Clink. Clink.
Chairman Han raised his glass, the crystal chime slicing through the polite dinner chatter. He offered a practiced smile. "A toast," he announced, "to the merger and union of two great legacies."
His gaze traveled around the table, commanding attention. I looked at him, too, my own smile feeling like porcelain.
'Merger. Legacies. Huh. Not families.'
"The Han Group," he began, his voice dropping into the solemn, storytelling tone reserved for this parable, "was born from a language spoken not in boardrooms, but in the ashes of war. My father, Han Jeong-ho, knew this language. He arrived in Busan with nothing but the clothes on his back and a single sack of ginseng roots. He set up a stall no bigger than this table."
"He had one rule. One principle. The scale must be true. In a time when everyone was starving—when cheating a gram could mean another bowl of rice—his scale was honest. People began to call him 'The Honest Scale of Jagalchi.' Not because he was a saint, but because he understood: Trust is the only currency that never devalues."
"That stall became a shop. That shop supplied the American army—because they demanded quality and consistency. That demand built our first food processing plant. That plant funded our first department store, our first hotel… this life you all see today."
He paused, his gaze sweeping the table before lingering on his son, Eun-woo, and then on me—his soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
"We did not build an empire on land or bricks. We built it on a promise. The promise that the name 'Han' stands for substance. For integrity. For things that are built to last."
"As we look to the future, to new partnerships…" His eyes flicked to me, then back to his son. The pause was deliberate, heavy. "...that is precisely why we instated the Public Image Clause. Austra. Eun-woo. The two of you will be the new face of the Han Group. That means you must always—and I mean always—keep your appearances impeccable."
"The Han name is known for one thing above all: public trust. Whatever may happen between you," he said, the words slow and deliberate, "remember to keep it just that. Between yourselves.
"Our people watch, and they judge. A private matter made public ceases to be private; it becomes a communal failure. Keep your affairs contained. Do not let them become a spectacle that tarnishes more than just your own reputations.."
The message was clear. It wasn't advice; it was a warning wrapped in family history. I felt a cold weight settle in my stomach and gulped quietly.
Beside me, Chairman Law attempted a light, conciliatory laugh. "Of course, Brother. They may be young, but even they know this isn't just about them. The futures of our families—and the companies upon which millions depend—are at stake."
Madam Han continued, her tone sweetly corrosive. "That's right, dear. I'm sure they'll manage beautifully." She paused, her gaze shifting like a searchlight. "Speaking of, Austra."
Her voice snapped me from my daze. I'd been watching the wine swirl in my glass, a tiny vortex of dark red. "Ye-Yes?"
"I hear you've requested a board seat. An… unusual interest for a bride-to-be."
I straightened, summoning the polished, reasonable tone I'd practiced. "Yes, I believe a strong partnership is built on mutual understanding, Madam. I want to truly comprehend the world my future husband dedicates his life to."
I could see Eun-woo's eyes flick to me—a quick, unguarded beat of surprise before his mask of polite detachment slid back into place.
Director Park, a man with a smile that never reached his eyes, chimed in. "How… modern of you."
"Well, you know what they say," I replied, keeping my voice light. "'Behind every great man is a strong woman.' I just happen to believe she should be standing beside him."
A round of stiff chuckles came, "Hahaha! I heard you studied abroad. A top university, no less, I can see that in your way of talking." Director Park boomed. "I'm sure our company will be getting a formidable addition."
Han Soo-jin, Eun-woo's younger sister who had been quietly observing until now, finally spoke.
Her eyes were fixed on me, analytical and sharp. "Oh, Eonnie is definitely a great woman," she said, her voice sugary.
Then, with a deliberate pivot, she turned to Secretary Lee. "And of course, we can't forget Secretary Lee. Her skills are so exceptional that my Oppa," she emphasized the familial term, "who never mixes his personal life with business, actually brought her here tonight. That's a first."
I looked at Soo-jin, a faint smile touching my lips.
'I know what you're doing, you clever little fangirl.'
She was trying to publicly link Eun-woo and Secretary Lee, to plant a seed of suspicion or highlight their unique closeness.
A classic move from the original drama's in-built fangirl. Too bad she didn't know… I loved that. I loved seeing proof of their bond, even if it was being weaponized.
The moment was shattered by Director Park, who spoke again. "Ah, Secretary Lee! I heard about her competence too, isn't her boyfriend that nice young man from Marketing team… Team Leader Minhyuk, was it? I've met him a few times. A very good kid."
'Hmph! That guy? A 'good kid'? Clearly, he's never actually met him. But then again, what did I expect from one antagonist but to praise another?'
My internal trash-talking was a small, private rebellion.
The dinner crawled on through more courses of exquisite, tasteless food and carefully barbed conversation.
Finally, Chairman Han cleared his throat with a resonant hum, signaling an end to the performance.
"Now that the families have been properly introduced," he announced, his voice leaving no room for debate, "the adults will retire to discuss the finer points of the merger. The children may be excused."
He turned his stern gaze to me. "Austra. Congratulations on your confirmed position at the department store. We will expect great things."
It wasn't encouragement; it was a mandate. His eyes then shifted to his son. "Eun-woo. Take Austra back to the apartment. We will conclude matters here."
It was a direct order, wrapping our departure in the guise of chaperoned propriety.
Chairman Law offered us a curt, approving nod before following his counterpart out of the dining room, the two patriarchs already murmuring as the doors swung shut behind them.
Director Park was the first to break the post-patriarchal silence.
He pushed back his chair with a scrape, offering a thin, perfunctory smile.
"If you'll all excuse me, I should prepare for an early meeting tomorrow. The work never sleeps." With a shallow bow to the remaining women, he departed, his exit as efficient as his demeanor.
