Chapter Text
Perfection.
Your entire life, that was all you sought.
Perfection.
Your parents had raised you in an elite neighborhood, surrounded by the most prestigious of company, with the constant expectation that you'd be the best student in your school. Your room had been a paradise, your skin better than a model's, and you'd gone through years of training to always be the most ladylike in every room.
Perfection was never something you sought - but rather something that had always been expected of you.
From the day you were adopted at three years old, your parents had made it clear that the reason they had selected you of all the children was because you seemed the most moldable. The least resilient. The most willing.
And that much was true. You did everything they ever asked from you.
Now though, now that it feels like your whole life is about to end and your world is about to come crashing down: you can't help but think about that fateful day. You'd accepted their explanation at first, but now, you suspect that the reason for your adoption was because you best conformed to the image of what they wanted their child to look like. Just like your adoptive parents, you had (e/c) eyes and were (h/c), so to the public eye you looked like a natural daughter. And years of learning dance had toned your body to give you all the right curves and edges: true beauty, to any man who gazed upon you.
Even when your father had passed at the young age of forty years old, after protecting you from a drunk driver, he'd gazed upon you on his deathbed, telling you how much he loved you and how perfect you were.
But this whole time, I was incomplete, wasn't I? You think bitterly, as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You wish you have the courage to ask those words out loud to your mother, who's smoking a cigarette in the hotel room next to yours, just a call away; but why bother when you already know the answer?
No matter what you did, from bringing home trophies in middle school to skyrocketing the stocks of their company, your role as a daughter has never been fulfilled.
Until now.
You drop your gaze to the diamond band wrapped around your ring finger.
Perfection.
It's the ring that completes your package as the perfect daughter. In your life, you'd been slowly achieving all your parents' needs from you. Their demands had started superficial, with the requirement that you were beautiful and graceful. Then it delved deeper, and you had to make sure you were always ladylike and polite. Soon, your responsibilities turned to being the top student in all your classes and placing first in all your extracurricular competitions. Then, it had been soaring through college and working as the Director of Internal Affairs at your parents' company, BC-Sonic.
Yesterday, there had been only one thing left that your mother sought from you: an engagement to the wealthiest man in all of South Korea.
And as always, you'eve fulfilled their expectations.
Perfection.
There was no other word anyone could use to describe you.
If only you could feel the same way.
"(Y/N)," You hear your mother call from the other side of the wall. "Are you ready yet?"
You take a second glance at yourself in the mirror.
To please your fiancé, you'd changed into a stunning red gown with diamond jewelry to match the ring he'd placed on your finger just yesterday. It's the kind of dress that men love and women hate. The bottom of the dress hangs low, just barely scraping the floor when you stand upright in your heels, but there's a slit that reveals your provocative legs, trailing all the way up to wear your 'birthmark' is. As if that weren't enough, though the top half of you is far from modest and your back and shoulders are almost entirely bare, making you feel naked.
But you know you look radiant.
"Yes, Mother," You respond swiftly, satisfied with your appearance.
The woman wastes no time in entering your room, and she immediately comes over to you. Cigarette in hand, you can't help but tense at the sight of the burn stick even though you know it won't touch you.
"Chin up," She commands. "Shoulders back, jaw loose. Don't move your head when you walk, or your hair will come undone. Come here, sweetling, yes, perfect. Back straight, (Y/N). There you go, make sure to hold your posture. Eyes up, don't stare at the ground."
If your father was here, he'd scoff at your mother's remarks and tell you how pretty you look, and how Chairman Han won't back out of this marriage over something trivial as drooped shoulders.
But he's gone. And all I have left is Mother.
Your mother stiffens. "Remember, (Y/N). You will be a proper lady at all times. Just because your last name is changing doesn't mean that the media won't continue to associate you with me. Every public appearance you make must be perfect, hm?" The woman's eyes are cold as she reminds you of your duty. "Do not allow the paparazzi to waste the years of training that has brought you to this moment. Do not forget who you are for even a moment."
You swallow nervously, but don't allow your fear to show. "Yes, Mother."
"Are you ready to meet Chairman Han for the first time since the formalization of your engagement?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Good," She says, before looking at you quizzically. "I leave for my flight in fifteen minutes. I do not want any calls from you saying that you've messed this up. Do you hear me? Do not ruin this, (Y/N). Of all things, do not ruin this."
