His phone vibrated again.
Another notification from X.
Damn it… again, Minhyuk thought, irritation flashing through him. He reached for the phone—but the screen changed.
Missed Call
"My Lovely Husband "
Minhyuk froze.
"…Husband?"
His eyes widened as reality slammed into him. This body—Minji—was married.
A message followed immediately.
I'll be coming home. Be prepared.
For a brief, dangerous second, an absurd thought slipped through his mind.
Prepared for what? Candlelight? Wine? Something scandalous?
He scoffed internally and shut the thought down at once.
Get a grip. I'm a man. I was a man.
Even if this body wasn't, even if that was gone—he wasn't about to let his mind spiral somewhere it shouldn't.
Before he could think further, the door opened.
Gaeul stepped inside.
"Get up," she said sharply. " We're going down for lunch."
Minhyuk—now Minji—nodded. Somewhere deep inside, resistance faded. Whether he liked it or not, this was his reality now.
They walked together down the hall. Gaeul seemed ready to speak, but Minji lifted a hand, stopping her without a word.
She didn't need explanations. Whatever chaos Minji had caused yesterday, she already felt the weight of it pressing down on her chest.
Gaeul frowned, confused, but stayed silent.
Downstairs, the dining area was already occupied.
"Now that everyone's here" Gaeul said, gesturing toward the table.
Minji's eyes swept across unfamiliar faces. She hesitated—then took a seat beside a small boy instead of the empty chair meant for her. The room stilled.
Several gazes flicked toward her.
The boy glanced up briefly, startled, then lowered his head, shoulders stiff with unease.
No one spoke. The clatter of cutlery and the muted scrape of chairs filled the room, but it felt hollow, distant, almost deliberate in its quietness. Minji kept her head slightly lowered, hands folded neatly in her lap, though every nerve in her body screamed at her to look up, to measure the faces surrounding her, to understand the currents she had stepped into.
Finally, a stern, measured voice broke the silence.
"Kangwoo will arrive later," Chairman Park said, his tone crisp, cutting through the faint hum of the dining hall. The words landed like stones in a still pond, making every ripple of tension sharper.
Everyone nodded quietly, and Minji followed a moment later, stepping into the space with cautious composure. Her movements were careful, deliberate, as though each step might betray her lack of familiarity with the life she now inhabited.
Chairman Park's gaze settled on her with subtle weight. "Your father called me this morning," he began, voice steady but carrying a weight that made every word unavoidable. "He asked after you. How are you?"
"I am fine, sir," Minji replied softly, eyes flicking downward for a fraction, then raising them just enough to meet his. "Earlier… there were some matters, but I am… completely fine now." Her voice wavered only slightly, betraying the undercurrent of tension that clung to every syllable.
Chairman Park inclined his head slowly. "Very well," he said, almost approvingly, yet the faint crease in his brow suggested a lingering concern. "As for the… trouble you caused… I will not speak on it fully now. Your husband will address it when he arrives. As I said, Kangwoo will be here soon."
The words hung heavy in the air. Minji's heart stuttered once—then twice—as the realization struck her fully, maybe that man who had been calling her phone, sending messages marked My Lovely Husband.
The room returned to silence as everyone ate, each motion deliberate, measured, yet beneath it all, a quiet tension threaded between the chairs, pressing on Minji like invisible hands. Chairman Park's voice cut through once again.
"Minji," he said, more firmly this time. "Once you are finished here, prepare yourself. Wear an appropriate dress and go to the office. Your husband will be waiting there."
Minji swallowed, the air thick in her throat. She could feel every heartbeat, every pulse of blood rushing through her, as if her own body were conspiring to betray her calm exterior. The words echoed in her mind: Your husband will be waiting there
As the rest of the family and staff gradually left the dining room, their movements leaving the space eerily hollow, Minji found herself alone, the weight of the orders settling into her chest. She moved toward the wardrobe, the anticipation and dread coiling tightly with each step.
Her fingers brushed across the dresses neatly hung, the fabrics smooth and waiting. But one dress in particular caught her eye—a bold, daring piece, more revealing than anything.
Silk that shimmered even in the dim light, cut to accentuate the figure, daring and undeniable. Her pulse quickened invol
untarily. Why would this be… what…?
She picked it up, running her fingers along the fabric, feeling the coolness against her skin. Damn. The dress was undeniably sexy. Too sexy. And yet… she had no other choice. Kangwoo would be there soon, and there was no room for hesitation, for cowardice.
