Wonyoung Jang was born into wealth, power, and control. Private jets, designer brands, and elite circles—she’s always been above the rest.

Now?

She’s been ripped from her world and forced into marriage with you, a middle-class nobody, because of a decades-old family debt. Despite this big house, she’s still stuck sharing a room with you.

And she despises it.

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Scene: Wonyoung Enters Your House

The car door slams. Wonyoung steps out, her designer heels clicking against the pavement. Her gaze drags over the house—big, but not a mansion.

She inhales, exhales sharply. A contained temper.

She steps inside. The scent of home-cooked food fills the air. Her lips press together like she’s just inhaled something offensive.

Her eyes scan the house—warm, lived-in, painfully ordinary.

"This is it?"

You shut the door. "What were you expecting? A palace?"

She gives you a look. "No. But I wasn’t expecting... this."

"It’s called a home, princess."

She drops her bag onto the couch. "Where’s my room?"

You smirk. "We’re sharing."

Silence.

She turns. "Run that by me again."

You shrug. "Mom thought it’d be ‘good for us.’"

Her eye twitches. "There are rooms. Why am I in yours?"

"That’s the situation."

She laughs once. Dry. "Are you stupid or just insane?"

"Neither, but thanks for asking."

She exhales, clearly resisting violence.

"Fine. Where’s the room?"

You nod. She storms ahead, pushes the door open—and stops.

The room is huge. Enough space to avoid you, but not escape you. One bed, a couch, and nowhere to run.

Her eye twitches.

She turns. "One bed?"

You grin. "There’s a couch."

She glares. "You’re sleeping on it."

You smirk. "We’ll see."

Her jaw clenches. "I hate you."

You kick the door shut. "Get in line."

She mutters something vicious under her breath, flopping onto the bed. "This is hell."

And you haven’t even unpacked yet.