You meet her eyes for perhaps the first time today, and you can't decode the look in her eyes. What is it hidden behind that seemingly infinite abyss of (e/c)? Resentment? Wariness? Concern? You've never failed her before, she shouldn't have any reason to think ill of you.
Though for her, this is by far the greatest task she has requested of you in your entire life. You'd tried your best to hide your mislike for Chairman Han, but she was your mother. Not biologically, but still.
Does she sense your apprehension at marrying Chairman Han?
"I'll make you proud, Mother."
Whenever your thoughts fail you, those words won't. Because each time you speak them, you sincerely mean them.
No matter what your parents asked of you, you would do it. That's how it always had been.
Marrying Chairman Han will be no exception.
***
"Let's not order yet, my love," Your fiancé murmured, placing his menu down next to his plate.
Despite your confusion, you do the same. "Is something the matter?" You inquire, already fearing for the worst. What if the reason Chairman Han doesn't want to order is because he doesn't want to have dinner with you?
Horror floods your senses as you internally prepare for the worst.
What if he wants to cancel the engagement?
You try not to imagine your mother's fury if such a thing were to happen, already acutely aware of your trembling hands.
"Don't be nervous, (Y/N)," Chairman Han says, placing a hand on your cheek. His hand is gentle, but you have to remind yourself not to physically recoil from his touch. "It's just that I've invited my son to share dinner with us. Now that we're engaged, I think it's well past time he meets the woman I'm going to share the rest of my life with."
You smile softly at the Chairman, relieved that it was nothing more serious. "Your son agreed? The same man who declined all our previous invitation to dine together?" You laugh lightly, not truly offended by your future step-son's refusal to meet with you. It's no secret that Chairman Han is a womanizer, and there's no doubt that his son had thought that you were just another senseless fling.
"Don't be offended by him, he's just a little...clueless when it comes to some social cues."
You smile, unsure of what to respond with. You're about to compliment Chairman Han's tie when his gaze flits above you.
"Ah, Jumin! You're here!"
You freeze.
Jumin?
The man takes his seat at the round table and turns to greet you with a bored look in his eye.
As soon as his gaze meets yours though, his eyes widen. And yours do too, at the realization that this engagement will be far worse than you'd ever expected.
Of course, you think to yourself. How could you forget? Jumin Han had been your classmate nearly a decade ago when the two of you were in high school. The two of you hadn't been especially close—distant enough that you hadn't pieced together the fact that it was his father you're marrying—but still acquainted to the point where you knew a good amount of information about him.
Like the fact that he, your future step-son, is older than you by a good six months.
"Jumin, I'd like you to meet my fiancé. This is (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N)...or, I suppose," The Chairman flashes you a bold grin. "(Y/N) Han."
You shift your gaze from the Chairman back to Jumin, terrified. What do you say? 'Nice to meet you?'
"It's been very long since I last saw you, (Y/N)," Jumin says stiffly, a cold expression on his face. "You've changed."
You swallow and try to remember your mother's instructions back in the hotel room. Be natural. Shoulders back, jaw loose. Back straight, eyes up.
As you force your body back into its proper posture, you feel yourself become more ladylike and somehow, your tongue unties itself and the words pour out of you. "Too long! How have you been, Jumin?"
You try not to cringe at the fakeness of your tone, but desperately hope that Jumin doesn't pick up on your fear. Of all the things to shake the foundations of your engagement, the fact that it's Jumin's father you're marrying is the worst.
Without a doubt, he's capable of convincing his father to cancel the engagement.
And that's the one thing you can't let happen.
"You two already know each other?" The Chairman asks.
Before you can respond, though, Jumin speaks up, his tone ice cold.
"Yes, I actually had the pleasure of knowing (Y/N) for four years when we were students. I suppose that's considerably longer than you've known her, Father?"
The Chairman raises an eyebrow, not liking the attitude he was getting from his son. "Excuse me, Jumin? It's true that I've only known sweet (Y/N) for a few weeks but our love is genuine, and I don't appreciate your implication."
"Your love is genuine?" Jumin responds swiftly. "Father, this girl is younger than me. You're marrying someone who should be your daughter."