Minhyuk had spent the morning preparing carefully, choosing an outfit that was elegant but not overly revealing, a dress that would satisfy appearances without drawing unnecessary attention. He adjusted the hem, smoothed the fabric over the hips, and checked the reflection in the mirror again. This isn't me. This isn't me at all, he thought, taking a deep breath.
He stepped out of the room, trying to force his posture into something natural, something strong. Despite the heels and the unfamiliar sway of the dress, he walked with the deliberate, grounded gait of a man—feet steady, shoulders squared, head held high. Each step echoed slightly on the polished floor, an unfamiliar rhythm, but one that made him feel at least a little in control.
The hallway was quiet, sunlight streaming through tall windows, reflecting off the polished floors. He almost stumbled once, adjusting his balance, but kept moving. A maid appeared ahead, carrying a silver tray of tea.
Hesitating for a moment, Minhyuk cleared his throat, voice awkward yet firm
"Excuse me," he said, voice higher than his own, awkward in pitch and rhythm. "Could you tell me… which way is Chairman Park's office?"
The maid glanced up, her eyes scanning him or her—briefly. She offered a polite smile, the kind that masked curiosity. "Second floor, third door on the left Ma'am."
Minhyuk nodded, the nerves tightening in his chest. "Th… thank you," he replied, fumbling slightly as he adjusted the strap of his dress. The dress felt restrictive, unnatural, but he forced himself to walk steadily, the image of a composed Minji taking over his every step.
As he moved down the hallway, each polished floorboard seemed to echo his own uncertainty. The ring and the sudden shift into this unfamiliar body—all of it pressed on him as he tried to make sense of the strange world he now had to navigate. A husband… Kangwoo… and I'm supposed to pretend this is normal.
Finally, he reached the third door on the left. Taking a shaky breath, he straightened his back, smoothed his dress one last time, and gently knocked.
The door opened abruptly, and Minji was there, hesitating for a moment. The assistant, standing just inside, looked up sharply and said, "Chairman, Minji is here."
Minji walked in, her posture stiff, each step measured, conscious of every movement as if the floor itself might judge her. She slid into the seat at the far side of the office, glancing around cautiously. Her so-called husband was not yet present.
Wait a minute, Minhyuk thought, the old instincts from his male life stirring. In my life, if a man were about to meet a woman, I wouldn't make her wait. I'd be there already. I'd never let her sit and stew in fear, nervousness, and awkward anticipation like this.
He shifted in the chair, uncomfortable in the unfamiliar feminine body, hands folded neatly in his lap. The silence pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.
The assistant opened the door again, voice professional but slightly tense. "Sir Kangwoo has arrived."
Minji's—heart skipped a beat. A surge of cold dread washed over him. Why… why would this man just appear like that? Thoughts scrambled, panic gnawed at his chest. Her—his—mind raced.
The door opened wider, and Kangwoo stepped in. Tall, impeccably dressed, radiating authority, every movement precise and deliberate.
Minhyuk froze, staring at Kangwoo. The man was impossibly handsome—so sharp, so composed—that even Minhyuk, in his former body, would never have come close to surpassing him.
Kangwoo's gaze didn't waver. His voice was low, controlled, and sharp.
"Dimwit," he said, the single word carrying weight, "sign the papers."
The room was silent, and even the air seemed to stiffen. Minhyuk—still in Minji's body—felt his hands tighten in his lap. One word, one command, and the cold authority of Kangwoo made it clear: there was no room for hesitation, no space for mistakes.
Minji felt a chill run down her spine. So this is him, she thought. The real Minji's husband was cold, ruthless, and utterly indifferent. There was no warmth, no patience, no hint of care. Just… command.
Minhyuk's eyes dropped to the papers in front of him. His heart sank as he read the words clearly printed at the top: Divorce Agreement.
For a moment, the room seemed to shrink, the air heavy and suffocating. In an instant, the fantasy of wealth, comfort, and easy living that had flashed in Minhyuk's mind evaporated. Everything he had hoped for as Minji—the easy, privileged life—was gone before it had even begun.
"Why…?" Minhyuk whispered under his breath, the shock and disbelief tumbling out uncontrollably. His new life, the one that had seemed like a gift, had collapsed in the span of a single glance.
