Chapter 3

The next morning, 9 a.m.

I stood in front of the Executive Director’s office in the Strategic Planning Division, gripping the doorknob like a cow being dragged to a slaughterhouse.

The cold metal handle was slippery from the cold sweat on my palm.

Once I go inside, it’s over.

The memory of what happened in the break room last night flashed through my mind like a film.

His offer to arrange 300 million won for me.

And his words about putting my soul up as collateral.

Because of that offer, I hadn’t slept a wink.

I had spent the entire night wide awake, calculating loan interest, searching for auction procedures, and trying to track down the figurehead landlord.

There was only one conclusion.

I can’t escape this swamp on my own.

“Phew…”

I let out a trembling breath and opened the door.

At the far end of the room, I saw Executive Director Kang Seo-jun sitting at his desk.

He didn’t even raise his head because he was busy signing approval documents.

Scratch, scratch.

The sound of his fountain pen moving across the paper was the only thing filling the silence.

I stood in front of him like a criminal.

“You’re here.”

He put down his fountain pen with a small tap, took out an envelope from his drawer, and pushed it across the table.

“Sit.”

I awkwardly sat down.

The moment I checked what was inside, my heart dropped.

[Personnel Record: Marketing Team 1, Lee Da-eun]

[Company Loan Application: Rejected]

[Credit Score Inquiry History]

There was even a copy of the fraud report I had filed with the police regarding my jeonse deposit.

My face instantly grew hot.

I felt completely exposed.

My poverty, my failure, and my desperation had all been printed out plainly on sheets of A4 paper.

“What… is this?”

My voice trembled.

Executive Director Kang looked at the documents with his fingers interlocked.

“Basic analysis of an investment target.”

“Investment…?”

“If I’m going to lend you 300 million won, I need to check your collateral value.”

He looked me over as if he were inspecting a defective product that had been returned.

“You’re diligent. Five years since joining the company. No lateness. Top 10 percent in performance evaluations. Good reputation among your coworkers.”

His voice was gentle, but it didn’t sound like praise.

It sounded more like:

You’re an obedient slave who’s easy to control.

“But your financial situation is a mess.”

He pressed exactly where it hurt.

“Your entire fortune has disappeared into thin air. You don’t even have enough money for the deposit on your next home, and you’re already worried about next month’s credit card bill, aren’t you?”

I couldn’t argue.

It was true.

Overwhelmed by shame, I lowered my head and clenched my fists on my lap.

My fingernails dug deeply into my palms, but I couldn’t even feel the pain.

“Let’s get to the point.”

He leaned forward.

The heavy pressure he gave off seemed to weigh down the air.

“My offer from yesterday still stands.”

“What are the conditions?”

I forced my dry lips apart.

There was no such thing as free money.

And there was certainly no way the third-generation heir to a chaebol family was a philanthropist.

“Marriage.”

“…What?”

“More precisely, a legal marriage registration.”

Executive Director Kang took out another document.

The title [Notice Regarding the Execution of the Will] was visible.

“It was Chairman Kang Man-seok’s condition. In order to pass the final stage of succession to the group, I have to get married and establish a family.”

His voice was brutally businesslike, as if he were explaining the conditions of an M&A contract.

“The term is exactly one year. The succession process will be completed within that time. Afterward, we can get a clean divorce.”

His calm tone made me swallow nervously.

Even if it was only on paper, I would still be the daughter-in-law of a chaebol family.

“But… if I become your wife, wouldn’t I have to appear in the media or attend official events? I’m just an ordinary office worker. I don’t think I could handle my personal information being spread all over the internet.”

He gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Don’t misunderstand. What I need is the legal title of ‘family,’ not a show-window partner to share the spotlight with me.”

He pointed to a section of the document.

“Your identity will be kept completely private. No media exposure. No annoying company events that you have to attend with me. You will simply exist on my family registry like a ghost.”

“…So I only have to sign the paperwork?”

“No. There is one exception.”

His eyes became cold.

“Family events. You must attend them and play the role of a perfect wife.”

“Family events…?”

“My grandfather. Chairman Kang Man-seok.”

