The midnight air in the penthouse was suffocating, heavy with a tension that had been building for months behind closed doors. Kang Ji-Hoon and Han Seo-Yeon stood inches apart in the grand foyer, their shadows stretching long across the marble floor.
The "Contract" they had signed—the one that promised no feelings and no touch—felt like a fragile piece of glass shattering between them.
Ji-Hoon's eyes were dark, burning with a hunger he no longer cared to hide. He stepped into her space, his towering frame forcing her back against the cold wall. His voice was a low, jagged rasp.
"I cannot wait for this anymore," he breathed, his gaze locked onto her mouth.
He leaned in, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from hers. For a agonizing heartbeat, he hesitated, his breath hot against her skin. But before he could pull back, Seo-Yeon's hand shot up, her fingers tangling roughly in his dark hair, and she pulled him down to her.
Their lips collided with a desperate, starved violence. It was a war of possession. Ji-Hoon let out a muffled groan, his mouth devouring hers as they kissed frantically—left, then right, then deep—tasting the suppressed desire of a thousand quiet nights. They shifted poses against the wall, bodies grinding together in a frantic search for more.
Suddenly, Ji-Hoon reached down, his powerful arms hooking under her knees. He lifted her effortlessly, and Seo-Yeon wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, her arms locked around his neck as they continued to kiss with a feverish intensity.
He carried her toward the bedroom, his steps heavy and purposeful. He didn't stop to turn on the lights; he only had eyes for the woman in his arms. He lowered her onto the silk sheets and followed her down instantly, pinning her beneath his weight. His mouth moved from her lips to her chin, then down to the sensitive curve of her shoulder, his breath coming in fast, ragged hitches. The room was filled with the sound of their combined heartbeats and the rustle of clothes as they lost themselves in a passion that was never part of the deal.
SNAP.
The vision of the future shattered.
The silence of the penthouse was replaced by the thumping, rhythmic bass of a crowded nightclub. The scent of expensive perfume and skin vanished, replaced by the sharp sting of top-shelf whiskey and floral vapor.
Velvet Night.
In the center of the exclusive VIP lounge, lounging deep into a velvet sofa, sat the man himself: Kang Ji-Hoon.
But this was not the desperate husband from the bedroom. This was the "Crown Prince" of Seoul's elite—the ultimate playboy. The club was a riot of flashing strobe lights and moving bodies, but Ji-Hoon sat at the center of the storm, looking bored and untouchable.
Around him, the atmosphere was one of pure, hedonistic excess.
Three women were crowded into his space, vying for a single glance. One girl leaned over him, carefully placing a piece of chilled fruit into his mouth with a flirtatious giggle. Another sat by his feet, pouring a golden stream of Scotch into his glass.
The third woman sat boldly on his lap, her legs draped over his, her hand resting flat against his chest as she whispered something scandalous into his ear. Ji-Hoon didn't look at her; he simply leaned his head back, a lazy, arrogant smirk playing on his lips as he soaked in the attention. He was a man who lived without limits, a man who had never known the meaning of "enough."
Suddenly, a voice cut through the loud music—cool, mocking, and impossible to ignore.
"You are fun."
End of Chapter 1...