Chapter 21
The unusually clear, black pupils stared straight at Yoonjae without blinking.
“Mr. Ha Yoonjae.”
When her red lips called his name, he pulled his gaze away from the woman he had been staring at as though entranced.
It was an uncharacteristic action.
“Should I say it’s nice to meet you?”
Her tone carried ease, accompanied by a smile.
Her outfit—a sharply tailored two-piece paired with glittering accessories—was elegant yet flamboyant, matching well with her healthy bronze skin.
She had arrived ten minutes early, and without the slightest awkwardness, she studied him before opening her red lips again.
“My father said I’d like you once I met you. Now I understand what he meant. He was right.”
The confidence in her voice made Yoonjae tilt his head.
“Am I being treated like merchandise?”
“Of course not.”
She immediately denied it, but after shifting her eyes aside briefly, she shrugged.
“No, maybe I am. But I’m also someone put up on the shelf, too.”
So neither of us should feel wronged.
Even if she didn’t finish the thought, Yoonjae could easily fill in the rest.
With a light smile, she took a sip of fragrant coffee and asked:
“How do I look in your eyes, Mr. Ha Yoonjae?”
Without knowing what kind of answer she expected, Yoonjae gave the first honest thought that came to him.
“You look like a person. Not merchandise.”
Somehow, saying so felt right.
Even though it was clearly a mocking jab, she smiled without offense. He had judged her correctly in just that short time, so there was no need to circle around.
“Are we going to get married?”
In a meeting like this, arranged without the participants’ consent, only one thing mattered.
For the first time, her smile faded. She drank another sip of coffee and, as if reading words from a page, spoke smoothly and without emotion.
“As things stand? We didn’t even know and we’re already engaged, so marriage will follow soon enough. Your mother already contacted me.”
“……”
“She asked me to take care of her son.”
“Her son.”
Breaking his silence, Yoonjae latched onto her words.
His body, until then sitting upright, leaned back, and indifference settled over his expression.
“You must already know I’m the child born outside.”
Speaking aloud the open secret that no one dared to mention, Yoonjae let out a short, derisive laugh.
“Do you also know I lived without even being recorded in the family registry, and that now I sit here to play errand boy for my half-brother?”
It could have sounded like self-pity, but his face betrayed none of that.
“Is that something I need to care about? My mother’s a stepmother too. And I have a half-sibling as well.”
“Good for you. Life as a bastard is harder than one would think.”
“……”
Her eyes twitched faintly at what was less a warning than a rebuke not to compare recklessly.
With a soundless, bitter laugh, she drained the lukewarm coffee.
“Let’s wrap this up. Next time we’ll share a meal, and after that, we’ll be married.”
The mocking smile aimed at someone hid behind her cup, while Yoonjae lifted his own.
Oil and water. Bastard and half-blood.
Coming from opposite extremes, they had coincidentally met in the same place—only to share the exact same thought.
Worst.
That was the first meeting of two fiancés who had never even spoken before.
Silence lingered in the living room.
Without exchanging words or even glances, she knelt politely on the carpet before the sofa.
Coming home slightly earlier than usual after an early departure, Yoonjae could not help but ask when he saw the absurd scene awaiting him.
“What are you doing?”
Sitting like a child being punished, she obediently answered:
“Confessing my sins.”
“Do you have that much free time?”
“…Sorry?”
“You seem to have plenty of energy for useless nonsense.”
The blunt words almost made her lips jut out in protest.
But complaint had no place in a posture of repentance.
As she remained in her humble position, he offered a dry observation.
“You’re sincerely apologizing, then?”
“For what, exactly?”
Damn.
Feeling sweat bead at her temples, she pushed up her glasses. The now-familiar gesture cleared her vision slightly, easing her nerves a little.
Gulp. She swallowed hard, replaying the events of the previous night in her mind without pause.
[Slow down… you’re too fast…]
[Do you even realize the nonsense you’re spouting?]
