JH Group Headquarters, Seoul — 9:15 a.m.

Lee Hana stood in front of the glass elevator, her reflection staring back at her like a question she wasn’t sure she could answer.

The JH Group tower rose above her—cold, sleek, and intimidating. Every inch of the building screamed ambition and control. This wasn’t just a workplace. It was a battlefield.

“Just pretend you’ve done this a thousand times,” she whispered, adjusting the strap of her tote bag.

She stepped inside the elevator.

She was ten minutes late.

The doors slid open on the thirty-seventh floor—Executive Management.

The air felt heavier here. Quieter. Like even sound knew better than to linger.

“Miss Lee Hana?”

A woman in a fitted navy suit approached her, a headset clipped neatly to her ear.

“Yes,” Hana replied quickly. “I’m here to start work. Temporary secretary for—”

“CEO Kang Jae-Hyun,” the woman finished crisply. “Follow me.”

Hana’s stomach dropped.

Straight to the lion’s den.

She followed silently, heels echoing against the polished floor as they passed frosted glass walls and minimalist art pieces that probably cost more than her yearly rent.

The assistant knocked once and opened the door.

“Sir, your temporary secretary has arrived.”

“Let her in.”

Hana stepped forward.

Kang Jae-Hyun stood near the window, his back to her, hands tucked into his pockets. The city stretched endlessly beneath him.

“I remember you,” he said without turning.

Her heart skipped. “S-sir?”

“You spilled Americano on my shirt three days ago.”

She winced. “I’m really sorry. Again.”

He turned slowly.

Up close, he was even more intimidating—sharp jawline, dark eyes devoid of warmth, composure carved into every movement.

“You’re late,” he said calmly.

“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Silence stretched.

Then—“I’ll give you one week. Prove your worth.”

Relief flooded her. “Thank you, sir.”

“There’s an NDA on your desk,” he continued. “Sign it. Everything that happens on this floor stays here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And,” his gaze sharpened, “there will be no personal relationships with anyone here. Especially not me.”

Her cheeks burned. “Understood.”

He dismissed her with a nod.

Hana moved to the desk outside his office and opened the orientation folder—company rules, emergency procedures, legal clauses dense enough to scare off lawsuits.

She signed.

Her phone buzzed.

Kang Jae-Hyun:

Meeting with Yoon & Kim Legal moved to 2 p.m. Update schedule.

She glanced up. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t looked at her.

So he texts instead of speaking…

She got to work.

12:30 p.m. — Lunch Hour

Most of the floor emptied. Hana barely noticed.

“Don’t forget to eat.”

She looked up, startled.

“You’ve been working nonstop,” Jae-Hyun said, already grabbing his coat. “Don’t faint before five.”

He left.

She stared after him, then shook her head, smiling slightly.

She pulled out her modest lunch—simple, homemade.

“New girl?”

She turned to see a man in a gray suit, warm eyes and an easy smile.

“Seo-Jun. Marketing Director.”

“Lee Hana.”

He chuckled. “You’re brave. Not many last a week with the Ice King.”

“Ice King?”

“You’ll see.”

They laughed quietly.

Unseen behind closed blinds, Kang Jae-Hyun watched.

Then he closed them.

3:00 p.m.

“Bring the Kim Legal file. Now.”

She complied.

“Don’t talk to Seo-Jun too much,” Jae-Hyun said without looking up.

“Is that a rule?”

A faint smirk. “Should I add it?”

Her heart skipped.

Boardroom — 4:55 p.m.

When a senior executive tried to blame Hana, Jae-Hyun shut it down instantly.

“That mistake wasn’t hers.”

The room fell silent.

Hana didn’t breathe.

Afterward, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“I don’t tolerate incompetence,” he replied. “Especially not misplaced blame.”

6:30 p.m.

“Hana.”

Her name. From his lips.

“Tomorrow. 9 a.m. Sharp.”

They rode the elevator down in silence.

At the lobby, he said quietly, “Eat something real tonight.”

She watched him leave.

“…Why does that sound like a threat and concern at the same time?”

Lee Hana was still trying to process what had just happened.

He remembered the coffee incident.

And he didn’t fire me.

Her legs moved before her brain could catch up.

By the time she realized it, she was already sitting stiffly in the chair opposite Kang Jae-Hyun’s massive glass desk, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

Was this a joke?

A test?

Or was she about to be escorted out by security?

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,” Hana admitted nervously, her voice barely steady.

“Neither am I,” Jae-Hyun replied calmly as he stood. He shrugged out of his blazer, wincing slightly as he glanced at the dark coffee stain. “But you might as well make yourself useful.”

Before she could respond, he walked to a cabinet near the wall and pulled out a neatly folded shirt.

Then—without hesitation—he began unbuttoning the ruined one.

Hana’s eyes widened.

“Sir! Y-you’re changing!”

She turned her head so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

“Relax,” he said dryly. “I’ve had assistants faint in this office. You’re not the first person to see a man without a shirt.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” she snapped. “A warning would help!”

A low chuckle escaped him.

Hana froze.

That was the second time.

Rumor had it the Ice King never laughed. Never smiled. Never softened.

Yet here he was—amused.

Once he’d changed, Jae-Hyun returned to his seat and studied her openly, his gaze sharp but curious.

“You said you’re not the regular secretary,” he said.

“No, sir. Just filling in. My friend is sick.”

“And,” he added coolly, “you’re clearly desperate for money.”

