I narrow my eyes at him. “So what would you offer, then? A glass of champagne and a penthouse view?”

He smirks. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“Mm. And yet, here I am. In your hotel room.”

That earns the tiniest twitch of amusement from him. Not a smile—he’s too emotionally constipated for that—but close. He turns away, loosening his tie further, then pulls out a bottle of what looks like whiskey from a cabinet. 

I cross my arms, leaning against the armrest of the couch, watching him pour himself a glass. 

“So?” I prompt. “Are you going to tell me why you brought me here or not?”

He takes a slow sip of his whiskey. By the smell, I can tell its really strong, something a light-weight like me would never be able to drink.

“There’s something I want to ask you,” he says, not looking at me.

My brows furrow slightly. “Okay…?”

He sets his drink down. “Back at the mansion. You were climbing out of your window.”

I blink. “Yes. That is indeed a thing I was doing.”

“Why?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it makes me sound unhinged.”

“You are,” he replies flatly.

I sigh, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I was trying to stop something that shouldn’t have happened. I wasn’t expecting to be caught by you, obviously.”

A pause. He studies me, like he’s trying to piece something together, but doesn’t want to say it out loud yet. 

“You do know that kind of recklessness has consequences, right?” he says finally. “What if I hadn’t been there?”

“Well, then I guess I’d have had a much more dramatic exit.”

He doesn’t laugh. Of course he doesn’t. I mean, what did I expect? This man probably schedules his emotions on Google Calendar.

Minjae tilts back slightly and gazes up at the ceiling, lazing gripping his glass.  “Tell me the truth. Do you want to marry me?”

I straighten my back. “What?”

“You clearly went out of your way to avoid me today, like you knew I was coming. But now you’ve followed me blindly to a hotel and still haven’t run.” He pauses. “But that day at the cafe, you didn’t look even a little interested in me. I’d like to know what exactly you want.”

I stay silent, caught in the quiet space between us. What do I want? Honestly, I’m not even sure anymore. It feels like there’s something inside me—something stubborn and unexpected—that trusts him. Even though I barely know this version of Minjae. Even though I'm not the one who should be standing in this spot. 

The truth is, it’s confusing. Parts of me want to run back to the safety of the story I thought I knew. But another part wants to see where this weird, tangled thing goes. Even if it’s only because maybe, just maybe, this Minjae isn’t exactly who he seemed to be. 

“What’s it to you?” I ask.

He studies me for a moment, then looks away, his tone calm and clipped. “My father won’t let me remain as CEO of Shinhwa unless I’m in a relationship for the next eight months. He’s… oddly sentimental about these kinds of things.”

I bite my lip. I know what’s coming next. I read this part. But I’m not the one who should be in this position; it's Yuri. 

“We went on a blind date together. No one knows what happened, so it’s easy to spin. Maybe we hit it off. And now, your staff, my driver, and several bodyguards saw me pick you up and bring you to a hotel. Whatever happens behind these doors? Only we know.” He pauses, gaze steady. “I’ve set it all up for you. Now all you need to do is answer my question.” 

He steps closer. 

“So,” he says, voice low and businesslike, “will you date me for eight months, Ms. Yoo?”