Chapter Text
Minjeong wakes up and she really wishes she didn’t.
Not in a bad, suicidal way. But more in a “What the fuck? Why do I have a marching band in my head playing Roman Holiday at 2x speed right now?” kind of a way.
In other words, death would be better than this headache that makes Minjeong feel like one massive throbbing blob.
She’s never letting Aeri instigate her for a night of drinking ever again. She can’t even hold her liquor either. There’s something criminal about that. Aeri should be dying with her, not opening her curtains and singing to birds about how wonderful it is to have a new day.
Screw a new day. It doesn’t have to be a new day if she’s still asleep.
Which she isn’t.
Fuck.
Maybe Minjeong’s dramatizing things but the fact that she’s awake and not blissfully asleep warrants such exaggeration.
“Minjeong, wake up.”
Minjeong answers with a string of groans.
“You have a wife,” Aeri says. To Minjeong it sounds like “womp womp womp womp.”
“Did you hear me?”
Garbled and heavy with sleep, “No.”
“Kim Minjeong, listen to me,” Aeri cruelly yanks her blanket away. God, has the sun always been so damn bright? “I need you to focus.” When Minjeong groans again, faceplanted into the bed to avoid all of the light agitating her headache, her friend gently shakes her. “I’m being so serious. As serious as the shots I kept giving you.”
Oh. So. Very serious. She should’ve just fucking thrown up if it was going to save her from this misery.
“You have a wife.”
Record scratch. Pause.
What?
Peeking a squinted eye at her, Minjeong grouses, “I have a wife? Since when did I have a wife? I think I would remember marrying someone.”
“Not if you’re wasted, dummy.”
“Huh?!”
Aeri’s phone comes into view, her thumb pressed to her screen to pause the Instagram story on her feed. “Look…”
It’s kind of hard to see. Both because Minjeong isn’t wearing her glasses and because her pupils refuse to dilate properly and help a girl out. But, vaguely, she sees little dots of flashes from phones, a moderate crowd of people, a snazzy coat, and a pixelated pretty girl. The two girls in focus are doing a love shot, encouraged by rowdy cheers.
“What am I looking at?”
“Dude.”
“What?”
“Read the sign.”
Squinting even more that she looks like her mom when she’s trying to show her something on her phone, “Congrats to the newlyweds…”
Huh. Would you look at that?
“Are you sure that’s me?”
Aeri deadpans with a face that looks offended to even be asked such a question. “Minjeong, who else do you know has ginger hair and wears clothes that look like an entire art store threw up on them?”
“Hey now! That’s a nice coat!”
Raising her hands innocently, Aeri says, “I didn’t say it was ugly! It’s just…distinct.”
“Don’t lie. You thought of a nice way to say it’s ugly.”
“It’s not ugly! Would I ever wear it? Absolutely not. I’ll be dead before you catch me wearing it. But it’s not ugly!”
“Yeah, whatever, Aeri.”
Aeri shakes her head, thrusting her phone at Minjeong again.
“Look even closer. Do you know who that is?”
Minjeong cannot get physically closer to Aeri’s phone. If she did, it’d become part of her face. But still, she pays more attention to the raven haired girl in front of her.
“No? Should I?”
Flopping onto her bed, Aeri groans, “You’re a piece of work, Minjeong. Get out of the rock you’re under from time to time. That’s Yu Jimin.” The more lost Minjeong looks, the more frustrated Aeri becomes and honestly, good! She wants Aeri to get frustrated. Maybe she’ll feel as fussy as she does. “She’s- Do you know those ads you see for Bibigo?”
“Yeah?”
“And the ads for Nongshim?”
“Yeah?”
“You see them because she approves of them. You married a fucking conglomerate, Kim Minjeong!”
Now, hold on.
That’s ridiculous. There’s no way she’d marry a stranger, nonetheless, a hoity toity big name woman who probably has people do her laundry.
“Ha ha. Very funny, Aeri.”
Aeri looks like she’s two seconds away from pulling out her hair. “Minjeong! Look at your fucking ring finger! That diamond can pay off your loans! Who the hell do you think gave you that?”
How…did she not notice a rock that fucking big and shiny? She could probably see her reflection in it.
Oh, Kim Minjeong, you’ve really done it now.
-
As it turns out, it’s pretty easy finding Jimin.
Not only is she, like, the woman of the hour and everyone seems to keep tabs on her, but she’s also hosting a celebratory lunch buffet at the Bacchanal.
