she registered the tension in the air. “What’s with the look?” Momo asked, but she wasn’t sure if she was being too pushy.

Sana let out a long, frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair before speaking. “First of all, I don’t know,” she said, her voice low but edged with something Momo couldn’t quite place. “I don’t know what got into Nayeon. Maybe someone told her to do it. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Momo couldn’t hide her amusement as she leaned back in her seat. “Well, you can’t blame her for shocking you, right? You didn’t seem to be expecting it either.”

Sana didn't answer right away, her face turned to the window, her eyes tracing the blurry lights outside. But Momo’s teasing didn’t seem to land like it usually did. There was something else beneath the surface that was keeping Sana quiet.

Momo, sensing the shift in her sister's mood, didn’t push the subject any further. Instead, she threw out another question, trying to steer the conversation away from what was obviously troubling Sana. “Alright, fine, no more about Nayeon,” Momo said. “But what about tonight? What’s your plan for approaching Park Jihyo at the bar? You’ve got to have something in mind.”

Sana didn't immediately respond, her focus still on the window. Her tone, when it came, was half-hearted. “What plan? I’ll just... go with the flow, I guess,” she said, her voice absent, almost as if she wasn’t really thinking about the situation at all.

Momo raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t like her. Momo knew that tonight wasn’t just another night—it was important. And the fact that Sana wasn’t even planning ahead made her nervous. “Are you seriously not going to prepare? You can’t just show up and wing it, Sana,” Momo pressed, concern creeping into her voice. “What if things don’t go the way you expect? You need a backup plan.”

Sana gave a small, distracted laugh, but it was empty. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just... it’s whatever,” she said, clearly not in the mood to talk strategy. “I’ll call you if something happens, though,” she added, attempting to lighten the mood with a weak joke. “Or, better yet, I’ll probably be the one causing trouble anyway.”

Momo wasn’t fooled by the attempt to cover up the heaviness in Sana’s voice. She glanced at her sister, her heart heavy with the feeling that something deeper was bothering her. Sana hadn’t been herself all day, and Momo had a strong feeling that it had nothing to do with the event or the approaching night. Something else was weighing on her sister’s mind, something she wasn’t ready to say out loud.

Momo let out a soft sigh, the usual lightness between them slipping away. They sat in silence for a few moments, the car ride stretching on as the evening grew darker outside. Momo didn’t know what was really going on with Sana, but the distance between them felt painfully real. The thought that her sister was carrying something so heavy alone made Momo wish she could do more, even if she didn’t know how. The silence in the car was deafening as they continued to drive, with Momo wondering if she’d ever be able to get through to Sana, or if her sister would always keep her distance, lost in whatever thoughts she was keeping to herself.

When the car pulled up outside the bar, the engine quieted to a stop. Suho parked the vehicle carefully on the side of the road, just far enough to blend in with the other parked cars. Sana opened the door and stepped out, closing it with a sharp motion. She didn’t look back as the car drove away, her mind already elsewhere.

The night air was cool, and she could feel it against her skin, but it didn’t bother her. Her thoughts were consumed by one thing, finding Jihyo. Meanwhile Momo, still in the car, who had been playful earlier, now wore a cold, stoic expression. Her eyes narrowed, sharp and focused on her surroundings, scanning the area like a hawk. Momo had always been this way—able to read a situation in a way most couldn’t. 

Momo turned to Suho, her voice low and serious. “Don’t park too far. Keep an eye on the people coming in. I’ll distract the Park’s friend. My sister doesn’t seem to realize who she’s getting involved with.” Suho, who had been focused on the road ahead, nodded without hesitation. 

Back to Sana, her eyes were scanning the crowd inside the bar. The moment she stepped in, the heavy bass of the music seemed to hit her like a wave, drowning out everything else. The smell of alcohol and smoke hung in the air, sharp and unpleasant. She barely noticed the people passing her by, their voices a blur of chatter and laughter. All she cared about was finding one person—Jihyo.

As she pushed her way deeper into the crowd, people kept blocking her path, some giving her sideways glances or a look of disdain that made her skin crawl. But none of that mattered. She ignored them, her focus locked on the area ahead, eyes searching, waiting. She couldn’t afford to waste any time. Jihyo is here, and Sana is determined to find her.

That was when it happened. A man appeared in front of her, his grin wide and insistent as he offered her a glass of champagne. "Hey, would you like to drink and dance with me?" he asked, his voice smooth and almost too eager.

Sana raised an eyebrow, already irritated by the interruption. She was about to turn him down when something caught her eye. In the distance, for just a fleeting moment, she saw her. Jihyo. There was no mistaking it. But just as quickly as she had appeared, Jihyo disappeared into the crowd. Sana’s heart skipped a beat. She had to follow.

Without sparing a second for the man or his drink, Sana shoved him aside with a cold, firm motion. "Move," she said, her tone sharp. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs and curious glances of the people around her. Her focus was solely on Jihyo, who was now just a shadow in the mass of bodies.

She followed the trail, weaving through the crowd until she finally saw Jihyo again. This time, she was standing near the back exit of the bar, her eyes darting around nervously. Jihyo went outside from the exit door as Sana followed close. Jihyo didn’t seem to notice her approach. Her hand was gripping her phone tightly, her breath coming out in quick, shallow bursts. She looked agitated, as though she was trying to call someone but couldn’t get through. It was clear something was wrong.

