Jae hyun's POV
"You had just six months to get married, and now your time is near, Jae hyun."
My grandfather said it like he was stating a fact, which of course he was because there was no drama, no mercy. The boardroom went quiet . Kang Dae-hyun sat at the head of the table, hands folded, looking like he'd already signed my fate and his signature counted more than my life.
"You have very little time left if you don't want to get kicked out of my legacy," he repeated. "And you will produce an heir. This is non-negotiable. The company's public image depends on it."
I kept my voice level because losing my temper in front of this room would hand them the moment they wanted. "So let me get this straight," I said. "I marry a stranger, have a child I don't choose, and wrap this up in less than few weeks. And if I fail?"
"You will not fail, trust me you do not want to fail," he said flatly. No softness. No compromise.
My fingers dug into the wood of the table without me meaning to. The chair creaked when I shifted. Around me the board members shuffled papers and pretended to work. One of them cleared his throat like he'd swallowed an apology.
"This is about image," I said. "Not family. Not me. Optics. PR." I didn't smile. I let the words sit there, sharp and dry. He wanted obedience. He wanted to reduce my life to a corporate asset.
"Yes." He didn't look ashamed. He sounded pleased, like a man who had solved a problem.
"Who chooses?" I asked. It was a question that mattered. Who picked the woman? Who decided my life would be public theater?
"The family and the board will propose candidates," he said. "You may accept one, or get one yourself."
I laughed without humor. It came out low. "Accept. Right. Because my opinion is charming background noise."
A junior director tried to speak. "Sir, perhaps…"
"Silence," Grandfather said. One word. The board sank back into silence like it had been taught.
I let my jaw unclench slowly. Anger didn't have to be loud. It could be a steady burn. I had always been the one who controlled the room in other ways; now I would find a way to control this.
"Fine," I said finally. "I'll do what's necessary."
It tasted like defeat. It felt like a promise I'd never meant to keep.
***
Min Jae's POV
I picked up my phone when I left the building and let it ring until voicemail answered. My sister's number sat in my contacts like a heavy weight. The bill for her surgery blinked in my head the way a warning light blinks when something is about to break. The city had swallowed our savings, and the clinic had swallowed our pride. I had a list of numbers that decided whether she lived a full life or a life with limits.
At home the apartment smelled of instant noodles and cheap detergent. I dropped onto the couch and scrolled through the estimates again. The numbers blurred. I rubbed my eyes and told myself breathing was a skill I needed to remember.
Lee Soo-jae crashed through the door like a good idea that should have stayed out in the rain. He flopped down next to me with the grin of a person who thinks rules exist to be bent.
"You look like garbage," he said. "I brought you something."
"Is it pizza?" I asked.
"No." He held his phone up, thumb already moving. "This. Listen up. I don't know if you'll like of which you have to cuz you don't have a choice but I saw something. Dark web tip. Contract Brides. Big cash prize. Enough to cover surgery. Enough to set you up."
I studied him. He was half proud, half dangerous in that way that made me trust him and hate trusting him at the same time. "Contract brides?"
"Yeah. You can enter. And you can win. You get paid." He watched my face like he was waiting for a confession.
"You do realize only girls are allowed," I said slowly, counting the ways this could be a joke or a trap.
"That's why it's perfect," Soo-jae said. "You have the right look. Slim, small, you pass. Nobody will suspect a thing. You can do the whole contestant act." His voice stopped being a joke. It was a plan.
I looked into the dark screen of his phone and imagined a stage, lights, cameras, a crowd that would clap for someone they didn't know while my sister lay waiting for surgery. The thought didn't fit in my chest. It fit in my hands, in the way I curled my fingers around the phone like a tool.
I am slim. I have been slim my whole life; narrow shoulders, small frame, pretty eyes with long eyelids, and my lips… well I had quick hands too that learn how to fix things a little faster than they should. My hair hung long and straight down my back. It's the kind of hair people notice and forget because it doesn't shout. My face is the kind that doesn't scare people, the kind people talk to and tell secrets to after an hour.
People in the neighborhood thought I couldn't handle much. They saw my small body and my quiet voice and assumed I was harmless. It was a mistake they made often, and one I had used more than once.
We left the village when I was twelve. The bus ride was full of dust and other people's sadness. I remember my mother's hands on my shoulder, her thumb rubbing the back of my neck because she thought it would keep us calm. My father sat silent, watching the road. My sister slept in my lap until she woke up terrified because the city had lights that never went out and noise that never stopped. We left behind a tiny house with a sagging roof and a yard where chickens wandered. We left behind neighbors who said our names like prayers. The city took everything else.
I learned quick in the city. How to fold my voice so it didn't draw attention. How to work two shifts and keep my grades. How to hide a bruise. How to count pennies until they formed enough for a meal. The village taught me what hunger felt like. The city taught me what pretending felt like.
"If I do this," I said, "I can't screw up. One mistake and I'll go to jail, my sister will die."
"Then don't make one," Soo-jae said. "Let's create a person. A backstory. A rich heiress with some isses. You can practice every laugh, every look. You get handlers, stylists, everything. You go in and play the role."
We sat with the idea like it was a dangerous fruit. It smelled good. It might take my sister's surgery money or it might be a trap that led to worse. But the numbers on the bill didn't care about risk. They wanted payment.
"How do I even start?" I asked.
"You start by making them believe," he said. "Name, family, job, hobbies nothing real that can be checked easily. Not like your real name is even known. A past that fits. A smile that opens at camera angles. You learn to move your hands like you think a girl would move them on TV."
I imagined the cameras and the crowd and the moment where a host asked a personal question and I had to produce a laugh that sounded real. I imagined my sister waking from surgery with a bandage on her side and my phone showing the wire transfer. That image left no room for doubt.
"Okay," I said. My voice was low. "Okay. Tell me everything you saw."
Soo-jae leaned in and started listing details. He talked fast, precise, as if reading a map. He showed me the site, the prize amounts, the dates. Only girls. Also, this was a secret event because the heir didn't wanted the world to know how he chose his bridem
I listened and wrote down notes on a napkin. I underlined numbers. I circled dates. The napkin was filled with tactics more than hope.
"You understand what this is?" he asked at one point.
"Yes." I didn't say I understood what it would cost me.
Soo-jae's grin cracked into something like seriousness. "If you win, it's done. If you lose, we're cooked. "
I folded the napkin and put it in my pocket. My hands were steady.
For my sister, I would walk into a room full of strangers and pretend to be someone else. I would learn to laugh on command. I would trade my name for a night of lights and I would even give up my whole freedom or my life, or I'd die trying.
"Alright," I said. " Let's try."