Which Minjeong knew nothing about. Until an anonymous number texts her.
unknown: Hello! Is this Minjeong?
minjeong: …depends
minjeong: who’s asking???
unknown: This is Ning Yizhuo, Yu Jimin’s right hand. You have been formally invited, all expenses covered, to this afternoon’s celebratory lunch at Caesar Palace’s Bacchanal at 1PM.
Whoever Ning Yizhuo is, she must be a person of importance. Or awfully serious. What person with a fun personality types with perfect grammar and zero emojis?
This conversation is missing some zing. Some pizzazz.
minjeong: how do i know if ur legit? what if u kidnap me and take my identity or sumn?
minjeong: just to let u know i’m kinda broke. there’s not a lot to take 🤷🏼♀️
Yizhuo’s replies are just as formal and polite as before.
Tough crowd.
unknown: I assure you there’s nothing of yours we want other than your presence.
unknown: But I understand your apprehension. Please see that we became acquainted last night.
unknown: [Attachments sent]
In the pictures, it’s…yup. That’s Minjeong for sure—red, rosy cheeks and happy crescent eye smiles. If it weren’t for Aeri’s life-changing wake up call, she wouldn’t know which pretty girl sandwiching her is her wife (aka the one kissing her cheek, faintest lipstain left behind, in one of the other photos).
Some real first world problems, right?
Minjeong makes more deductions about Yizhuo. The woman, winking at the camera with glossy, red pursed lips, is definitely not a boring person. No boring person just casually fists bottles of Blue Label Johnnie Walker. Pour spout screwed in. Minjeong can only imagine what damage they were doing with that bottle. Hell, she’s sure she might even have it rumbling in her tummy right now.
Minjeong wants to meet Party Girl Yizhuo. Corporate Cog Yizhuo is too serious for her taste. But that’s beside the point.
Now that she can see Jimin clearly, Minjeong thinks Instagram should be paying Jimin to have her on it. She’d do more for the algorithm than Instagram would do for her. She’s stunning. Her raven hair is cut and styled in a wolfcut (already, Minjeong’s obsessed with how it looks on her), smokey eye makeup highlights the cold blue contacts she wears. She has a small face—probably three of Minjeong’s fists combined. But it’s the features on the face that render her speechless. Minjeong’s no stranger to pretty girls; she has lived a nice, fulfilling life of being a women lover and enjoyer. Which means she has, like, more credibility, or whatever, when she says, with sober eyes and mind, that Jimin is the most beautiful woman she has ever seen in her entire life. This is even without personal, sentimental bias. If Jimin has managed to be a decent person, and not a massive, privileged piece of shit, she’d be even more beautiful.
The first thing that stands out to Minjeong is her lips. (If it’s not hands, it’s lips. Minjeong is not above beating the gay allegations.) They’re matte, a ruby red, full and entirely too nice for Minjeong’s own good. The mole dotted underneath it is charming, kind of like a directional pointer that says, “bet you wanna kiss these lips!”. Or maybe Minjeong’s just appreciating women as she usually does.
Drunk Minjeongie, while stupid with her decisions, is not stupid when it comes to choosing gorgeous girls to suddenly marry. She’s pretty sure she married the most beautiful conglomerate in the world.
It’s too good to be true. Her luck has never been this spectacular. And disastrous at the same time.
minjeong: if i go
minjeong: and that’s IF i go
minjeong: can i bring my friend?
Quickly, Yizhuo has a response.
undercover abg?: If you are inquiring about Uchinaga Aeri’s invitation, Mrs. Yu has also extended an invite to her.
This conversation has only reminded Minjeong of the mess she’s in.
Mrs. Yu. A whole M R S.
Which…makes Minjeong, no longer Kim, Mrs. Yu Minjeong.
The headache from the morning comes back full force like it’s pummeling her brain into mush.
Fuck.
But this is free food we’re talking about here. Like, upper echelon, expensive, fancy ass food.
Minjeong weighs her scale: possible creep kidnapping her versus free bougie buffet meal paid for by her new, pretty wife(??).
She’s willing to take her chances. When is she ever going to have the financial stability to freely indulge in a meal that costs so much? And if she dies, she dies. There could be worse ways for her to go. Right? Death by pretty girl sounds like a sweet way to die.
minjeong: ning yizhuo, do u know how to eat crab legs?
undercover abg: Yes? Why?
minjeong: i hear it’s crab brunch starting at 1PM.
minjeong: i love crab
minjeong: u can tell ur boss i'll be there 🫡
undercover abg?: [Contact card sent]
undercover abg?: Minjeong, here’s your wife’s number. However, she is unreachable by phone today due to unforeseen circumstances.
undercover abg?: We will be seeing you soon, Minjeong.
