Rinwoo sat on the cold floor of his bedroom, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself as if that could stop the ache spreading through him like wildfire.
His mind, traitorous and loud, pulled him back to that day the day everything started.
TWO YEARS AGO
The day of the wedding.
The Lee estate had been a mess of gold drapes, fresh flowers, and nervous excitement. Guests were arriving, whispers already buzzing about the grand arranged marriage between the heir of the Lee family and the quiet, soft-spoken Rinwoo.
But something was wrong.
People were panicking. Voices echoing through the halls.
"Where's the groom?"
"Has anyone seen Taekyun?"
"The ceremony starts in ten minutes!"
Rinwoo, with trembling fingers curled around his sleeves, had heard it all. He knew where Taekyun might be. Something inside him just… knew.
So he walked outside to the garden. Quietly. No one noticed him slip away.
And that's when he saw them.
Beneath the cherry blossom tree.
Yuna her arms tightly wrapped around Taekyun, her face buried in his shoulder, sobbing so hard it broke the air.
"Why are you doing this?" she cried. "Why are you marrying him? Let's run away. We still can. Please, Tae…"
Taekyun didn't speak.
He just held her.
Rinwoo stood there, frozen in place, air knocked out of his lungs.
They didn't see him at first.
Then Taekyun opened his eyes.
And saw him.
Yuna turned, startled, wiping her face quickly like she'd been caught in a crime.
And Rinwoo?
He didn't cry.
He didn't flinch.
He smiled soft, tired, almost apologetic.
He took a step back, voice quiet and steady. "Everyone's looking for you, Taekyun. You should hurry. Decide what you want to do."
That was all he said.
No begging. No guilt-tripping. No anger.
Just quiet acceptance.
Then he turned and walked away, heart cracking with every step, but he never looked back.
Taekyun had walked into that wedding hall not long after.
His face unreadable.
His jaw tight.
He never said a word about Yuna.
Never once looked at Rinwoo when he said, "I do."
He did it only because of the curse.
And from that moment on, Rinwoo knew
Taekyun hated him.
Because in his eyes, Rinwoo wasn't a person.
He was the wall that stood between him and the woman he loved.
Back in the present, Rinwoo wiped his eyes, the memory still burning fresh behind his lids. His chest felt tight. Suffocating.
"I never wanted to take her place," he whispered to the empty room. "I never even wanted this marriage…"
But fate didn't care.
And Taekyun?
He'd never seen Rinwoo as anything more than a cruel necessity.
Just a curse in human form.
Meanwhile, across town at a dimly lit VIP bar that reeked of expensive perfume, smoke, and bad decisions, Taemin was in his usual element.
The music was loud, bass thumping hard enough to rattle your ribs, the air hazy with smoke and neon. Bodies moved like liquid on the dance floor half femboys, half models, all dangerously hot and high.
Taemin was halfway gone, a drink in one hand, a vape in the other, legs spread on a velvet couch while two different people clung to his arms like he was a god they were worshipping. Mingyu, his friend, was right next to him, shouting over the music, already laughing at nothing.
"Man, you're living!" Mingyu yelled.
Taemin grinned lazily, flicking ash off the tip of his cigarette, already bored of the two clinging to him.
And then he saw him.
A guy sitting alone at the bar glass after glass of something dark in front of him, eyes empty, lips pressed into a tight line like he was trying not to fall apart right there.
Interesting.
Taemin stood, brushing the hands off him with zero guilt, and strutted over to the bar like he owned the place. He slid onto the stool next to the guy, leaned on the counter with a cocky grin and said, "Yo. You drink like a man trying to forget his soul."
The guy didn't even flinch.
So Taemin tried again, reaching into his jacket and casually offering him a cigarette. "Kim Taemin," he said smoothly, not even blinking. "Just a regular guy who hates his rich parents."
It was a lie, of course.
He was Lee Taemin youngest son of the Lee family, future heir if he ever stopped being a trainwreck. But no one at the bar needed to know that.
The guy finally glanced sideways, his gaze dark and tired. He took the cigarette without a word and lit it.
"Juwon," he muttered. "Park Juwon."
Taemin tilted his head, smirking. "Ah… Park. As in the Park family? The one that owns half of Gangnam?"
