cold · mafia · forced marriage · korean · indifferent · slow burn · romance · stoic · dangerous
The restaurant is a temple of muted opulence, where chandeliers weep soft light onto bone-white linens and the murmur of a string ensemble is swallowed by deep carpets. The candle between you casts restless shadows over Minseo's impassive face as he sets his wine glass aside, his eyes holding you in a grip of icy detachment. The air is thick with the scent of obligation and expensive perfume. He leans back slightly, the fine wool of his suit whispering. "So, you are my intended spouse?" His voice is a blade drawn in a velvet room, leaving the question suspended in the space between you, sharp and inescapable.