It’s currently 10:30 AM, meaning Aeri’s due back in less than fifteen minutes with painkillers and a pizza from one of the hotel’s restaurants.
minjeong: aeri, skip the cheap pizza
minjeong: my wife is paying for our bougie buffet meal
minjeong: baby’s gotta get full off of prime rib and crab legs
When Aeri texts back, Minjeong can hear the sarcasm in it.
mommy warbucks 🤑: oh so she’s your wife when it’s convenient 🙄
minjeong: i thought i was supposed to get out of the rock i’m under. i should meet my wife properly, shouldn’t i 🥺
mommy warbucks 🤑: don’t use that face on me
minjeong: what else can i do? i can’t just go up to her and say “hey! we just met! let’s get divorced!”
minjeong: yizhuo said it was celebratory
minjeong: i don’t wanna rain on her parade or sumn
While brushing her teeth and, oh, is that the lipstain Jimin left on her cheek?
mommy warbucks 🤑: minjeong, you can’t even remember meeting her.
mommy warbucks 🤑: i don’t think she’ll get too hurt if you say that to her
Scrubbing it and seeing red on her fingertips, the consequences of her decisions become more and more real.
Not to say that the ginormous rock on her finger doesn’t do its own heavy lifting of confirming reality.
Ugh. This is much more than Minjeong signed up for last night. Now, she has to undo all of it.
Fuck.
minjeong: i don’t wanna be rude though
minjeong: i can talk to her after lunch
minjeong: if she’s inviting us, that means she remembers something. maybe i can get some answers about what happened from her.
Aeri’s text, coming much later, is much more sincere.
mommy warbucks 🤑: sorry for getting you so drunk you blacked out and got married to a stranger 💀
mommy warbucks 🤑: i would’ve stopped you if i also…didn’t drink so much 🥴
minjeong: it’s okay 🥲
minjeong: but you owe me next time
minjeong: it’s my turn to fuck you up
When Aeri replies with a salute emoji, Minjeong gets busy with looking presentable. Sure, she feels like she rolled out of bed into the gayest version of hell possible—which, retrospectively, doesn’t sound very hellish but that’s unimportant—but Minjeong can try to look like she hasn’t died and made very life-changing changes in a night.
After all, she has a wife to dress up for.
-
Lunch is scrumptious.
Lunch consists of plates and plates and plates of crab legs and prime rib, cuisine from around the world, sweets that complete her meal.
Lunch also consists of Minjeong, Aeri, Yizhuo, and Yu Jimin.
A humble gathering compared to the group she saw in Aeri’s stories.
Yizhuo, as expected, isn’t as boring in person. She’s actually radiant and really fucking hilarious. Minjeong knew that the moment Yizhuo greeted her by saying, “Good afternoon, drunkie! I’m guessing my loser best friend took you back to your room safely and in one piece.”
(That is also when Minjeong learns Yizhuo is more than just a corporate cog to Jimin, but also her best friend—arguably a more important role in life. Probably close and endearing to her because no one calls a casual friend their bestie a loser like there’s years worth of love in it.)
Jimin, also, isn’t what Minjeong expected.
Sue her for having stereotypical prejudices, but Minjeong has met enough rich, entitled people in her life. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Jimin was like them.
But shockingly, true to Yizhuo’s words, Yu Jimin is, more or less, a loser.
Minjeong means that kindly. Maybe even fondly. That’s still up for debate.
Minjeong knows Jimin’s a loser because what COO has a teddy bear phone case and a Shin Chan watchface? Her baby hairs that stick up like sprouts don’t help her case either; Minjeong’s almost tempted to pat them down but she’d never stop a woman’s bag of charms. Maybe it’s also the way she struggles to eat the pile of crab legs she got.
If someone told Minjeong that the first full conversation (that she remembers) with her wife would be a tutorial on how to crack crab legs, she’d laugh and make a wish upon a star because only something as ridiculous and fantastical as that would otherwise be called a dream.
But, alas, here she is.
“Yeah, so just wiggle it a little. You wanna hear a crack,” the crab leg in her hand crisply cracks, “but you don’t-”
“Ack!”
“...wanna break it.”
“Oh. Oops.”
Sometimes, Minjeong lacks the ability to hold back her reactions.
This is one of those times.
Huffing out a laugh, Jimin’s guilty puppy dog eyes pout at her.
“It’s okay. Here,” Minjeong says, gently pulling at the indents she’s made into her crab leg to separate the shells and reveal rich, red speckled meat, “have mine and try again for your next one.”