Juwon didn't answer. Just exhaled smoke like it was the only thing holding him together.
Taemin leaned back on his stool, watching him closely. "You look like you wanna die or f**k someone. Maybe both."
Juwon let out a dry chuckle the kind that doesn't reach your eyes. "Maybe."
Taemin grinned. "Same."
They sat in that haze of smoke and neon for a while not talking much, just drinking in silence like two guys who had too much shit bottled up and no one left to unload it on.
Eventually, Taemin pulled his phone out and shoved it toward Juwon. "Put your number in."
Juwon didn't move. "Why?"
Taemin blinked at him. "So I can spam you with memes at 3AM and emotionally damage you slowly over time."
Juwon scoffed. "Hard pass."
But Taemin didn't back down. "C'mon, Juwonie," he said, grinning like the devil in silk. "You already smoked my cigarette. Just give me the number."
With a tired sigh and a muttered, "Persistent little shit," Juwon gave in and typed his number in. Taemin saved it with a heart emoji and zero shame.
Before either of them could say anything else, Juwon's phone buzzed violently on the counter.
He looked at the caller ID, his jaw tightening instantly.
"F**k," he muttered, grabbing his phone and standing. "I gotta go."
"Daddy Park calling?" Taemin teased.
But Juwon wasn't laughing. His eyes were colder now. "Something like that."
And just like that, he was gone pushing through the crowd like he didn't belong there in the first place.
Taemin leaned against the bar, swirling the last of his drink, a lazy smirk still tugging at his lips like he wasn't fazed.
His friend Mingyu sauntered over, already tipsy and nosy.
"You pull that guy too?" he asked, nudging Taemin with his elbow. "He looked like the type that'd ghost you mid-kiss."
Taemin just chuckled, still staring at the door Juwon had disappeared through. "Nah. He's worse."
"Worse?"
Taemin nodded slowly, almost to himself. "His eyes… the way they looked at me? Sh*t. That guy's not a fling, Mingyu. He's a walking heartbreak. His intoxicating eyes touched my f**king heart."
Mingyu gagged. "Ew, who are you? Since when do you have a heart?"
Taemin didn't answer.
He just smiled the kind of smile that said he's in deep already and he knows it'll ruin him.
And he liked it.
The next morning rolled around like every other cold, sterile, and quiet in the Lee estate.
Rinwoo didn't come downstairs again.
His room smelled faintly of fever meds and tears. He had barely slept. His pillow was still damp, chest still tight, and the weight behind his eyes felt like lead. But he didn't want anyone to worry. Not that anyone would.
Downstairs, breakfast was already halfway through. The long dining table was filled with suits and murmurs about company shares, merger strategies, and international clients. Laughter even slipped out once not directed at Rinwoo, of course.
No one even noticed he wasn't there.
When he did finally shuffle in, pale and disoriented, gripping the railing like it might collapse under him not a single person looked up.
No one.
Except Taekyun.
Just as he was about to leave.
Their eyes met for a moment. A flash of something passed between them concern? Pity? Resentment? Who knew anymore.
Then Rinwoo's knees buckled slightly.
Taekyun's hand moved fast. "Call the doctor," he said to a nearby maid.
Then, just like that he turned and left off to another day of being the perfect heir. The perfect CEO. The perfect man.
Rinwoo watched him go, throat burning, lips trembling.
He saw me about to collapse. Again. Not even a single word?
But he didn't cry. Not now.
He sat down slowly, breathing through the pain stabbing behind his eyes. One of the servants nervously placed a soft porridge in front of him.
He just stared at it.
He wouldn't date behind my back… right? No. No, he wouldn't.
We're married. He made a vow. Even if it was forced. Even if he hates me… he wouldn't—
But his hands trembled.
Because deep down, something was telling him the truth. The kind that hurts to admit.
Meanwhile, across town in a private, tucked-away café reserved only for those rich enough to pretend guilt doesn't exist, Taekyun sat at his usual table.
And Yuna, dressed in expensive heels and an even more expensive smile, rushed to greet him like nothing was wrong in the world.
"Babe," she purred, arms wrapping around him as she kissed his lips.
He let it happen. Let her sit across from him. Let her curl her fingers around his wrist and call him "babe" in that sugar-sweet tone she always used.
