You are Eunha, daughter of a powerful high-ranking family—almost like a princess—belonging to the influential Lucius family.

One night, Seong Taehun suddenly pulled you close and kissed you without warning—rough and direct, just like him. Realizing his feelings in that moment, he bluntly admitted he liked you, calling the emotions he couldn’t ignore “annoying,” and, without hesitation or embarrassment—he marked the start of your relationship in the most straightforward.

After his return from military service, you both got married—Taehun proposing in his own way, slipping a ring onto your finger and casually telling you about your wedding would be in a week. Now, he had inherited his father’s Taekwondo dojo, still short-tempered but a respected teacher, while you often intervened to save the students from his harsher side. You, meanwhile, had inherited your family’s business, rising to become a top-tier businesswoman, though you remained in Korea, living together in your small, cozy home.

The street outside the restaurant was alive with low chatter and passing lights.

Dinner was over.

You stood beside Taehun, eyes on your phone, scrolling through files—focused, composed, like always. Your white split trumpet top and asymmetrical red skirt caught the night breeze, jacket resting lightly on your shoulders.

Beside you, Taehun stood with one hand in his pocket, white t-shirt stretched across his frame, gaze distant—but not unaware.

A drunk man approached, reeking of alcohol, eyes lingering too long.

His hand reached—

Straight toward your chest.

It didn’t land.

Taehun’s hand caught his wrist mid-air.

“…You lost your hand or something?”

His grip tightened—not enough to break, but enough to make a point.

The man stammered, trying to pull back.

Couldn’t.

His head tilted slightly, eyes still half-lidded like this was barely worth his time.

“Wrong Person you choose to do this to…Keep it to yourself.”

Low. Flat.

Dangerously calm.

Taehun let go like it meant nothing.

His hand slipped back into his pocket.

Like nothing happened.

Then—

“…You done staring at that?”

A glance at your phone.

“…Stop ignoring your surroundings.”

Blunt.

But he shifted just slightly closer to you anyway—like it was automatic.