Staring at the deshelled crab meat on her plate, Jimin’s pout only grows when she looks dejectedly at hers, completely halved and messy.
(Minjeong gets the feeling that Jimin’s one of those people who are experiencing living for the first time. She carries herself with refreshing zeal, an unending joy and excitement.)
“Gimme that.” Swapping it for a new crab leg, Minjeong keeps her voice light and airy, “It’s fun fishing sometimes. Makes the reward sweeter.” Smirking to poorly disguise her earnest encouragement, she teases, “Redeem yourself. When you’re ready.”
Looking too entirely determined to successfully crack a crab leg, Jimin nods to herself—like she’s preparing herself for something.
It’s…not that serious.
But it makes Minjeong laugh.
Whatever pep talk Jimin gave herself is a charm. Two careful cracks, cautious finessing, perfectly separated shells.
“Congratulations on graduating The School of Cracking Crab Legs, Yu Jimin!”
It’s a bold statement. But, somehow, the stupid, self-satisfied, and victorious smirk Jimin has is better than the seafood heaven in front of her.
Wild.
But true.
If it makes her this happy, may Jimin live long and have a prosperous career cracking crab legs!
So yeah, Jimin’s a golden retriever conglomerate who could probably pay for a personal chef, but she has sincerity that glimmers.
Whatever Drunk Minjeongie was thinking last night to marry the woman in front of her probably had very logical reasoning.
Jimin’s far from awful—very near to magnetizing.
This is when Minjeong meets charm as a person. A person who’s lawfully her wife.
She’s still gonna divorce her though.
She can’t just be married to someone she’s just met! Minjeong’s made plenty of rash and maybe stupid decisions (leaving the comfort of home and thrusting herself in a completely new place to grow and find inspiration again). This cannot be one. Partially because the only reason she so easily married Jimin in the first place is because she’s in fucking Vegas doing Vegas Things like making fuckass decisions!
Though, her choice of wife is extremely far from fuckass and closer to pristine.
Good job, Drunk Minjeongie!
-
It seemed so easy.
She was going to thank Jimin for the meal, ask her to stay after everyone left to talk to her privately, ask for a divorce, get a divorce, done deal, end of day.
It was not that easy.
“Um…actually, I’m about to ask a huge favor of you.”
Oh no.
OH NO.
This never ever ends well.
“Just to…emphasize…that this is a favor because I know it’s asking for a lot.” Oh God, Jimin, just get to the point! “Can we…stay married…for a while so that my parents don’t become suspicious about what I’m doing here?”
Fuck.
FUCK!
Minjeong wants to say, “Hell no!” She should say, “Hell no!” Every rational part of her is telling her to.
Withering from her silence, Jimin is only discouraged for so long.
“I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t need to. I have a lot to prove. I’m doing something really good here and I can’t let one night take away everything I worked for. I know I’m being awful to you.” Frustrated, either at Minjeong or the situation she isn’t sure, Jimin complains, “Why did you marry me?! I’m the worst person to marry!”
Scoffing at her, Minjeong retorts, “Why are you blaming me? You married me!”
Jimin shakes her head passionately. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
Not the first time Minjeong’s heard that. Oof.
Helplessness in how she gestures through the air, Jimin reasons, “I- yes. I know I married you. That was my decision; I can’t take it back. And I’m sorry, but I know everyone and I don’t know you. I don’t mean to be rude, we just have different lives.” Then, she frowns again, worried, “I don’t know what I married into, but you marrying me means you married the entire Yu empire!”
Okay. Woah.
Jimin’s just being dramatic.
Right?!
“My parents already found out about it before I could do damage control.” Jimin glares at the table, as if upset at herself, “I should’ve been more cautious—I had a feeling they had people reporting to them. But, now they know. And they expect to meet you. They’re under the impression that we’ve secretly been together long enough for me to declare a public relationship and that I no longer cared more for my career than my love life.”
This Jimin is harrowingly sobering. Like, a bucket full of water from Antartica on her head. Which means Minjeong’s getting throttled by how abrupt Jimin’s demeanour change was. There is nothing but desperate earnesty in her pleading eyes. Minjeong acknowledges that it takes a shattering amount of humility, blind faith, and hope to ask this of a complete stranger. As batshit as it is. It’s a complete jump of faith.
Is it possible to earn so much trust in so many hours?
“Jimin, the only empire I had was a monopoly of study guides for math tests in high school. You’re pulling my leg. I can’t possibly be in charge of actual, real businesses. You’re fucking crazy.”
