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The gala is in five hours.
That gives me just enough time to become someone unforgettable.
—
My walk-in closet isn't a closet.
It's a cathedral of couture.
Velvet, lace, sequins—organized by shade and scandal.
My stylist, Yuri, kneels at my feet, adjusting the slit of my custom dress. "This gown will ruin lives."
"I don't care about lives," I murmur. "Just reputations."
She laughs. "You're a menace. I love it."
Diamond cuffs on my wrists. Black velvet skimming my thighs. The neckline plunges low enough to make headlines—but I wear it with a spine of steel.
No one touches me.
But everyone wants to.
—
By 8 PM, the gala hall blooms with money and wine.
Crystal chandeliers. Cameras. Every powerful name in Seoul is here. And yet, all heads turn only when I enter.
Phones rise. Whispers follow.
"That's Yoon Se-na, right?"
"She planned the Shin wedding in three days."
"God, look at her dress—"
I pass them all, face unreadable, lips barely curved.
Men greet me like I'm royalty.
Women try not to look threatened.
My name is on every tongue—but no one dares speak it too loudly.
That's how power works.
—
Hours later, I'm finally home.
The earrings come off first. Then the gown. Then the smile.
I walk barefoot to my balcony, silk robe loose, hair now falling down my back. My phone buzzes.
Jin-woo: "Gala pics just dropped. You broke the internet, again."
He's my best friend. Gay. Fierce. The only person who saw me broken, once.
Me: "Good. Let it burn."
A pause. Then he replies:
"You okay, though?"
I don't answer. I stare out at the city.
I look like I have it all.
But I remember what it felt like—being left behind like trash.
I touch the scar on my hip again.
No one sees this side of me.
Except me.
And maybe…
Maybe one day, I'll let someone in again.
But not yet.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I sleep like a queen—
Crowned in silence, curled in loneliness.
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