Golden sunlight streamed through the open window of a grand mansion, home to one of the wealthiest families in Seoul. A gentle breeze swept in, making the yellow curtains flutter to its rhythm.
Under the golden rays of the sun sat the daughter of the Lee family, her beauty unmatched, ensnaring the hearts of any man who dared to look at her. As the only child of her father and her late mother, she always got whatever she desired.
She had the money and the looks—one might say she was close to perfection. Her name was rarely spoken, as uttering it was considered a disrespect to her father's legacy. Her mother had allegedly been assassinated when she was young, and ever since, her father had subjected her to the harshest training imaginable, ensuring she could protect herself.
Before her stood Seo Jihoon, a 27-year-old freelance painter who struggled daily just to put food on his table. His rent had long expired, and the only thing keeping both him and his belongings in that house was his friendship with the landlord—otherwise, she would have kicked him out ages ago.
With a brush in one hand and a palette in the other, he skillfully captured the beauty before him. Painting the daughter of the Lee family only fueled his passion for art, making it burn even brighter. His heartbeat fluctuated with every stroke—he couldn't afford to lose this golden opportunity.
TWO DAYS EARLIER
Seo Jihoon sat on his bed, painting the scenery outside his window—the moving cars, the walking people, and their elongated shadows darkened under the sun. Once he was done, he took a quick shower and headed to his part-time job, delivering bulky goods to wealthy customers.
He liked this job. Besides his regular pay, some rich clients occasionally gave generous tips after receiving their deliveries. Checking his old, broken wristwatch, he saw that it was already five p.m.—his shift was over.
Jihoon walked home, occasionally glancing at the luxury Lamborghinis that sped past him. He wondered why he had chosen to live in this part of Seoul, surrounded by millionaires and billionaires. Was it because he once believed he could be like them? Or was it because he thought opportunities here were endless?
It was neither.
A friend of his had arrived in this city with nothing and ended up marrying a rich heiress. With his sharp business acumen, he won over the girl's father and now ran the family company. Jihoon was looking for that kind of opportunity.
After his friend's financial breakthrough, others in their circle followed suit, seducing wealthy heiresses in hopes of securing a similar fate. Some failed, but most succeeded. Since they had studied business-related courses in school, managing the companies they married into wasn't an issue.
Seo Jihoon sighed. "I shouldn't have come here," he muttered to himself, staring at the evening sky.
He walked to the riverside to set up his painting equipment. The sunset was beautiful today—he just had to paint it. He moved his brush skillfully across the paper, making deep strokes here and there.
A bald man in a dark suit spotted him and approached. The man had the aura of a killer, and the moment Jihoon noticed him coming, he instinctively prepared himself.
"How good are you at painting?" the man asked, a peculiar question.
"Um, I'm quite good," Jihoon replied after realizing the man meant no harm. "I can paint literally anything. Do you want me to paint for you? I charge a lot, just so you know."
"How much do you charge for a rough sketch?" the bald man asked, revealing his phone.
"I charge $100–$150 for simple sketches and $400–$700 for coloured paintings. For complex art, I charge $1,000," Jihoon explained with a big smile.
He actually charged less, but judging by the man's phone and attire, Jihoon knew he wasn't dealing with an ordinary person. Adding a few extra bucks wouldn't hurt anyone. He was still smiling, thinking he had hit the jackpot, when he looked up and saw the man staring at him, mouth wide open.
"Sir... is something wrong?" Jihoon asked.
"I want a simple sketch of my daughter. How much should I pay you for that?"
Jihoon rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. "Pay me $120."
"For a simple sketch?" The man was stunned. "Fine, I'll pay you $120 if you can make it look exactly like her."
"Um, sir, a simple sketch can never look exactly like a real person. Sketches don't have life… colours bring paintings to life. If you want a painting that truly resembles your daughter, then I'll have to assume you want a detailed, coloured painting?"
