The grand ballroom was a cathedral of artificial perfection. Beneath the towering reach of crystal chandeliers, the air was thick—cloying with the scent of ten thousand white roses and the heavy, metallic tang of constant camera flashes. It was a sea of the nation's elite; K-celebrities, high-profile actors, and powerful businessmen mingled with influencers whose very presence was a calculated marketing move.
The sound was a chaotic symphony: the rhythmic chatter of gossip, the staccato snap of shutters, and the crystalline clink of expensive champagne glasses meeting in toasts that meant nothing. In this room, everyone was playing a part, but none so desperately as the woman at the center of the storm.
Away from the main aisle, at a table reserved for the crown jewels of Black Rose Label, five male idols sat in a huddle of glamorous chaos. They were beautiful, polished, and vibrant—the physical embodiment of the agency's success. They laughed and drank, their whispers lost in the roar of the crowd.
However, one of them stood apart like a shadow in a sunlit room.
Shin Corvus sat with a rigid, quiet dignity. His blonde hair caught the light, but it served only to highlight the thin, silver scar that ran down from the corner of his left eye—a jagged mark of a past he never spoke of. He wasn't laughing. While his teammates leaned into each other, he remained detached, his long fingers steady as he quietly poured drinks for the table. He was observant, his eyes scanning the room with the precision of a predator, or perhaps, a survivor.
He lifted his glass, the liquid amber shimmering, but it barely touched his lips. He was looking for something—a crack in the porcelain veneer of the evening.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A hush fell over the room as the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, resonant and commanding.
"Please welcome… the bride and groom."
The massive oak doors at the end of the hall swung open.
Vivian Ahn moved down the aisle like a ghost wrapped in silk. Her wedding gown was breathtaking—a masterpiece of lace and tulle that should have signified a new beginning. Beside her, Baek Soryeon walked with a possessive, heavy stride, his hand folded firmly over hers. They both wore perfect, practiced smiles that would look flawless in tomorrow's tabloids. But up close, the light didn't reach Vivian's eyes. They were hollow, staring forward as if she were watching her own funeral rather than her wedding.
Back at the idol table, the whispers turned into a frantic, excited buzz.
"She's… really young, right?" Idol 1 whispered, his eyes wide as he watched them pass.
"Yeah—she's only 23," Idol 2 replied, checking his phone.
"And CEO Baek is… what? 36?" Idol 3 hissed. "Thirteen-year age gap, damn."
"She was that influencer-singer a year ago… then vanished," Idol 4 added, his tone turning cynical. "And suddenly she's a soloist under our company. Must be nice to have those kinds of connections."
They all laughed quietly, the sound buried under the wedding march. Only Shin Corvus remained silent. His eyes were fixed on Vivian, his expression unreadable and frozen. He didn't see a lucky bride; he saw a bird in a golden cage.
The ceremony blurred into the official photoshoot. The air was hot under the studio lights of the post-wedding photo area. The boy band was called forward to gather around the couple, a sea of suits and shimmering dresses. Vivian stood positioned between Soryeon and the photographer's massive setup, her body stiff.
Shin Corvus approached the group with a slow, deliberate step. He stood far from Vivian, his distance so noticeable that it felt like a silent protest.
"Excuse me—Mr. Shin!" the photographer called out, waving a hand. "Can you move a bit closer to the bride? We need to tighten the frame!"
Shin hesitated for a heartbeat, then stepped nearer, stopping just beside Vivian. She stiffened at the proximity, her breath catching. As Shin turned his face toward the camera, his height gave him a clear view of her shoulder beneath the translucent shimmer of the bridal veil.
He noticed it instantly.
A small red cut was visible through the delicate lace. It was thin, sharp, and fresh. A very precise blade slice that had no business being on a bride's skin.
Shin's eyes widened. The world around him slowed down as his mind was violently dragged backward in time.
[Flashback ]
The memory was cold and smelled of iron. A woman sat lifeless in a wooden chair, her head hanging like a broken doll. Her wrist was slit open, and a steady, rhythmic drip-drip-drip of blood hit the floor tiles. On the floor lay a bloodied blade. And there, clutching the woman's dress, was a small child. The child wasn't just crying; he was staring at the wound, the image of that precise, sharp cut searing itself into his brain.
[Back in the present]
Shin Corvus's face tightened. His breathing sharpened into a sudden, jagged gasp
He recognized the type of wound instantly. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't a scratch from jewelry. It was a signature of control.
Vivian sensed his gaze. Her eyes flicked toward him, and for a split second, the "happy bride" mask shattered. Pure panic flashed in her pupils. She knew he had seen it.
She quickly let out a fake cough "khhm!"
to distract the people nearby. With a subtle, practiced movement of her hand, she reached up and pulled her veil forward, draping the lace shawl more heavily over her shoulder. The blade mark vanished behind the white fabric.
Shin Corvus watched the action. He didn't look away. He understood. His eyes, usually so cold and observant, softened—but it wasn't pity. It was a dark, heavy recognition. He wasn't looking at a celebrity bride anymore; he was looking at a fellow prisoner.
The photographer shouted, "Everyone, look at the camera! Big smiles!"
The group photo froze in time. The idols, the businessmen, and CEO Baek Soryeon all smiled brightly for the history books. Vivian's smile wavered, a fragile, porcelain thing on the verge of cracking. Beside her, Shin Corvus looked straight ahead, his forehead tight, his heart troubled by a truth he was never meant to find.
[He wasn't supposed to notice.]