"You've been so busy," she pouted. "I feel like I'm not your priority anymore."
"You know that's not true," Taekyun said automatically.
"It feels true," she said, poking her lower lip out. "You barely text. Barely call."
He sighed. "The company's a mess right now. You know that."
"I know, I know…" She leaned forward, voice dropping into a whisper. "But I still want to feel special. Even just a little."
He nodded like he understood.
Their coffee came. A croissant. Her favorite strawberry pastry.
She giggled while tearing it in half. "Also… baby?"
He looked up.
"My card got declined yesterday," she said with a dramatic whine. "Can you believe that? I mean, I needed that dress. I've got literally nothing left to shop with."
Taekyun didn't blink. Didn't ask questions. Didn't hesitate.
He pulled out his phone and transferred the money. Not a little, a lot.
Yuna's eyes lit up as her phone chimed. "Thank you, love," she smiled, leaning over the table. "You're the best."
He smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Because somewhere deep in his chest, something felt tight. Like he was building a house of cards that was one breath away from collapsing.
The heavy iron gates of the Hong estate creaked open as Mr. Lee's sleek black car pulled in. He stepped out in his usual crisp suit, cold as ever, his expression unreadable. A servant guided him through the marbled halls until he reached the study, where Mr. Hong stood waiting with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Old friend," Mr. Hong greeted, shaking his hand firmly. "It's been too long."
Mr. Lee sat down without wasting time on small talk. "Let's talk about the match."
Mr. Hong raised an eyebrow but didn't act surprised. "So it's true then… one of your sons?"
"Daon," Mr. Lee said flatly. "Master Hwang confirmed it. His fated match is your boy Eunjae."
There was a long pause before Mr. Lee continued, his tone dropping to a businesslike chill. "If you convince your son to marry mine, I'll wipe your family's debt clean. No repayment. No records. Gone."
It was brutal honesty. No fake warmth. Just cold strategy.
Mr. Hong leaned back, absorbing the weight of it but then slowly nodded. "You really are ruthless," he chuckled. "But... I won't lie that's a tempting offer. I'll speak to him. If it's fate… maybe it's time."
They sipped tea, talking casually after that, the way men do when there's millions hanging in the air and neither of them wants to flinch first.
And then
Boom.
The door slammed open.
Eunjae strode in, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing. He didn't even glance at Mr. Lee at first just locked eyes with his father.
"You're talking about my marriage without me?" His voice was sharp, furious.
Mr. Hong cleared his throat, trying to keep things calm. "Eunjae, this is Mr. Lee. You've met before—"
"I know who he is," Eunjae snapped, now turning toward Mr. Lee like he wanted to fight him right there. "He's the man who trapped us in that fake-ass investment deal ten years ago. The one who ruined us and then offered a hand only to keep his foot on our throat."
Mr. Lee's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak.
"And now you want me to marry into that family?" Eunjae spat, his voice rising. "You want me to thank him? To become his puppet?"
"Eunjae, enough," Mr. Hong warned, standing now.
"No, let me finish!" he shouted. "Why is it always about saving face? About bending to his family? You think I forgot how he humiliated us how you drank yourself to sleep for a year trying to fix what he did?"
Mr. Lee finally spoke. Calm. Dagger-sharp.
"You speak with a child's anger. Not a man's logic. It is fate, You would be wise to respect it."
"Respect? You don't get to lecture me about respect. You destroyed our name and now you want to own it!"
That was the last straw.
SLAP.
The crack of Mr. Hong's palm meeting Eunjae's cheek echoed through the room.
Eunjae froze.
Mr. Hong's voice was low but trembling with fury. "You will not speak like that in front of me. Or him. I raised you better."
For a moment, Eunjae looked like a kid again wounded, betrayed. But he said nothing. Just clenched his jaw, eyes glassy but defiant.
Mr. Lee stood up, straightening his cuffs, expression unreadable.
"I will wait for your son's apology," he said icily, glancing between them. "If it comes… perhaps I'll still honor the offer."
And with that, he walked out not angry, just disgusted. And done.
Eunjae stood there, silent, cheek red, breathing hard. Mr. Hong sat down heavily, rubbing his face with his hands.
Silence fell again in the room.
But it wasn't peace.