The cold iron door of the underground lounge slammed shut behind Ahn So-yeon, sealing her fate with a sound that rattled her spine. The thick scent of cigar smoke clung to the air like rot, blending with expensive whiskey, sweat, and the metallic edge of danger. A chandelier flickered overhead, its crystals stained yellow by dim lighting, casting shadows that slithered across the red velvet walls.
She was out of place. Too clean. Too hopeful.
The hem of her black skirt fluttered as she stepped inside, heels clicking against the polished obsidian floor. Her fingers curled tightly around the envelope in her hand—the one with her father's note, scribbled in panicked ink: "Come to Room 13. Don't ask questions."
She had asked anyway. He didn't answer.
Now she understood why.
A ring of men sat around an obsidian poker table, some in tailored suits, others with tattooed knuckles and predator eyes. Their conversation dimmed when they noticed her—like wolves scenting a deer.
But it was the man at the head of the table who froze her breath in her lungs.
Kang Ryu-jin.
She had seen him only once before, from a distance—on the news, blurry behind tinted glass, accused of embezzlement and murder. All charges dropped, of course. Rumor whispered he controlled half the city's crime underworld. But here, in this suffocating room, he didn't need rumors to be terrifying.
Tall. Impossibly still. Dark hair swept back. A scar traced down the side of his jaw like a knife's final caress. His tailored charcoal suit stretched over a body that didn't just wear power—it radiated it.
His eyes met hers, black and bottomless.
A strange silence fell. Time slowed. So-yeon's heart slammed against her ribs.
Then her gaze shifted—and found her father.
Ahn Jong-su stood by the curtain, pale and trembling, his hair slick with sweat. He looked older than he had that morning, like the years had devoured him in a single afternoon.
"Appa," she whispered, taking a step forward.
He looked at her, guilt carved into every line of his face.
"What… What is this place? Why did you call me here?"
His eyes darted toward Ryu-jin.
She followed his gaze.
"Miss Ahn," Ryu-jin said finally, his voice low, smooth, and devoid of mercy. "You're just in time. We were discussing the terms of your… arrangement."
So-yeon blinked. "What?"
"You'll be marrying me," he said simply.
A stunned silence fell.
She laughed—a short, nervous sound. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"She doesn't know?" one of the men asked, amused.
"She wasn't told," Ryu-jin replied without looking away from her. "Yet here she is. A good daughter."
So-yeon turned sharply to her father. "Tell me this is a joke."
He swallowed. "So-yeon-ah… I made a mistake."
Her blood went cold.
"How much?" she asked, voice shaking.
"Seven hundred million won," he whispered. "And I— I bet the house. The clinic. Everything."
Her vision blurred. "You told me you quit gambling."
"I did. For a while. But… I thought I could win it back. I thought—"
"You bet me," she said flatly, not a question.
"I didn't mean to. It was desperation. He offered—"
So-yeon stepped back. "You traded me like currency."
"I'm sorry, So-yeon," he choked. "They would've killed me."
"I should have let them."
"Enough," Ryu-jin said coolly, standing.
She flinched. He approached slowly, each step deliberate, controlled, like a tiger deciding when to pounce. When he stopped in front of her, the world seemed to quiet.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"I'm furious."
"You'll be furious under my roof, as my wife," he said. "Or your father's body will be found floating in the Han River by morning."
Her pulse screamed in her ears. "You think I'll just say yes to this insanity?"
"I don't need your yes," he said. "Just your compliance."
"And if I refuse?"
He leaned closer. "Then I'll break your father slowly. In front of you."
A gasp tore from her lips.
"You bastard."
"Correct," he murmured. "But I'm also your only way out."
So-yeon's throat tightened. Her gaze dropped to his hands—clean, elegant fingers, but she could imagine them stained with blood.
"How long," she whispered. "How long would I have to… pretend?"
His gaze sharpened. "We don't pretend. You'll be mine. Publicly. Privately. Fully."
She couldn't breathe.
"I don't even know you," she said.
"You will."
"And what if I run?"
"I'll find you. And it won't be you who suffers."
Her fists clenched at her sides. Her heart warred between fury and helplessness.
"I'm not your property."
"No," he said. "You're my contract."
Silence fell.
Her father sobbed quietly in the corner.
And So-yeon stood there, drowning.
This wasn't a marriage.
It was a sentence.
By the time they reached his estate—if you could even call the towering fortress in Gangnam an "estate"—the sun had disappeared behind the city skyline.
The car ride had been silent. He didn't speak. Neither did she.
The mansion gates opened without a word, metal sliding back like jaws parting to consume her. Inside, everything was immaculate. Cold. Elegant. Marble floors, sleek black walls, chrome furniture. No family photos. No warmth.
She stepped inside like a prisoner crossing the threshold of her cell.
Ryu-jin followed her in, removing his coat, handing it to a silent man in black.
"You'll stay in the east wing," he said without looking at her. "Your room has been prepared."
So-yeon turned to face him.
"This isn't a marriage," she snapped.
"No," he said. "This is power consolidation."
"Then why me?"
His eyes met hers, unflinching.
"Because you're the daughter of the man who stole from me. Because you're educated, quiet, obedient-looking. Because I need a wife to silence certain enemies. Because I want you."
Her stomach turned.
"You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
"Let me guess," she spat. "Pretty enough for headlines. Quiet enough not to embarrass you. Disposable."
His jaw tensed, something flashing in his eyes. "Wrong."
He stepped closer, and for a second, the mask cracked—revealing something darker. Sadder. Human.
"I don't keep disposable things," he murmured. "I keep them forever."
Goosebumps rose on her skin.
She turned away. "I'll play your game. For now. But don't think for a second I'm yours."
"You already are," he said quietly.
He left without another word.
She stood in the hallway alone, heart thudding, the marble beneath her too cold to feel real.
In the distance, somewhere down the long corridor, a door slammed shut.
She had stepped into hell.
And married the devil.
End of Chapter 1 .