Kangwoo's eyes cut through her like steel and said. "You're useless to me. A disruption. I don't tolerate weakness or mistakes in my life—or in my company."
Cold. Calculated. Every word like a blade cutting the possibility of hope.
Kangwoo added, his voice razer shop, "Your reckless acts ruined everything I built. Fuck. Now, fucking sign the papers, Dimwit."
Minhyuk froze. He didn't expect Kangwoo's personality to be this cold, this merciless. His mind flashed to the missed call he remembered—the name on the screen: "My lovely husband." For a split second, he had imagined a kind, patient man, maybe someone Minji would share a normal married life with. He had even thought that if the real Minji acted like a proper wife, he—Minhyuk—would have to endure it… maybe even push back a little.
But no. The reality in front of him was a harsh, unyielding wall. A man who didn't tolerate weakness. A man who demanded compliance. Even the thought of resistance made Minhyuk's chest tighten. Signing the papers felt like surrendering the last shred of control in this body.
Kangwoo's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, sharp and controlled: "This is the hundredth time I've demanded a divorce. Why are you still refusing?"
Minhyuk's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Hundred times? His jaw dropped, mouth hanging open like a cartoon fish. For a full three seconds, all he could do was gape. Then, almost instinctively, his brain yelled, "A hundred? A HUNDRED? WHAT THE—" He flailed a little, arms wobbling, knocking a nearby pen off the table.
Kangwoo's cold stare didn't flicker an inch. Minhyuk, on the other hand, felt like he might combust
Kangwoo was about to speak again when Minhyuk lifted a hand, stopping him mid-sentence.
"Calm down, sir," Minhyuk said, forcing his voice steady, trying not to look like a flailing mess. "Your patience is… short. Don't worry. I'll sign it."
He bent down to grab the pen he had knocked off earlier, muttering under his breath, "Aigoo…"
Minhyuk straightened, eyeing the document nervously. …But how did the real Minji usually sign this?
Swallowing, he picked up the pen, hesitating for just a moment. Then, with a shaky breath, he wrote Minji's name.
Done
He lowered the pen, heart racing. He didn't know what the real Minji's signature looked like, so he had simply written her name. The mark was on the paper. Kangwoo didn't look up, his attention already elsewhere, as if the act of signing mattered to no one but Minhyuk.
Kangwoo slipped out without a word, ignoring even his father, leaving the room as if nothing—or no one—mattered. Minhyuk followed behind, feeling the awkward weight of Minji's body under his movements.
Chairman Park's exhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch before speaking. "It's fine, Dear. If fate isn't on your side with Kangwoo… there are plenty of other men out there." He leaned back, rubbing his temple. " and also - as i told you, your father called me earlier… he's waiting for you at home."
Minhyuk's mind, still tangled in Minji's body, blinked. "Why wouldn't he call me himself?"
The chairman and his assistant froze, glancing at each other like they'd just seen a ghost.
"You always ignore him, Dear " the chairman said, voice steady but tinged with frustration. "You chase your own life without noticing how much your father cares. I… as his friend, care too and honestly, we hoped you and Kangwoo would stay together. I even told him countless times to try—just a little—look at his wife with something other than… indifference. But he refuses. He does what he wants."
Minhyuk froze mid-step, feeling the absurd weight of the realization: Kangwoo had never loved Minji. And yet, maybe the real Minji had believed he did. Now, stuck in her body, he felt a pang of irony—and a spark of mischief.
She gave a small, theatrical sigh and waved a hand at the chairman. "Alright, thank you, sir. I'll… take care of things."
Minhyuk entered Minji's room and began packing her clothes and belongings. The pile of dresses, blouses, and accessories was overwhelming, and he carefully folded each piece into a suitcase, trying to keep them neat. Minutes passed as he worked steadily, organizing what he could.
Once the main packing was done, he flopped onto the soft foam mattress, letting out a slow, exhausted breath. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and he allowed himself a brief moment of relief.
As he continued sorting Minji's things, he ignored the makeup completely. Applying it was beyond him, and he didn't want to risk ruining anything.
Then something caught his eye—a small laminated ID lying on the dresser. He picked it up and read: Park Minji, Haneul High School, neatly printed in Korean.
Tskk, he muttered, flipping it over in his hand. "Alright, I'll have to change this too."
Minhyuk added the ID to the suitcase, planning silently. If he was going to live in Minji's life, he would need to control it carefully and make his own moves from here.