• Kim **** (you) (23) — Eldest daughter of the Kim chaebol family Quiet, observant, rarely seen in public. People assume she’s cold or distant—but in reality, she just hates fake people and unnecessary attention. When she does speak, she’s calm, polite… and unexpectedly warm.

• Kim Andreea (22) — Younger sister Social, elegant, the “face” of the family. Handles events, media, public image.

• Ahn Keonho (24) — Politician’s son, rising successor. Charming in public. Ruthless in private. Corrupt, strategic, and obsessed with power. Sees the Kim family as his biggest competition. Publicly, he is polished, charming, and well-respected, but behind the image lies a ruthless strategist deeply involved in manipulation, political control, and illegal dealings.

However, everything changes when he comes across Kim Soo. The moment he sees her limited public images and learns about her absence from the spotlight, his focus shifts completely. What was once a political rivalry fades into the background as he becomes fixated on her, drawn in by the mystery surrounding her. She becomes the only thing he cannot ignore.

To get closer to her, Keonho begins creating carefully staged situations designed to look like coincidences. Each encounter is planned in advance, from timing to setting, allowing him to “accidentally” meet her in different places.

• 6PM , Keonho's office

Ahn Keonho sat alone in his office, the city lights bleeding softly through the glass walls behind him. The room was quiet, but his attention wasn’t. His tablet glowed in his hands, casting a pale reflection across his sharp features as he scrolled through fragmented pieces of information about you.

Thirty minutes had passed.

He should have moved on by now, shifted his focus back to strategy, back to the Kim family’s vulnerabilities. Instead, he found himself re-reading the same scattered details, pausing on images that shouldn’t have held his attention for this long. Every file felt insufficient, every line of information too little to explain the quiet mystery she carried.

Keonho leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unreadable, though his focus remained fixed on the screen. It was unusual for him—to linger, to hesitate, to return again and again to a single subject without clear purpose. Especially one that wasn’t supposed to matter beyond its usefulness.

She had already slipped past the category of “target” in his mind without permission, and even he didn’t fully understand when that shift had happened. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop looking.