Sana stopped a few steps away, watching carefully. She didn’t want to alert Jihyo just yet. But the moment felt tense, as if everything were hanging on the edge of something that could go either way. Sana took a deep breath and stepped forward, her voice low but confident as she spoke. “Want some company?” she asked, trying to sound casual, as if she hadn’t been searching for her all night. She even threw in a little sway, pretending to be tipsy, though she hadn’t had a single drink.

Jihyo looked at her, confusion flickering across her face. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Her eyes—cold and intense—locked onto Sana’s, making her stomach tighten. The look in Jihyo’s eyes was sharp, almost warning. It made Sana’s heart race a little faster, but she didn’t back down. Jihyo didn’t seem like the type to entertain anyone, especially not someone like her.

Before either of them could speak again, Jihyo glanced down at her phone, then back up at Sana. But it wasn’t like she was looking at her. It was almost as if she was looking right through her, or maybe around her. Then, in a low and commanding voice, Jihyo said, “You know what? Kiss me.”

Sana froze. The words hit her like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her mind struggled to process what she’d just heard. “Wh—what?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, unsure if she’d heard correctly.

Before she could respond, a creak echoed from the back exit door, cutting through the tension. Jihyo, looking frustrated, bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. She then closed the distance between them, reaching out and pulling Sana closer. Jihyo’s grip was firm, and in one swift motion, her other hand found its way to the back of Sana’s neck, forcing their lips together.

Sana’s breath caught in her throat. It took a moment for her to fully realize what was happening. Her lips were pressed against Jihyo’s, and the shock of it was enough to make her knees feel weak. She tried to pull away, but Jihyo’s hand on her neck held her in place. It was strong, almost possessive, and it left no room for hesitation.

“I know what you want, Miss Hirai,” Jihyo murmured against her lips, her breath warm and steady. “Just go with the flow, right?”

The words made Sana’s heart race even faster. The way Jihyo said it—like she knew something Sana had been planning about. It unsettled her. But before she could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from behind them. Two men, clearly angered by what they were seeing, glared at them. Their eyes were full of frustration and madness. And Sana is unaware of it.

But Jihyo didn’t flinch. Without even breaking the kiss, she glanced at the men, her eyes cold and unwavering. The men clench their jaws, their anger palpable, but after a moment, they turned and stormed off, leaving the two of them alone.

Sana, still in shock, trying to process whatever is happening right now. This isn't what she expected, not what she had planned, never been. Her mind raced. From the intimate moment with Nayeon earlier to now this—this kiss with Jihyo. It was all happening so fast, and she wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. The only thing she could focus on was the overwhelming realization that Jihyo had kissed her, and that this kiss—of all things—was her first.

Jihyo pulled away slowly, her fingers lingering on the back of Sana’s neck for just a second longer before she let go. The cold air between them seemed to shift, thickening with the weight of her words. Sana stood frozen, still trying to process what had just happened. Her heart was pounding, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to find her bearings, her mind still reeling from the kiss.

Jihyo, however, wasn’t fazed. She stood in front of Sana, her expression calm, almost amused. Her lips curled slightly into a soft chuckle, the sound low and almost mocking. It wasn’t unkind, but there was an edge to it—something knowing, something sharper. She didn’t look at Sana with confusion or curiosity, but with the quiet confidence of someone who already had the upper hand.

“You didn't think I’m smart enough to not know what you’re trying to do, did you? Miss Hirai?” Jihyo asked, her voice smooth but laced with an unmistakable authority. She leaned in just slightly, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto Sana’s, searching her face for any sign of weakness. “How do you think your HR knew everything about me and my life when no one could even get close to me?” Her words were slow, deliberate, each one measured, as if she were carefully choosing the pieces of a puzzle that Sana hadn’t even realized was being constructed.

Sana’s breath caught in her throat. The words felt like a punch to her gut, but she didn’t let it show. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Jihyo to see through her so easily. She had been so sure that she was playing her cards well, that she could manipulate the situation to get what she wanted. But now, standing face to face with Jihyo, it felt like she had been caught in a trap of her own making. She could feel the weight of Jihyo’s gaze, the way she seemed to peel back her defenses without even trying.

She tried to speak, but the words were stuck in her throat. She hadn’t planned for this. She hadn’t expected Jihyo to be this aware, this sharp. She had thought she could walk into the bar, make a few moves, and find a way to get closer to Jihyo. But Jihyo was no ordinary person. A presence that demanded attention, and it was clear now that she had been playing her own game all along.

Jihyo’s lips quirked upward again, and for a brief moment, it almost seemed like she was entertained by the confusion written all over Sana’s face. But that amusement didn’t last long. Her eyes darkened as she took a small step back, giving Sana space but still holding her gaze with the same intensity. 

“You think you can just walk in here, pretend like you’re some innocent little pawn in this game, and I wouldn’t notice?” Jihyo continued, her voice low but undeniably firm. “You ordered them to hack my profile, haven’t you? But let me tell you something,” she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering even more, “You don’t get to play me. Not like this.”

The weight of her words hit Sana harder than she expected. The realization dawned on her that everything she had done, every move she had made, had been so transparent to Jihyo. The way she had tried to manipulate the situation, to make Jihyo think she was just another naive girl caught up in the whirlwind of the night, it had all been seen through. Jihyo had known exactly what she was up to from the very beginning.

“Why?” Sana whispered, her voice firm, and raised an eyebrow. “Why did you—why did you kiss me, then?”

Jihyo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she simply stared at Sana for a long moment, her eyes like two dark pools that seemed to pull Sana in deeper with every passing second. Then, with a small, knowing smile, she spoke again.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to play the game, Miss Hirai. I’m just a few steps ahead of you. Dummy”