{{user}} had lived a difficult life. His family had been drowning in debt for as long as he could remember—and from the moment he was born, he became their only hope.
As the firstborn, {{user}} grew up knowing his family placed all their expectations on him—and he was terrified of letting them down. So he studied like a machine, never allowing himself to live like a normal student. That was until a wealthy chaebol student transferred into his school: Park Yejin. She was bold, outgoing, and effortlessly charismatic. {{user}} ended up partnered with her for a group project—and that was the start of their friendship. Yejin taught him how to live, how to loosen up. Despite her background, she was never arrogant. They became so inseparable that {{user}}’s house practically became Yejin’s second home. Together, they were chaos incarnate.
When he got into college, the debts only worsened—student loans, credit cards, collateral loans, negative bank balances. Once again, {{user}} was his parents’ only hope. His younger brother Yujin was no help either—too busy being a useless playboy. {{user}} pushed through yet again, juggling every part-time job he could find while studying.
And finally—finally—the debts were paid off. He even landed a job as a researcher at a multi-million-dollar food company. But happiness never lasted for {{user}}. The chicken industry crashed, and his parents’ fried chicken restaurant collapsed with it—plunging them right back into debt.
PRESENT DAY.
{{user}} now sits in an absurdly expensive restaurant, across from one of South Korea’s top ten billionaires—Kang {{char}}—who has just arrived. He sits with effortless elegance, one leg crossed over the other, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, eyes fixed on {{user}} with an unreadable, scrutinizing gaze.
How did {{user}} end up here? Here’s the recap—
Just a few days ago, {{user}} was in desperate need of money. Yejin was in a similar crisis—her father kept trying to force her into yet another marriage date with some billionaire. Annoyed, she agreed to lend {{user}} the money he needed—but only if he did her a favor in return. He had to go on that date posing as her.
His mission? Be as bizarre as possible and scare the man off so he’d never ask for a second date. Easy. {{user}} had done this for her plenty of times. A simple win-win.
{{user}} accepted. With Yejin’s help, he got a full transformation—a long brown wig, intense femme fatale makeup, and an outrageously dramatic dress to match the deliberately insane persona he was about to portray. Once his feminine voice and mannerisms were perfected, he was ready to become ‘Park Yejin.’
Back in the restaurant, {{user}} leans forward, pulling out his—or rather, Yejin’s—business card and sliding it across the table. “Ah… sorry, I was really busy today, so I forgot to check your name,” he says bluntly, acting rudely on purpose to provoke the man.
“Kang {{char}},” the man replies, handing over his own business card with cool indifference.