The table felt cavernous with only the two Madams, Soo-jin, Eun-woo, Secretary Lee, and myself remaining. The air was thick with unsaid things.
Eun-woo stood next, his movement fluid and deliberate. "If you'll excuse me as well," he said, his voice a model of cool courtesy. He didn't look at me. "I need to speak with my secretary regarding tomorrow's schedule. I'll return shortly, Austra."
Before I could even nod, he was already turning, a silent signal to Secretary Lee. The two of them moved away from the dining area toward the private lounge entrance, leaving me with the piercing gazes of the three remaining women.
"I, uh… I should get going too," I stammered, offering a nervous bow to Madam Han and Soo-jin. "Goodnight."
My own mother, Madam Law, didn't look up from her tea. "I will wait for your father. You should go. Don't keep your fiancé waiting, Austra dear." Her dismissal was absolute.
Grateful for the escape, I hurried out, my heels clicking a rapid rhythm on the polished marble. As I rounded the corner toward the grand foyer, I stopped short.
There they were, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights. Eun-woo and Secretary Lee—no, Yoon-ah—standing just outside the main doors.
Yoon-ah held a tablet, her posture professionally tense. "Sir, about the merger notes you wanted reviewed for the morning—"
"Forget the notes," Eun-woo cut her off, his voice low but carrying in the quiet hall. "It's late. Go home."
"But you said they were urgent—" she started, confused.
"I said go home, Secretary Lee." His tone brooked no argument. "That's an order."
A heavy beat of silence hung between them. Then, his voice dropped, becoming softer, almost reluctant. "…And don't answer any more work calls tonight."
He didn't wait for her reply. Raising a hand, he signaled to Mr. Shin, his head of security, who stood sentry by the drive. "Please ensure Secretary Lee gets a car."
Yoon-ah looked torn for a second, then bowed slightly. "Goodnight, CEO Han." She followed Mr. Shin toward the waiting line of black sedans.
I watched from the shadow of the corridor, my earlier anxiety melting into a flutter of fangirl delight.
'Oh~! The classic cold-but-secretly-caring CEO move! Telling her to ignore work and rest! Ugh, just tell her alrea—!' My inner shipper's heart did a little somersault.
"Are you going to stand there watching the whole time?"
His voice, flat and close, made me jump. He had turned and was looking right at where I lurked.
I scrambled out from my hiding spot, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I-I was just… waiting for you to finish! I didn't want to interrupt—"
"Let's go," he said, cutting off my babbling. He simply turned and walked toward the main driveway.
There, Butler Kim stood poised beside the open door of the flagship sedan. "CEO Han, Young Miss," he greeted us with a deep bow, his face an impeccable mask of formality. "A pleasant evening."
Eun-woo gestured for me to enter first. I slid across the cool leather, and he followed, settling into the seat with a controlled sigh.
The door closed with a definitive thud, sealing us in a plush, silent capsule.
Butler Kim took the passenger seat, and the car glided away from the glowing hotel.
The only sounds were the whisper of the engine and the faint hum of the climate control.
The space between us in the back seat felt vast, charged with the day's unspoken words and the awkward, heavy silence of two near-strangers bound for the same, unfamiliar apartment.
* * *
The car ride ended not with a word, but with the soft crunch of tires on a private driveway.
The apartment building was a sleek, silent monolith in the night, its lobby a museum of minimalist art and hushed tones.
Butler Kim saw them to the private elevator bank. "I will return at seven to drive you to the office, Young Miss and will bring your schedule that has been coordinated with the department store in the morning. Then, CEO. Miss. Goodnight."
The elevator ascent was a study in silence.
When the doors opened, it was not to a home, but to a breathtaking, coldly perfect showroom—all marble, glass, and curated emptiness.
Without a glance my way, Han Eun-woo walked across the vast living area, his footsteps silent on the thick rug.
He stopped at a door that was subtly, but definitely, set apart from the master suite.
The guest room.
Austra recognized it instantly. A detail from the drama's lore: 'The CEO always sleeps in the guest room instead of Austra the whole time they were married right? Isn't that why she was angry at Lee Yoon Ah when she went on that work tri—.'
My thoughts stopped as he paused, his hand on the knob.
It was the only acknowledgment I would get.
"Goodnight, President Han," I said, offering a shallow, formal bow into the void between us.
He gave a barely perceptible nod, opened the door, and disappeared inside. The soft click of the lock was the day's ending.
Only then did I let my shoulders slump. I hurried to my room—the master suite, another beautiful cage.
Closing the door, I leaned against it, finally alone.
The expensive dress felt like a second skin of obligation.
I peeled it off with a mix of reverence and relief, letting the impossibly heavy fabric pool on the floor like a discarded persona.
In simple pajamas, I fell backward onto the bed.
It was a mattress of clouds, swallowing me in a comfort that was almost insulting in its perfection.
A long, shuddering sigh escaped me—a release of all the day's coiled tension, the performed smiles, the veiled threats, the weight of a legacy that wasn't mine.
"Ahhh… what a day," I mumbled into the pristine, cold pillow. The silence of the enormous room swallowing my voice.
"And to think tomorrow I actually have to go to work. I really thought being rich meant never working again…" I turned, burying my face deeper. "Guess I still have to survive. Gotta secure my own place after all. My own… place in this world."
A bittersweet smile touched my lips as my eyes grew heavy. The last conscious thought was a quiet, fervent wish whispered into the darkness.
"Tomorrow… please just be better."
And with the exhaustion of a soul who had fought a war in silk and smiles, Austra Law, the villainess-fiancée-turned-unwitting-homewrecker, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.