"Why you? Of course," the woman said, her voice measured, patient.
"No. No, thank you." I shifted, the floor creaking beneath me like a warning.
"Your dowry is sizeable, and you stand to gain much from this union, dear girl." She smiled, but there was steel beneath it, the kind of patience reserved for stubborn children.
"Dowry?" A sharp laugh burst from me. "My money is spoken for."
My parents relied on it. My siblings did too. I wasn't some heiress playing pretend.
Still, maybe this was part of the act. Soo-yeon always went all out, convinced my obsession with financial security wasn't healthy or "ladylike."
Soo-yeon.
Where was she?
A chill coiled in my stomach.
"I don't know what kind of historical reenactment or game this is, but I'm not playing along. Thanks, but no thanks." I turned—
Two guards blocked my path.
The unease sharpened into something cold.
The woman didn't waver. "You misunderstand, child. This is not a game."
The air thickened, pressing down on me. No hidden cameras. No laughing Soo-yeon. Just the silence stretching too long.
Then—
A voice behind me.
Low. Smooth. Amused.
"What a strange creature," he mused. "I didn't think it would be this easy."
I turned.
My supposed groom.
His smile was lazy, his dark eyes gleaming with something close to satisfaction. A man who already considered the deal done.
I forced myself to smirk. "Hey, it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."
His lips curled. "Bad luck is for the weak." He stepped closer, and the guards tensed—not at me, but at him. "Besides, I've been watching you all day."
My stomach twisted.
Any other man, I would have reported. But he wasn't just a man. He carried himself with the ease of someone who never heard no—because no one dared say it to him.
Power. Real power.
And power was dangerous.
"Regardless," I said lightly, masking the tremor in my hands, "It's mine. So scram. I've got a train at six and work at seven. This wedding needs to wrap up quickly—I want pictures."
A sharp intake of breath from the attendant beside me.
"Lady, please—" Her voice barely above a whisper.
I pulled my robes tighter. Her eyes flicked to him.
A flick of his fingers released us.
She exhaled, relief stark on her face.
The realization hit like a punch.
I wasn't supposed to need permission. Not from him.
A chill slid down my spine, but I followed her deeper into the chamber. The air smelled of parchment and incense, the flickering torchlight casting strange shadows. Wooden trays displayed garments too exquisite to be costumes.
I traced my fingers over a bracelet, expecting it to crumble. It didn't.
"Lady, have you seen this?" The attendant gestured toward a gown spread across a cushion.
Dragon scales shimmered in the fabric, embroidered in gold. The matching headpiece loomed above it, heavy with authority.
I shuddered.
The ghostly faces I had glimpsed before swam in my mind. Something cold and ancient stirred at the edges of memory.
"I think I'll pass on the dragon look," I murmured.
Instead, my fingers hovered over another gown—reds and golds burning like fire. A phoenix stretched across the fabric, talons clamped around a dragon's throat.
"This one," I said.
The attendant hesitated.
"You are certain?"
"Absolutely."
Something flickered in her gaze—something softer, almost reverent.
She nodded, then turned, retrieving a set of scrolls. Aged. Regal. Each bearing a phoenix crest.
My pulse quickened. "What are those?"
She hesitated. "They are… yours."
The weight of them settled in my hands, smooth parchment tingling against my skin. The crest—unfamiliar, yet familiar.
The suitor chuckled behind me. "How fitting."
I turned. "You seem awfully invested in all this. What's in it for you?"
His gaze traced the scrolls, then the phoenix gown. Something flickered in his expression—calculating, satisfied.
"I believe in securing what is mine," he said simply.
"You don't even know me."
"Don't I?" He stepped closer, his presence pressing against mine. "You worship wealth because it does not betray you. You think money is safer than love." He tilted his head, amusement dancing in his gaze. "We are not so different, you and I."
My breath caught.
"Let me guess," I said, voice tight. "You think you're doing me a favor."
"I know I am." His smile sharpened. "You want power that doesn't abandon you? Wealth that doesn't fail you? Stand at my side."
The air between us crackled.
"If the wealth and power belongs to you, then is it truly mine?" I challenged.
Behind the silk screen, the room changed. Statues loomed in the corners, guardians frozen in marble.
And then I saw it.
A single hairpin.
Delicate. Elegant. A phoenix with long, sweeping tassels.
My breath hitched.
I reached for it, heart pounding.
I knew this hairpin.
It was mine.
It had always been mine.