Avoiding his suspicion was the key to this entire project and your only mission.

“Other than that, I won’t interfere with whatever you do.”

“Ha…”

I couldn’t believe it.

A contract marriage, something I had only ever seen in dramas.

But I couldn’t laugh at the absurdity.

My situation was even more ridiculous than a drama.

Trying to suppress my hollow feelings, I carefully asked,

“Why me?”

“There are three reasons.”

He raised one finger at a time as he spoke.

“First, you’re an employee of the company, so your identity is guaranteed. Second, you’re desperately short on money right now, so you don’t have time to think about anything else.”

He stared directly at me.

Then he gave a faint, cynical smile and raised his final finger.

“Third, there is no chance of emotional involvement. You don’t see me as a man. You see me as the person with the money.”

I couldn’t deny it.

My reality was far too miserable for me to feel excitement or romantic feelings.

To me, he wasn’t a man.

He was the only escape route I had found at the edge of a cliff.

“In exchange, I’ll fully compensate you for the 300 million won you lost in the jeonse fraud.”

Another sheet of paper slid across the table.

It showed a photograph of a luxury apartment complex in Gangnam.

“And one more thing. If the contract ends successfully after one year, I’ll transfer this apartment into your name as compensation.”

“…What?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

Three hundred million won wasn’t enough?

He was also offering me an apartment worth tens of billions of won.

“However, payment will be made when the contract ends one year from now.”

“What? One year from now?”

“Your identity is trustworthy, but I don’t know whether you’ll be able to endure this contract until the end.”

Executive Director Kang added coldly,

“If I give you everything in advance and you quit halfway through, I’ll be the one in trouble. Think of it as a safety device.”

“Then what about now? I understand that you’ll give me the money after one year, but what am I supposed to do about the loan interest I have to pay right now? And I don’t even have anywhere to live.”

“I’ll provide room and board. If we’re going to pretend to be a married couple, you’ll have to live in my house anyway.”

He casually gestured toward the documents.

“And the bank loan interest that’s choking you. I’ll pay it for one year. After the contract ends, you can use the money I give you to pay back the principal.”

Three hundred million won.

An apartment worth tens of billions.

Free room and board.

And my loan interest paid for an entire year.

The moment those conditions sank into my mind, the calculator in my head started running wildly.

The immediate problem of finding money for a new deposit would be gone.

I’d save the brutal interest payments I had to make every month.

Then, after one year, I’d receive 300 million won and pay off my debt in one lump sum.

After that, I’d move into the apartment I’d received as compensation.

Gulp.

I swallowed dryly.

Pride?

Morals?

Those were luxuries for people who could afford them.

Tomorrow, my credit card might be blocked, and I might have to wander from one tiny one-room rental to another.

If my mother found out, she might collapse from the shock.

If I simply closed my eyes and let myself be sold, everything would be solved.

Most importantly, all I had to do was legally register the marriage, and after one year, I’d receive an enormous amount of money.

But…

Can I really receive this much just for registering a marriage?

My last bit of pride slammed on the brakes.

I had spent my entire life honestly working for my money.

I had never depended on someone else’s kindness.

Three hundred million won plus an apartment.

If I simply accepted that absurd amount of money, I felt as if I would have to crawl at this man’s feet for the rest of my life.

“Are you refusing?”

Perhaps he had taken my silence as a rejection.

His brows narrowed.

I raised my head and looked directly at him.

“No. I’ll do it.”

I took a breath.

“The marriage.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“A wise decision. Then I’ll immediately contact a lawyer…”

“However, I have a condition.”

I calmly interrupted him before he could finish.

A faint expression crossed his face, as if he couldn’t believe someone in my position would dare to set conditions.

“I won’t simply take the money.”

“This is clearly a contract payment. I hate feeling like I owe someone something because they gave me something for free. I hate that more than anything.”

“Then?”

“I’ll pay it back through my work.”

I quickly calculated the value in my head.

“Three hundred million won worth of labor.”

I continued.

“Payment for acting as the daughter-in-law of a chaebol family. Additional payment for attending family events at night and on weekends. And hazard pay for the invasion of my privacy.”