Her face flushed instantly. “Is it that obvious?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he reached into a drawer and slid a slim folder across the desk toward her.

Hana stared at it.

“What’s this?”

“A contract.”

Her brows knitted together. “For… what?”

Jae-Hyun leaned forward, resting his elbows against the desk. His expression was calm, calculated—like a man negotiating a merger, not about to drop a bombshell.

“I need someone to pretend to be my fiancée for one month.”

The world stopped.

“…I’m sorry,” Hana said slowly. “What?”

“You heard me,” he replied evenly. “One month. You attend events, smile for cameras, and look at me like you’re madly in love.”

She blinked.

Hard.

“You’ll live with me,” he continued. “Wear designer clothes. Say as little as possible to the media.”

Her mouth fell open. “Why?”

“My grandfather,” Jae-Hyun said simply. “He’s threatening to remove me as heir unless I ‘settle down.’ He’ll be returning to Korea next month. I need a convincing relationship in place before then.”

Hana stared at him like he’d completely lost his mind.

“And you picked me?” she asked weakly. “The girl who spilled coffee on you?”

“You’re not intimidated by me,” he said. “That’s rare.”

She swallowed.

“And,” he added bluntly, “you need the money.”

Silence fell between them.

“I—” Hana hesitated. “How much?”

“Ten million won.”

Her breath hitched.

“Ten… million?”

“That’s just the advance,” he said. “There’s a bonus if you play your part well. Room and board included. Consider it professional acting.”

Her heart raced.

This was insane.

Completely insane.

Yet her gaze drifted back to the folder.

Her mother’s hospital bills.

Her brother’s school fees.

The landlord’s warnings.

The nights she went to bed pretending hunger was normal.

She clenched her fists.

“…Can I read the contract first?” she asked quietly.

Jae-Hyun leaned back, watching her with unreadable eyes.

“Of course,” he said. “This is a business deal. I don’t force partners.”

She slowly reached for the folder.

And with that single motion, Lee Hana stepped into a world she was never meant to touch.

“Are you serious about this?”

Lee Hana’s voice trembled as she flipped through the contract, eyes scanning the neatly typed clauses over and over as if they might change if she stared long enough.

“Like… seriously serious?”

Kang Jae-Hyun leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

“Do I look like someone who jokes?”

She looked up at him, then back down at the papers. “This is insane. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. And you want me to pretend to be your fiancée?”

“You’re understanding the situation perfectly.”

Her fingers paused at a highlighted paragraph.

“This clause about public displays of affection,” she said cautiously. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he replied calmly, “that in public you’ll hold my hand, smile, and behave like a woman in love. And if necessary—kiss me.”

“K-Kiss you?” Her voice jumped.

“It’s a relationship, Miss Lee. You’ve kissed someone before.”

“That’s not the point!” she snapped. “This feels like a drama plot.”

“And yet,” he said evenly, “here you are. No one is forcing you. You’re free to walk away.”

Her gaze drifted to the numbers at the bottom of the page.

₩10,000,000 upfront.

Additional payments per public appearance.

Performance bonus.

Her throat tightened.

She could pay her mother’s medical bills.

Secure Ji-Ho’s education.

Breathe for the first time in months.

“You said one month?” she asked quietly.

“Thirty days.”

“And after that?”

“We announce a mutual breakup. Clean. Quiet. You return to your life.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“Then I handle it,” he said, eyes sharpening. “But if you betray this agreement, there will be legal consequences.”

She closed the folder slowly.

“…Can I sleep on it?”

“You have until tomorrow morning. Eight a.m.”

Later That Night — Hana’s Apartment

Hana lay awake on her narrow mattress, staring at the ceiling.

Her mother coughed softly in the next room.

Ji-Ho mumbled in his sleep.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the contract, spreading it across her bed.

“Just thirty days,” she whispered.

Thirty days of pretending.

Thirty days of survival.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Next Morning — JH Group, 7:58 a.m.

Hana stepped into Jae-Hyun’s office, the signed contract clenched in her hand.

Without a word, she placed it on his desk.

“I’ll do it.”

He glanced up, unsurprised.

“A wise decision.”

“I have conditions.”

That caught his attention.

“One,” she said firmly, “no kissing unless absolutely necessary.”

“Define absolutely.”

“When cameras are in our faces.”

He smirked. “Accepted.”

“Two. I keep my part-time jobs.”

“I’ll adjust your schedule.”

“Three. Separate rooms.”

“You think I want to share a bed with a stranger?”

She huffed. “You’re the one paying me to act in love.”

“Fine. Separate rooms.”

She hesitated.

“And don’t fall in love with me.”

Silence.

Then—he laughed. Genuinely.

“I can promise you,” he said, “that won’t be a problem.”

“Why me?” she asked quietly.

“You’re invisible. No scandals. No ambition toward me.”

He stepped closer. “And you follow rules.”

“I’m not a puppet.”

“No,” he agreed softly. “But you’re reliable.”

She swallowed.

“And what do I get?”

“A new apartment. All expenses covered. And enough money to change your life.”

The room went still.

That Evening

Hana returned once more.

She placed the signed contract on his desk.

“I’m in.”

Jae-Hyun opened a drawer and removed a velvet box.

He opened it.

A diamond ring caught the light.

“We need it to look real,” he said calmly. “My grandmother notices everything.”

As he slid the ring onto her finger, Hana’s breath hitched.

Fake or not—

Something had just changed.