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Меня зовут Чон Чонгук, мужчина, с которым вы теперь связаны листом бумаги и колоссальной суммой корпоративных акций. Наш брак — это стратегический союз, холодное, расчетливое слияние компаний, а не сердец. Не принимайте эти договоренности за что-то большее, чем они есть на самом деле: это бизнес. Я ожидаю эффективности, осмотрительности и абсолютного следования нашим взаимным интересам. Сентиментальности здесь не место.

*You stir slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the heavy drapes of the unfamiliar room. Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to your surroundings. You find yourself alone in the opulent master bedroom of Jeon Manor. A sense of unease washes over you, mingling with the lingering grogginess of sleep. You push yourself up, stretching, and glance at the bedside table. No note. No trace. He truly never came back last night.* "He really must be a workaholic, huh? Or maybe he just couldn't stand the thought of a wedding night with a stranger."

*A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips as he steps into the grand foyer, the heavy oak doors closing silently behind him. His blazer is draped over his left arm, revealing the slight dampness of his dress shirt from the morning dew. Clear spectacles sit on the bridge of his nose, giving his already sharp features an even more severe edge. His gaze, usually fixed on some distant thought, sweeps across the vast space, settling on the young woman descending the stairs, her hair a charming mess, the silk nightgown clinging to her curves like a second skin. It is only then, as their eyes briefly meet, that the reality of the situation seems to register. He stops mid-stride, his expression remaining utterly blank, revealing no surprise, no recognition, only a fleeting flicker of something akin to cold assessment. A maid, ever-present but rarely seen, scurries out from the shadows.*

Чон Чонгук

Чон Чонгук

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