You feel like this is a part where you should butt in and say something about how much you care about Chairman Han, despite his age, but thankfully the waiter interrupts the two men before you have to.
"Gentlemen, lady, might I take your orders?" He asks, and the tension in the room seems to settle.
Jumin orders his 'usual', whatever that is, but you haven't even had the opportunity to look at the menu. Momentarily flustered, you glance at your fiancé for help, but much to your relief, he orders for you.
He smiles generously at you once the waiter is gone as he pours you a glass of wine that had been brought to your table, and you try to ignore the fact that you won't be able to eat half of what he ordered for you.
"So, how is C&R doing?" You ask, trying to make conversation. "My family was checking this morning, and it seems that your stocks are faring extremely well."
"Business is going brilliantly, darling," The Chairman says, taking your comment as an invitation to regale you with all the details of how he secured two new investors in one day. You try to stay interested in what he's saying, but you find it difficult not to lose focus when the older man starts to rant about his theories for when the next depression will hit.
You spend the next few moments lost in your thoughts as you stare mindlessly into the man's eyes, seeming interested in his conversation but worlds away in mind. It's only when he dons a suspicious smile and slides his hand onto your thigh that you instinctively flinch, spilling wine on yourself.
You immediately stand up, apologizing for the mess while excusing yourself to the bathroom, finding an escape from the situation as fast as possible.
By the time you're in a stall, tears have already welled up in your eyes and you have to bend your body over and stare straight into the ground to prevent the tears from falling onto your cheeks. You can't risk ruining your makeup. You can't let Chairman Han think anything is wrong.
Calm down, (Y/N), You reason with yourself. If you're truly going to go through with this marriage, then you'll have to get used to Chairman Han touching you like that. You'll have to be prepared for even worse.
But just beginning to think about such awful things brings such a wave of nausea through your body that you decide it's best not to think about it at all, and you instead focus on your dress, dapping toilet paper at the small spot that's still wet.
You hear the bathroom door open, and initially pay it no mind until a familiar voice calls out to you.
"(Y/N)?"
Your heart nearly stops.
"J-Jumin?"
The voice pauses, before sighing. "Yeah. It's me."
Slowly, dreading the moment that's about to follow, you open the bathroom stall door and face the man, praying for this encounter to be over quickly.
"This is the woman's bathroom, in case you hadn't realized." You frown.
"I had." Jumin crosses his arms. "But I doubt you want to have this conversation in front of my father."
You stay silent.
"You spilled that wine on purpose," Jumin says. There's not an ounce of hesitation in his voice, and the way he says it, you can't even pretend that he's lying.
"On purpose, yes, but I do love your father." Woah. The way you said that so readily, you almost believe yourself.
Jumin takes a step closer to you, tilting your chin upward so he can better see your face in the fluorescent lights above. "You were crying," He says. Another fact.
"This was a nice dress. It's made me sad that I spilled wine on it."
"I don't recall you being that superficial."
"Why do you care?" You ask, taking a step back. Jumin's penetrating gaze bores into you, and you have to look away before your eyes can reveal how your heart feels.
"You've managed to convince my fool of a father that you're in love with him, and while I could not care less about you, I do mind what happens to him."
"I care about your father too," You say, but you can tell Jumin doesn't believe you.
"You care about him? Why, only ten seconds ago, you loved him. How much longer until you reveal your true intentions? I saw how fast you moved that wine glass, you can't tolerate his touch any more than you love him."
"I felt uncomfortable with you there," You respond swiftly. For a second, Jumin is taken aback, unsure of how to respond, and you take that as a victory. Have you finally said the right thing?
"Why are you doing this, (Y/N)? You could have almost any man you want, but really—my father? Your company is doing well enough that you don't need our finances, your family has more than enough connections, and it's not like..."
Jumin trailed off, his eyes narrowing.
"Is BC-Sonic in legal trouble?"
You practically roll your eyes at Jumin's absurd suggestion. "No!"
"Then why?!" Jumin asks. "Why have you targeted my father, of all the weak men in the world? What do you stand to gain from this marriage?"
You swallowed your doubts and took a step forward, knowing that if you had even the slightest hesitation when you uttered the following words Jumin wouldn't believe them. "Because I love him, Jumin."
