An hour later, the leaderboard changed again.
My name was back at the top.
The whispers started up instantly. Who was behind the mysterious rankings? Who dared challenge me? No one knew.
They all thought I was behind it. But after my what just happened with Yoona, their gossip collapsed into silence. They didn't have anything better to do than chase the phantom "mastermind" hiding in the shadows.
I stayed where I was, my eyes lingering on the glowing projector screen.
My name burned at the very top. And I'd do anything to keep my crown.
The real question was...
Who would be next to challenge me?
***
"Class, we have a new student today."
Ms. Lin's smile was too sweet, it was annoying.
"I'd like you all to welcome him and make him feel comfortable."
Her eyes flicked to me with a sharp glare.
I see. I usually make people feel... uncomfortable.
She gestured, and the new student walked in.
Skinny frame. Slouched shoulders. A baggy uniform two sizes too big. He looked like he'd borrowed it from someone who clearly didn't want it back.
Nothing flashy or bold. Very forgettable.
He was the type you could pass in the hallway a hundred times and you'd never notice him. Yes, I'm very observant.
"This is Lee Joon," Ms. Lin announced. "Would you like to share a fun fact about yourself?"
He shook his head. No words or effort. Just walked to the only empty desk— the one right beside mine.
Of course. The universe never misses an opportunity to annoy me.
The room froze. All eyes flicked to him, then to me.
But I didn't flinch. As long as he didn't breathe the wrong way, he could sit in the Devil's seat if he wanted.
"What are you doing? Get up!" hissed the boy next to him.
"Why?" Joon's tone was flat. "What's wrong?"
Everyone glanced nervously toward me.
"That's Park Mirae. The President's daughter. You don't get to sit next to her."
Joon blinked, then glanced at me. His lips parted slightly.
"What do you mean? She's human, isn't she? She doesn't look bothered."
Then, softer, almost to himself: "Or does she?"
The whispering scraped at my nerves like nails on glass. I snapped my head up.
"What?!"
The single word sliced through the room. The whispers died instantly.
The boy beside Joon swallowed hard and muttered, "I warned you."
Joon didn't move. He just smiled at me.
I rolled my eyes and looked away. He's dismissed.
When class ended, I was out the door before the bell finished echoing.
But HE followed me.
"Hi, I'm—"
My glare cut him off mid-speech.
His feet seemed to glue to the floor. He froze there. For one stupid second, he looked like a deer caught in headlights.
I kept walking. He wasn't worth the time.
The rest of the day blurred past.
***
At home, I dropped on my bed, scrolling mindlessly through my phone. My feed was filled with rumors and gossip about the "elite." The "perfect." Me.
I sighed and tossed the phone aside, remembering Joon's words.
For two seconds, from a boy with a crooked smile, I had heard it. Genuine, and somehow, it stuck.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in," I muttered.
A maid entered, bowing so low it looked like she had been trained for it.
"Mr. Park requests your presence at dinner. By eight. He said he would appreciate it if you came."
My dismissal was instant.
"Tell him I have better things to do."
She stayed frozen, still maintaining the 90° bow.
I pushed off the bed, disgust curling my lip.
"The door's that way."
Her voice cracked as she spoke. "I'm sorry, ma'am. He said... he won't take 'no' for an answer."
Of course he wouldn't. He never does.
"Fine," I muttered, waving her off. "Tell him I'll come. Now go."
She bowed again and slipped out.
Dinner.
Which meant Gaon—the most expensive restaurant in Seoul. The entire place had been booked out for one man. My father.
***
I arrived in a white-gold Yumi Katsura diamond dress worth $8.5 million. A dress that could fund a generation, wasted on my shoulders.
My father sat at the head of a private table. And beside him was her. Of course. Eunji.
I signaled my bodyguards to wait outside and slid into the seat across from them.
"I'm glad you came," my father said smoothly.
"Like I had a choice," I muttered, eyes fixed on the menu.
I ordered foie gras—a rich, buttery delicacy made from the fattened liver of a duck or goose—because why not? He did call me for what? A waste.
For a while, silence pretended to be peace. Until Father shattered it.
"I wanted to speak about the future of our family... the four of us."
My eyes snapped up.
"You see, your mother here—"
"My mother?" I cut him off. "Don't. Don't ever put that word in her mouth."
This wasn't the first time we were having arguments, and most times, he didn't even know how to react.
The temperature dropped. Chairs creaked. Eunji shifted but said nothing.
"You dragged me here for this?" I spat. "I don't care about your pathetic playhouse marriage. Leave me out of it."
I stood, fire in my chest.
"I hate fake people," I hissed, eyes drilling into Eunji.
"Park Mirae!" My father's roar shook the room. His face flushed crimson.
"You ill-mannered child!"
I smirked, the venom in my tone unshakable.
"Ill-mannered? Maybe. But at least I'm not pretending. You never cared about me—don't start now. Save your love for her... she's not even your wife."
Eunji raised her hands delicately, voice soft, coaxing.
"Let's calm down and talk this over—"
"Talk over what? Your stolen fairytale?" I said, slamming my hand on the table. My sarcastic laugh was sharp. "Keep it. I'm done."
I grabbed my bag and stormed out, heels striking like gunshots.
Outside, the night air blew on my skin. But it was cleaner than the poison inside.
My limousine pulled up, I waited, arms crossed, staring at the vibrant city lights.
Memories clawed back—my mother's gentle smile, her kindness, and patience—destroyed by his betrayal and stolen by the woman now carrying his child.
Eunji's baby. Their "perfect family."
It made me sick. My mother never got enough time. Never got what she deserved.
And one thing was certain:
I'd never forgive the thief who tried to replace her.