Straightening up, Jimin’s eyes get this new glint to them, almost competitive—thrilled to have found an apparent spark in morale. “I can help you. I have a good team. I’m confident in them because I trained them. Which means I’m confident in you. I’m positive I can teach you to know everything you need to know.” Minjeong doesn’t know how Jimin looks so nonchalant, as if she didn’t make a life changing decision some handful of hours ago, “And, Minjeong, we got married after a few hours of knowing each other on a drunken whim. It’s not just me who’s crazy.”
Valid. Very fair.
It’s extremely fucking crazy that Minjeong has a wife. She has awful dating luck—she hasn’t even had a steady girlfriend that lasted longer than a year since her last semester of college! She doesn’t know a thing about Yu Jimin other than her cute loserisms or her stupid empire or that she’s stupidly pretty and has stupidly soft looking lips. She doesn’t even know this woman’s favorite color or food and she’s already given up her last name for hers.
Oh my God.
This splitting headache is tearing Minjeong apart.
“Okay, but here’s the thing. Me and big corporations,” Minjeong gestures between her and Jimin, “don’t get along. They don’t like me and I don’t like them. I’ve the whole “starving artist” thing going on. We are two completely different people from two completely different worlds. It’s not going to work.”
“Not with that attitude.”
“Jimin!”
It’s funny how Jimin looks dead serious. It’s really fucking funny that she doesn’t look a bit swayed or intimidated, “I’m being serious! You like creative input, you showed me your portfolio yesterday, you’re good at what you do. I can work with that. You just have to be willing to work with me.” Jimin, almighty COO of Yu Industries, copyright owner of multiple popular products, influencer of all influencers, pouts, “Please consider it? You’ll be helping me, in more ways than I could explain, my dad doesn’t take away everything I busted my ass for, I’ll be indebted to you. And I mean, think about it! You’ll get something out of this arrangement, too. Once people see that you worked with me and my family, they’re gonna see you as an asset. You won’t even need those hotshot companies—you could start your own or be a freelancer. That was one of your dreams, wasn’t it? To not have to report to anyone?”
(There’s a few things bouncing around in her head.
One: how does Jimin remember anything about what they talked about last night? Minjeong remembered jack shit.
Two: she isn’t a nepo baby! She’s come this far without help! How dare Jimin say that she needs her connection to matter?!)
Jimin calmly shakes her head after seeing irritation flush Minjeong’s cheeks pink. “Don’t misunderstand, Minjeong. I’m not dismissing your merit. I’m sure you’ve earned what you have now. But I know how it works. I understand why you don’t like big corporations. I know it’s unfair. No matter how good you are or what your potential is, you’re nothing to them unless you have connections. Let me give you the boost you need to be someone to them. And I promise that as soon as we can, we’ll divorce and you’ll be free.”
Brutally honest truths have never sounded so pretty; Minjeong would give Jimin that.
Stupid pretty businesswomen and their stupid enticing proposals. It’s no wonder why Jimin has the reputation she has. She’s awfully persuasive and cunning when she wants to be.
“Do you agree?”
Minjeong sighs. This is, like, signing away her life or something. If she was part of an artist’s guild, they’d turn their back on her if she agreed. Oh well. She isn’t in one anyway. Call her Yu Minjeong because, “Yeah. Sure. I agree.”
Lit like she’s drinking the sun in her gross bean water Americano, Jimin’s stoic seriousness dissipates into a bright grin and cheers, “Yay! Okay, wifey, let’s fool a nation!”
Minjeong rolls her eyes and slumps against the wall. She needs to learn how to refuse pretty women; this is embarassing. Too humbling. Minjeong didn’t even need humbling—she’s already having a job and inspiration crisis. Isn’t that enough to humble anyone?
Jimin rattles on about their plan and suggestions, already has people on her team drafting a Real and Serious contract for Minjeong to read and sign should she agree with the terms.
What exactly did she just say yes to?
-
Shouldn’t there be more rules to this arranged marriage situation? There was even a “too many words I did not read” contract that she had to sign.
(Exactly two Bellagio water shows later, Minjeong marched her ass over to Jimin’s room. Looking at the view she has, Minjeong hears Jimin’s padded footsteps as she paces, “You already signed this? Did you even look it over?”
Plopping on the end of her bed and playing with the frayed strings of her hole-y jeans, Minjeong’s nonchalance is in the effortless monotony of her voice, “Yeah. I skimmed it. I agree.”
Jimin’s eyebrows screw together in confusion. It’s kinda really fucking cute, but that’s unimportant—just a mere observation. “Minjeong, this isn’t a Terms and Conditions to install iTunes. These- I don’t mean to be condescending, but the consequences, should any of the rules be broken, have legal repercussions. You’re positive you’re okay with that?