[…I don’t want to go… it really tastes awful…]
[There’s too much ugliness in the world. Really, far too much.]
[So you must never become ugly.]
Enough.
After getting drunk for the first time in her life and throwing a messy fit, she had woken up late the next day. The victim who had witnessed her drunken disgrace had already gone off to work.
With no excuses left, she carefully raised her hands.
“Should I put my hands up too?”
She almost did so at once, but instead licked her dry lips and tried an explanation—no, an excuse.
“I’ve never been drunk before. I’m not normally someone who rambles nonsense like that. Really. Truly.”
Of course, she knew better than anyone that running her mouth would bring no good.
Like a meditating monk, Yoonjae stayed silent, watching her before asking:
“That’s all?”
“…Sorry?”
Her round eyes blinked in confusion, not understanding. He smirked.
“Selective memory, how convenient.”
What does he mean?
She blinked rapidly, lost, while he clicked his tongue silently.
Because of a useless dream.
After laying her drunken body across his chest for a while, he had drifted to sleep himself—only to dream of his first meeting with Go Woo-ri.
Maybe it was because his mind had already been restless, but even his dream had been unsettled. Looking now at the girl kneeling before him, he once again focused on her small lips and eyes.
Perhaps it was those round, clear black pupils behind her glasses.
When she removed them, her eyes looked even bigger, reminding him of Go Woo-ri. If she appeared in his dream, then he too had been left with a lingering unease.
That was why cold sweat ran down her back.
Why is he staring at me like that…
Even if she tried to play the part of someone innocent, her guilt had limits.
She was just about to raise her hand in apology when he asked:
“How did you get in there?”
Thankfully, it was the question she expected.
She answered with brazen confidence.
“Feminine charms.”
“…What?”
“Because I’m pretty. Small, fair, and precious.”
From an objective, third-person standpoint, even if her glasses hid it, she thought it wasn’t such a bad assessment.
He didn’t bother to reply to her shameless self-praise.
“When you’re done babbling, come to the study.”
A clean dismissal—but she didn’t seem bothered as she got to her feet.
“So you’re letting this slide? Are we making up? Should we—ah! My legs are numb!”
After kneeling only five minutes, she flopped onto the sofa, massaging her legs. Yoonjae ignored her and opened the study door.
As he set down his bag and removed his jacket, she followed quickly, holding the doorframe.
“Why?”
He pointed to a sheet of paper on the desk instead of answering.
She stepped lightly inside, picked it up, and read.
“Contract clauses.”
It was the very document she herself had drafted not long ago. Her eyes widened as she looked back at him.
“Within reason.”
The condition he stated was simple yet firm. She looked down at the paper again.
At first, she had thought to fill it seriously, but it was meaningless. Since marriage was already in motion, the bigger picture wouldn’t change.
Because there’s no love.
This marriage, devoid of feeling, had an inevitable end. And afterward, she would go on living.
After a short thought, she picked up a pen.
“One clause should be enough.”
Without hesitation, she wrote slowly and clearly, making sure he could read.
“Guarantee me basic human rights.”
Thankfully, he didn’t attach any special meaning to her clumsy handwriting.
“What do you mean?”
“Just what it says. We both know who holds the power here, but this is still a contract between us. I just don’t want to be treated like a puppet, or a doll, or a tool.”
It was a small effort to claim some dignity in a situation where her rights were practically nonexistent.
Ugly handwriting aside, the clause was sensible. Yoonjae nodded.
“As long as you don’t cross my line.”
“And what line is that?”
“The paper.”
She tilted her head in confusion as he wrote something on the paper.
When he handed it back, the first thing she noticed was his elegant penmanship, refined enough to be admired.
But before she could dwell on that, her lips pressed tight as she read the words.
“Do not lie.”
A sudden pang struck her chest. Her eyes wavered, but Yoonjae, not noticing, spoke plainly.
“This is the line I set.”
