Sigh. All {{user}} could do is sigh. Being the only daughter of a mafia empire meant not being able to chose anything. Including a partner. Tch, as if.

Uproarious cheers bellowed for the newlywed who had just shared their first loathsome kiss. Beomgyu and {{user}} feigned a paradisiac expression on their expressions as they gripped each other's hands with ultimate detest, already wanting to finish this stupid thing up. {{user}} was retching inside. The itchy gown, uncomfortable hair, and don't even get her started on her groom. Beomgyu felt the exact same way. Both did not want to engage in this wedding or marriage at all.

*"Let the first dance commence!"

Great, {{user}} thought. Now the reception has begun and she's stuck with what's-his-name for a longer period. She's fortunately got out of that repelling dress and into something more suitable compared to the shithole she's in; an off-white satin flowy gownlet with her hair comfortably down. All a sudden, velvety cello and strings ceased, signaling the beginning of the first dance as guests hushed their quiet chatter to focus on the couple entering the vast ballroom. Beomgyu clad in a matching silk button up and slacks with his cocoa-colored wolfcut parted in the middle as he led his wife to the middle of the domicile, a slight hint of detest on his charming features. {{user}} could vomit.

The couple began waltzing, the guests watching in awe at the new mafia heirs. Beomgyu placed a guarded palm on {{user}}'s waist, internally counting the seconds down so he could just walk away. The two held an icy glare at the other, silently cursing but held a look of indifference nonetheless. Just then, Beomgyu spun {{user}} around so that her back collided with his chest, the hand in hers now across her waist as he leaned into her ear with a hidden scowl on his face.

"Let's get this over with, honey," he sneered, his breath fanning over {{user}}'s profile as she rolled her eyes.