With an arched brow, Minjeong clicks her tongue, “For someone who’s asking me to play wife for her, you’re really not selling it for me. Aren’t you a successful businesswoman?”
Sitting next to her, Jimin places the contract between them. Jimin’s undivided attention on her feels something like basking in the sun on a nice spring day, but maybe Minjeong’s just feeling good because of the expensive four dollar sign buffet Jimin treated her to earlier on. “It’s not like that, Minjeong. I’m grateful for your cooperation, but I can still be decent and fair.”
“Yeah, well, I have nothing to lose and maybe this will give me the inspiration I need to get out of this slump.” Flipping through it one last time, boring lawyer speak about not getting exposed and NDA’s and legal fines blur together, “And like you said, you’re trying to be decent and fair. Would you really make a clause so awful I’d disagree?”
Jimin’s quiet for some moments, “…No.”
“Then, take the contract and stop doubting me, Yu Jimin. I’m your wife.”)
Contract aside, Minjeong has more autonomy than she thought she’d have. She thought she’d be relegated to being Jimin’s pretty housewife who cooks and cleans for her, thought that, maybe, she’d have to tailor her entire social circle with Jimin’s, but Jimin hasn’t asked that of her. There were three main components.
Unless already established, any Yu relation is to work within their company for the duration of two years before they are allowed to venture elsewhere.
(It was a stern and tiring standard but it worked to keep the generational legacy strong. Jimin is a cog in her own way, Minjeong concludes.)
But, that means Minjeong’s thrown into it. Because she’s definitely not established. She actually ran away from establishment. Funny how it forces its way back into her life, right when she feels ready to come back. Nevertheless, it’s only less awful because Jimin’s offering her a role in their creative marketing department.
Yes, Minjeong admits, she’s committing the heinous crime of nepotism.
The second component wasn’t as demanding—Minjeong didn’t see it that way. Jimin had asked that they occasionally spend time together to become familiar with each other for the moments that they do have to fake it. In which, those moments included: at the workplace when there are employees outside of Yizhuo, her family, and at any work or family events. But other than that, she has given her complete freedom to do what she wants so long as she shows up for work and performs decently enough to keep their design and marketing department afloat. Minjeong doesn’t know a thing about actually being good at that stuff but Jimin seems to believe she can make a corporate woman out of her.
There are a couple of events Jimin warned her about—she’ll have to be a pretty thing on Jimin’s arm and lose some memory space to cordially talk to old money bags with leering eyes. She hates that shit but she can make it work. She can make it all a mind game if she wanted to. It’s all about reframing. Plus, Jimin persuaded her with all of the fancy little snacks and bubbly champagne and free swag. (Like, who just gives out La Mer and Burberry perfume? For free?! That’s crazy.)
There’s only one thing she seemed particularly strict about:
“I’m not saying you can’t see other people. You can. You just can’t get caught. I would appreciate it if you tell me if, or when, you do see someone else. I don’t like to be in the dark. I don’t like to be blindsided. If there’s someone that you really connect to, I would like to know.” Jimin grimaces, clearly talking from experience, “But, also, be mindful of who you married. Even if we are in a position of power, vultures come to us like crows and shiny things. Privacy is hard to come by. There’s always someone looking, just to pick at faults and make something out of nothing. People will dig, they’ll get under your skin just for a little information. You have to be careful about who you open up to, the people who see you, the things they’ll do just to make money off of you.” The anger on Jimin’s face melts into something soft and supple, vulnerable in a devastating way, “It’s a hassle and, honestly, it hurts more than it’s a bother. So, I trust that you will choose your people wisely—it’s not just my privacy anymore, but yours as well.”
Looking Minjeong dead in the eye, Jimin doesn’t stutter or bluff, so transparent it’s practically impossible to not believe her, “I can tell you now, that for me, I won’t see anyone outside of you. I don’t have the time or effort to juggle multiple relationships but I’m also serious about making this as easy as I can for you. You’re stuck in this situation and it’s already difficult because of my name and who I am.” Minjeong’s never been proposed to. Or, she thinks she hasn’t. What she doesn’t remember doesn’t count. But, right now, Jimin’s earnesty feels like a proposal. “I don’t expect you to do the things I’ll do for you, but I promise I’ll be a good wife to you, Minjeong.”
Then, there’s her family. Arguably the hardest part according to Jimin.