"And how much is that?" the man asked with a frown. He knew Jihoon was ripping him off, but there was nothing he could do—he needed a painter urgently.
"I'm painting a girl, so I'll have to charge you $50. And remember, I charge $400–$700 for coloured paintings, but since you want a detailed coloured painting, that'll be $700 plus $50. That makes it $750. I should be home by now eating, but you've stopped me from doing that. So I'll charge you a $100 inconvenience fee. That brings the total to $850!"
The man's left eye twitched repeatedly after Jihoon finished talking. He was about to unleash a string of curses, but his phone rang at that moment. Seeing the caller ID, his eyes widened, and he immediately picked up.
"Hello, Miss," he answered, his voice quivering.
"Have you found him?" a female voice asked from the other end.
"I'm just coming from the NIS. Miss, Hye-in said she can't identify the man from the surveillance footage alone. The assassin's face wasn't clear enough," the bald man replied.
"What about his build?" the voice asked again, this time sounding more demanding.
"There are hundreds of people with that same build, Miss," the bald man responded.
"That's great! Did you collect the list of potential suspects?"
"No, Miss..." The man started sweating profusely.
"Do you want to die?" the voice asked, laced with foreboding.
"Miss, I deserve to die!" The man fell to his knees, apologizing. "I'm really sorry, Miss!"
"Forget it. Just get back here—Father wants to speak with you."
"Miss, there's something I need..." The bald man paused for a second.
"What?"
"Nothing, Miss. I'll be there in five minutes!"
A highly skilled assassin had invaded his master's house yesterday and attempted to kill him. Although the attempt failed, the assassin managed to injure his master. However, one of the bodyguards that night had seen the assassin's face. The reason he approached Jihoon was to have him paint the assassin's likeness based on the bodyguard's description. But now, he wasn't sure if Jihoon could even do it.
Even if he couldn't, it didn't matter—there were plenty of other artists he could find. The man dipped his phone back into his pocket with shivering hands, then turned to leave.
Jihoon grabbed the man's arm. "Aren't you painting anymore?"
"I am," the man answered. "But I need to be sure you can really paint. Let's meet here tomorrow."
"Sure!" Jihoon agreed with alacrity. As long as his money wasn't gone forever, it was fine.
"4 p.m." The man brushed off Jihoon's palm, then scurried away.
Watching the man scurry away, Jihoon frowned. He thought he had hit the jackpot tonight, but that wasn't the case. Also, the sun had already set, and he hadn't even completed his painting. Jihoon sighed but then beamed with happiness when he realized he didn't need the sun to finish—everything he needed was in his memory.
He closed his eyes and pictured the sun just setting, exactly as it had been earlier. The passing birds, the night clouds—he painted them exactly as he had seen them. When he opened his eyes, he grinned; the painting was complete.
"This could go for twenty dollars," he said, gently putting his equipment back into his bag. The painting hadn't dried yet, so he had to carry it along with the board as he walked home.
As he walked along the sidewalk, he was reminded of the promise he had made to his mother.
"I'm going to marry a beautiful heiress, just like San did!"
That was four years ago. How stupid he had been to make such a promise. As he laughed at himself, he bumped into someone. The man wore a black hood over his head and a nose mask. In his right hand was a small knife—stained with blood.
A normal person wouldn't have noticed the knife in the darkness, but Jihoon, being an artist, had good vision. The moment he spotted the bloodied blade, he threw away his twenty-dollar painting and bolted.
The man hadn't expected Jihoon to suddenly run and was momentarily stunned. But as soon as he regained his senses, he bolted after him. Jihoon didn't even stop to look back—he just kept running. If there was one thing he feared more than being broke, it was death.
"Why are you following me, you bastard?!" Jihoon screamed.
"Listen, I'm sorry for painting your sister, if that's what I did!"
"I'm sorry for overcharging you! I'll give you a refund, I promise!"
"Please! I'm still a virgin, and I'm almost thirty!"
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