Hana had never liked mornings after family events.
They always came with the same headaches, too much champagne, too many fake smiles, and now, a fake fiancé.
Daniel Kim.
Even his name irritated her.
Hana stood before her mirror, adjusting the diamond studs her mother had "suggested" she wear. They were small, understated, just like the version of herself she had to play for the cameras. The quiet, graceful heiress. The perfect match for the Kim heir.
Perfect.
She almost laughed at the word.
Her phone buzzed. A message from her mother.
> Don't forget brunch with Daniel's family at the Sky Lounge today. Wear something pastel. And smile. :)
Hana resisted the urge to throw her phone.
She'd rather walk barefoot over broken glass than smile at Daniel Kim again.
The memory of yesterday's "couple quiz" still made her blood boil.
He'd been insufferable , smug, uncooperative, mocking her every answer like it was a game. And yet… for a second, when he froze up at the end, staring into nothing like he'd seen a ghost, she'd caught something in his eyes. Pain. Real pain.
But she wasn't foolish enough to let that distract her. Daniel Kim was dangerous — not in the criminal sense, but in the emotional one. The kind of man who got under your skin without even trying.
And she had better things to do than fall for someone like that.
---
The Sky Lounge gleamed twenty stories above the city, sunlight pouring through glass walls. Hana arrived exactly on time and for once, Daniel was already there, lounging back in his seat like he owned the place.
"Right on schedule," he said, sipping his coffee. "Impressive."
"I could say the same," Hana replied coolly. "Didn't think punctuality was your strong suit."
He smiled faintly. "You'd be surprised what I'm good at."
"Overestimating yourself, apparently."
It was always like this. Every word was a small, deliberate provocation.
The waiter came to take their orders, visibly nervous. Daniel's reputation wasn't exactly known for warmth.
"I'll have the omelet," Hana said, handing back the menu.
Daniel closed his without looking. "Same."
"Copying me now?" Hana asked.
"Easier than thinking," he said.
Her jaw tightened. "You really enjoy being irritating, don't you?"
"Only when it works."
She inhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to smile. Cameras lined the corner of the lounge; the family PR team was already taking discreet photos for the tabloids. The Kims and the Yoons, united through love. What a joke.
Daniel leaned forward slightly, voice lowering.
"You don't have to pretend with me, you know. I hate this just as much as you do."
"Good. Then don't talk to me," Hana muttered.
He gave a quiet chuckle, and for some reason, it grated on her more than his arrogance. Because it wasn't a cold laugh, it was tired. Almost… human.
---
After brunch, the two were instructed to attend a charity gallery event together , "for image purposes." Hana wore a soft pink dress her mother had chosen; Daniel, a black suit that fit him like it was tailored for sin.
The flashes of cameras followed them as they walked in side by side.
She could practically hear the captions being written:
> The picture-perfect couple, Korea's most powerful heirs.
If only they knew.
Inside, Hana drifted away from Daniel to breathe. She hated being watched. Every look, every step was a performance. She found herself in front of a painting , a woman standing by a cliff, her dress whipping in the wind.
Something about it made her heart tighten.
Behind her, Daniel approached quietly. "You like that one?"
She turned, startled. "You shouldn't sneak up on people."
"I didn't. You were just lost in thought."
She ignored that. "It's… interesting," she said, staring back at the painting. "She looks like she's waiting for something."
"Or someone," Daniel said softly.
Their eyes met. For a split second, something flickered between them. recognition, maybe, or memory. Then Hana looked away quickly.
He was too close.
"Don't read into things," she said curtly. "It's just a painting."
Daniel studied her for a long moment. "Right."
He turned away, but Hana noticed the tension in his shoulders . as if the art had stirred something he didn't want to feel.
And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him flinch. Just slightly.
"Daniel?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He pressed a hand to his temple. "Just a headache."
But his eyes… they weren't seeing the gallery anymore.
They were somewhere else far away.
For a moment, Hana almost reached out to steady him. Almost.
Then she remembered who he was, the man she was forced to marry, the one who could destroy her reputation with a single careless word.
So she stepped back.
"Maybe you should rest," she said coldly. "Wouldn't want to ruin the perfect couple image."
He blinked, snapping out of whatever trance lhad caught him. "Right. Perfect couple."
He straightened, mask back in place, smile sharp again. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the press."
As they walked back toward the cameras, Hana's heart felt heavier than before. Something about that moment unsettled her, like she'd seen a crack in the wall hisimpenetrable fortress.
Later, in the car, as the city lights blurred past her window, Hana found herself whispering aloud:
"Who are you really, Daniel Kim?"
He didn't answer. He was asleep beside her, head tilted slightly toward the glass, a faint frown on his lips, like a man haunted by ghosts.
And though she didn't know why, Hana's chest tightened again.
.
.
.