“Alright,” Jimin gestures down to herself, “there’s me. And then there’s my family.” Finger pointed to her chest, “I am not like them and they are not like me. I’m the black sheep but I do everything they expect me to do so they tolerate me. I’ll say it now and I’ll say it in the future. I’m sorry for the way they’ll be treating you.”
If Jimin’s this pleasant, Minjeong dreads her family. The chances of them being awful are skyhigh. The proposition Jimin’s forcing herself through tells her enough she needs to know about Jimin’s family. Yikes. She can already feel her hair rising just thinking about meeting them.
Accidental arranged marriage aside, Minjeong likes Jimin. She’s still a woman of power and opulence. She never looks out of place, very rarely frazzled. She smells expensive, looks expensive because who the hell wears shirts with holes for fashion unless they have money? There’s no question about it. Yu Jimin doesn’t blend in with people. She stands out like a spectacle to behold.
It’s wild to Minjeong that someone of her likes managed to drink her way into this lavish lifestyle.
But, funnily enough, she genuinely likes Jimin. Despite her appearance, she’s down to earth and silly. Minjeong has heard more stupid jokes than she can count, has heard Jimin’s little self-satisfied laugh to herself every single time. Jimin likes her nicer things but she’s happy to shove a cheap, greasy pizza in her piehole if she’s offered. Minjeong’s pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to see it but she caught wind of a well-loved teddy tucked in Jimin’s bed.
Minjeong’s never really met a lot of COO’s, but she’s sure Jimin’s different from a lot of them.
She’s like a diamond in the rough, something special. Sure, at first, it was the handsome proposal of being connected to Jimin that persuaded Minjeong to agree, but she has a feeling she isn’t going to hate being married to someone like Yu Jimin.
As it is, as much of a stranger Jimin is, she radiates comfort and ease, a charismatic warmth that is unlike casual charm. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to play wife for Jimin. If she could make it easier for her too, there isn’t any reason why she shouldn’t.
Jimin’s kind and tolerant, respectful and polite. She’s generous and maybe too sympathetic, but maybe that’s why Minjeong likes her as a person before a businesswoman or fake-wife-in-crime.
This arrangement couldn’t be that bad.
Right?
-
Wrong!
It’s awful!
Learning business sucks! No wonder why Minjeong majored in Fine Arts and chose the woeful, struggling path of being a self-made artist.
It’s so fucking boring that even a woman as gorgeous as Jimin can’t get through to her thick skull. But, Minjeong’s willing to fight for herself.
There’s “pretty enough to pay attention” and then there’s “so fucking pretty I can’t think.”
Minjeong is very quickly learning Jimin is so fucking pretty she can’t think.
Thank God Jimin has her patience tested because Minjeong knows she’s testing her.
“Hello? Minjeong? Anyone home?” Jimin waves her hand in front of her face, wide eyes looking into hers.
Minjeong blinks, the shrouded glow of heaven behind Jimin and the choir of angels singing Hallelujah pops away like a bubble, “Uh. Sorry. I’m focusing now.”
Jimin lowly sighs, leans back in her seat. “I know this is boring for you. It’s boring for me too. But if you can pay attention for thirty minutes and show me you have a good handle on this, you’re free to tour around and bother our food scientists for samples.”
Winner winner chicken dinner! All aboard the focus train!
Minjeong listens to hellishly boring data and numbers mumbo jumbo for thirty minutes, tries even harder to not get distracted by Jimin for all thirty of them. Minjeong’s grateful for all of her ugly and mid professors (no offense to them). Her education would’ve been in grave danger if they had even a semblance of beauty like Jimin’s.
Focus, Minjeong!
It’s ironic. Minjeong’s trying to focus on the words she’s saying, but all she’s looking at are her soft and full lips, colored a chic and matte burgundy today, which is a big mistake because she can’t seem to look away. Math is the last thing on her mind but she and Jimin are lucky math maths to her. Not a lot of people would think she’s a human calculator but she’s sure the glaringly loud “I’m a fine arts major!” vibes are a good illusion.
Minjeong didn’t have a math monopoly in high school for nothing. She has clothes and albums bought with her side hustle of doing math homework for other students.
Everything Jimin’s telling her is making sense—it’s simple statistics. Not to brag, but Minjeong passed her stats class with a pretty little A and tests that never dipped below ninety, all with getting taught by a less than effective professor. It sounds simple enough. She’s meant to oversee projects and input her opinion, put on presentations to shareholders and board members, and interpret data. Which all just translates to: group project palooza, public speaking class, and real world statistics.
Doable! Much more so knowing that Jimin’s willing to coach her through any issues.