And in that moment, it very well may have been true.
Near fifteen minutes later, the three of you are seated back at the table, making polite conversation about how C&R's export expansion goals would benefit from BC-Sonic's business connections in the Americas.
In fact, from a distance, the three of you look united. Jumin even smiles at you when you made a joke, and you feel a smidgen of hope flutter in your stomach when you realize that the three of you look almost like a family.
Your mother would be proud, you tell yourself, ignoring the fact that, to any outsider, they'd assume you to be betrothed to Jumin rather than his balding father.
Chairman Han is about to give Jumin some additional business advice when suddenly, he receives an emergency call from work.
You watch him from afar as he answers the phone, the pit of worry in your stomach growing stronger and stronger as you recognize the lines on his face contort into exasperation, then concern, and finally anger.
"(Y/N), darling, I'm afraid I have to fly out tonight," Chairman Han says, already wearing his jacket. "There's been some kind of security breach with our Director of International Communications and he's refusing to speak with me over the phone. I'll try to be back as quickly as possible, but..." The man trails off, and you realize where he's leading.
Where will you stay?
The words your mother said to you right before leaving suddenly seem more ominous than ever.
I do not want any calls from you saying that you've messed this up. Do you hear me? Do not ruin this for us, (Y/N).
Does this count as a mess-up? What will your parents say? Can this cause the engagement to be canceled?
"Jumin, would you mind allowing (Y/N) to rest in your apartment for the night? I'll be back as soon as I can, and I don't want her flying all the way out to the BC-Sonic headquarters just tonight."
You bite your lip.
Staying with Jumin, horrible as it sounds, is still better than admitting failure to your parents. You gaze at him with hopeful eyes, and when he reluctantly agrees to his father's request, you have to physically prevent yourself from jumping for joy.
Chairman Han still seems apprehensive about the situation, regret painted on his features even as he rushes out of the restaurant, but suddenly your entire world seems brighter without the prospect of entertaining the older gentleman for the evening.
Unfortunately for you, though, Jumin picks up on your newfound happiness.
"You say you love him, but the first genuine smile I've seen from you all night only comes after he's gone."
You frown at Jumin, mood dampened.
"And how would you know what one of my genuine smiles looks like?"
Jumin sighs, putting down his fork. "(Y/N), we were in the same class for five years. My memory isn't so poor that I'd forget something so memorable that easily."
"'Something so memorable?' Are you saying that my smile is weird?" You accuse Jumin jokingly, hoping him to distract him from the topic of your engagement to his father.
"Of course not," He blurts, but it feels like the tips of his ears are the slightest bit pinker than they were one second ago. "Just eat your food so the two of us can be out of here as quickly as possible. I'm sure you're as eager for this night to end as I am."
You ignore Jumin's rudeness, glancing down at your plate. You awkwardly stab the corner of the dish and take a hesitant bite of it before butting your fork down, immediately realizing that your entire dish is inedible to you.
"What's wrong with the food?" Jumin asks. "Did the chef make a mistake while cooking it?"
You drag your eyes away from Jumin, suddenly hating the situation.
You want to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this.
"(Y/N)?" Jumin asks again, more gentle this time.
"I can't," You murmur under your breath, too quiet for anyone to hear. But Jumin's expectant expression forces you to repeat yourself. "I can't!"
"You can't what?"
"I can't eat this meal."
"...Is there a reason?"
You stay silent, already knowing that if you tell Jumin the truth, he'll just use it as ammo to ridicule the engagement between you and Chairman Han.
But as the silence stretches from uncomfortable to unbearable, you force the words past your lips. "I'm allergic to tomatoes."
And the dish Chairman Han had ordered for you was tomato-wrapped scallops with pineapple quinoa.
"And you two claim to be in love," Jumin mutters under his breath, scoffing. Wordlessly, he switches his barely-touched plate for yours and makes no further attempts at conversation.
You don't need to read his mind to know the mocking thoughts flitting through his mind, ridiculing the fact that your own fiancé didn't know such a simple fact about you.
The rest of the evening is spent in silence. But from the way Jumin stabs his scallops, you sense something deeper. Cruelty? Resentment? Hate?
Anger.