“……”

“For one year, I’ll be your perfect business partner and wife.”

I deliberately put on a confident expression and drove the point home.

“I’m saying you should get the full value of the 300 million won you’re paying for me. I’ll make sure you never feel like you’ve lost money.”

Kang Seo-jun let out a hollow laugh, as if he found the idea ridiculous.

“Lost money?”

“Yes. I don’t accept free money. I want to receive 300 million won as fair payment for my labor. That way… I think I’ll feel less pathetic.”

My voice became slightly wet with tears.

He stared at me without saying anything.

His cold eyes seemed to soften.

Just a little.

Very slightly.

“Fine. I accept.”

He pressed the intercom.

“Secretary Kim. I’m going to the law firm. Have the car ready.”

In the back seat of the luxury sedan, where even the air felt different, suffocating silence filled the space.

The Seoul cityscape passing outside the window felt unfamiliar.

Only yesterday, this city had felt like hell.

But inside this car, it was strangely peaceful, without a single sound from outside.

Hell and heaven were separated by nothing more than a car window.

Kang Seo-jun, sitting beside me, was looking at his tablet.

We were close enough that our shoulders could almost touch.

The cool scent coming from him filled the car.

I nervously swallowed several times.

How much time had passed?

The car smoothly came to a stop.

Soon, we were guided into a conference room at a large law firm in Seocho-dong.

The long table and rows of chairs looked so serious that the room felt almost intimidating.

I carefully sat down.

A thick stack of documents was placed on the table.

[Marital Property Agreement]

[Loan Agreement]

[Confidentiality Agreement]

The lawyer mechanically went through the main clauses of the contracts.

There was a clause stating that neither party could claim a division of property upon divorce.

Another stated that neither party could interfere in the other’s private life during the contract period.

And the final clause was particularly frightening.

If either party violated the contract, the penalty would be 900 million won, three times the amount of the support payment.

900 million won.

My breath caught.

It meant they were completely blocking any possible way to run away.

“Please sign.”

Kang Seo-jun signed the contract first with his fountain pen.

His movements were elegant and cold, without the slightest hesitation.

Now it was my turn.

My fingertips holding the stamp had turned white.

The moment I stamped this paper, the ordinary life of Assistant Manager Lee Da-eun from the Marketing Team would come to an end.

All that would remain was the label of Kang Seo-jun’s fake wife and a 300-million-won employee.

I looked down at the tip of the stamp covered in red ink.

It was an incredibly expensive contract that would place my entire life as collateral.

Still… I have to live.

I tightly closed my eyes and pressed down.

Press.

A clear red mark appeared on the paper like an irreversible brand.

“The contract is officially established.”

The lawyer gathered the documents and left.

Only Kang Seo-jun and I remained in the conference room.

I fidgeted with my fingers in the awkward silence.

Then he stood up first.

“Pack your things and move in today.”

“W-What? Today? I haven’t mentally prepared myself yet…”

“I hate wasting time.”

He checked his watch and headed toward the door.

I swallowed a sigh as I watched his broad back disappear without even turning around.

Right. What’s done is done.

He’s no longer my boss.

No, to be exact, he’s my employer.

I jumped up from my seat and followed him.

Then I called out to him from behind.

“Please take good care of me, boss!”

He stopped and turned around.

His brows were drawn together.

“Let’s settle how we address each other.”

“Pardon?”

“Other people can hear you. Don’t call me ‘boss.’”

Ah, right.

We’re married.

I awkwardly forced my stiff tongue to move.

It felt as though I were chewing on grains of sand.

“Please take good care of me… Seo-jun.”

The voice that came out of my mouth didn’t even sound like mine.

It was stiff and unnatural, like I was reading from a textbook.

Perhaps he didn’t like my tone.

Kang Seo-jun’s eyebrow twitched.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted into a faint, cynical smile.

“Fine. Let’s do our best, wife.”

A chill ran down my entire body at the word wife.

There wasn’t even one gram of sweetness in that title.

Instead, it carried the full weight of 300 million won.

And so, my dangerous and expensive double life began.