Minjeong still thinks Jimin’s faith in her is a little too generous but Minjeong also does this cute thing sometimes where she underestimates herself and dismisses herself, but that’s just what it is to have almost crippling self-awareness!
Either way, she has this boring businesswoman shit in the bag!
“Jimin, do you want any samples?”
The woman, back in her seat and looking at emails, is too busy looking at ugly, corporate passive aggressive lingo to properly speak to Minjeong, “I’m fine, thanks.”
Not to be up her ass and narcissistic, but Minjeong’s pretty sure she’s better to look at than boring emails. With a playful accusatory drawl in her voice, she smirks, “Don’t tell me you don’t eat your own food. How do you know if it’s good?!”
She’s ecstatic to see she’s pushed the right buttons because Jimin glares at her (like a cute disgruntled puppy) and whines. “I know it’s good!” Jimin harrumphs. “I try everything! Trust me, you have to sample the japchae and the honey butter tteokbokki chips!”
“Hmm, okay! If you say so, Mrs. Yu.” Mischievous spark in her eyes and smirk, Minjeong teasingly points at her, “If it’s gross, you’re gonna hear from me!”
Jimin’s smile, in her eyes and on her lips, is genuine and sweet, something like a daydream, something like cotton candy soft and dreamy and enchanting.
How do these people not fall in love with their boss? Like, yeah, that’s a huge HR disaster but whatever.
Before Minjeong opens the door to leave, there’s a light and playful lilt to Jimin’s farewell, “I’ll see you after work, Mrs. Yu! Enjoy your food! I promise it’ll be tasty! You worked hard!”
Ugh.
Why couldn’t she be awful and terrible? Minjeong can’t hate all corporations if Jimin’s this damn charming.
Fuck.
-
Yu Industries is bustling—busy people with loaded agendas and projects to finish, down to the finance department and the cleaning staff, food scientists and creative teams. While the environment encourages teamwork and collaboration—that much would be necessary to pull off the caliber of success Yu Industries has—there is an undeniable tension that keeps the whole show moving along.
The pace is fast and competitive. These are people with something to prove; it reminds Minjeong that Jimin is also striving to make an impact—to show her potential and grit, her worth.
Could she really fit into a place like this? She’s used to going with the flow of her creativity, letting it dictate how she sees art, how it takes control of her when she’s allowed the time and space. This workplace is all structure and deadlines, things that are too entirely restraining to Minjeong.
But she could try, couldn’t she?
Minjeong’s used to the feeling of people staring.
Whether it’s because of the eccentric but tasteful clothes she wears, emphasis on tasteful much to Aeri’s disapproval, or the fact that she’s aware she’s pretty, Minjeong knows she can make heads turn.
She can add “being the wife to their boss” to her list because no matter how hard they try to be secretive about it, the weight of their stares and questions burn the back of her head.
Wasn’t Jimin supposed to do a PR release or something? She’s sure that would answer some of their questions.
Like who’s this new chick that suddenly got a gig at one of the most influential and rapidly growing companies.
Oh, if Minjeong worked here and some new girl got a competitive spot just by marrying into the family, she’d be seething.
She was already planning on working hard to meet Jimin’s expectations—it would only be fair.
(Truthfully, Jimin had set the pace for their relationship. If she was willing to put her best foot forward and treat Minjeong with the respect and kindness she knows she deserves, she would do the same for Jimin.
And if Jimin was an awful bitch, well. Minjeong could be an awful bitch back if she’s mad enough.
But, Jimin’s been nothing but an angel so, Minjeong’s on her best behavior.)
But, knowing that a golden opportunity has fallen into her lap, she won’t waste it. She won’t give anyone a reason to criticize herself or Jimin. She won’t fumble Jimin’s graciousness or her effort to make their situation as easy as possible.
If this was going to be her marriage with Jimin, it could stand to be greater than awkward transactions or one on one tutoring sessions. A partnership can be more than romantic—Minjeong would be the best damn fake, nepo wife in the whole world.
It’s like they say, happy wife, happy life, right?
She never thought she’d be thinking that so soon, but there’s no denying she’s in the pursuit of having a happy wife and life.
Popping yummy fried tteoks in her mouth, perfectly sweet and salty, crunchy and chewy, Minjeong schemes to herself.
It’s not a competition. It’s not even necessary, but Minjeong’s gonna be so good to her she’s gonna make Jimin fall in love with her.
Or…something like that. To hell with logistics.
Jimin, despite being piss drunk, married her for some reason. There was something about Minjeong she liked—enough to tie the knot with her. Which, obviously, applies to Minjeong too.
Maybe being Jimin’s wife won’t be the worst thing in the world.