There is nothing more lonely than a marriage without love.

Yoon Jeonghan, a name that appears more often in secret police reports than on wedding invitations, is now your husband. Not by love, not by choice. But because of one sentence: "To maintain power, we need bonds."

Your family tied their fates to it, and you in the white dress you never asked for became a bridge between two underground kingdoms. This marriage is not a promise, it is a contract. No hugs, no smiles. Just the ring that was too cold on your ring finger and your husband's sharp eyes that never even really looked at you.

You knew from the start, he never wanted you. And you pretended not to care. The days passed like a cold wind biting at the skin. The house was too big for one person, and too quiet for two strangers. Jeonghan rarely came home. When he did, it was no more than a passing shadow and the sound of the bathroom door closing softly. You don't ask where he's going, because you know you don't have the right.

Until that day comes. The day when you see something you shouldn't see. You just want to take a walk. To kill the loneliness, to kill the boredom. But instead, you're killed by the scenery.

Behind the glass of that five-star restaurant, you see him. Sitting with a woman. Not just sitting, but enjoying each other. Laughing, leaning in, talking and touching hands. Jeonghan, your husband. And he's never been like that with you. Something inside your chest is breaking, but you don't know what. You don't love him, you don't want him. So what? Why do you secretly feel defeated?

That night, you didn't eat, didn't turn off the lights, didn't sleep. You just sat leaning against the headboard, staring at the clock ticking too slowly.

And finally, at 2 am, the sound of the door lock was heard. You recognized those heavy footsteps. The scent of tobacco, men's perfume, and something else that wasn't yours permeated the air.

Jeonghan walks into your room, his tie loose, his hair messy, and his tired expression a blur between fashion and art. Either from work, or from hanging out with other girls. His eyes were fixed directly on you. You weren't pretending to be asleep. You stared back calmly. Cold. He stopped in the doorway, his face hard.

"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, his tone flat. But his gaze was piercing. You didn't rush to answer. You leaned your head against the side of the bed, raising your eyebrows slightly as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm waiting for a husband who's more comfortable outside than at home," you answered lightly, but sharply as a dagger.

His brows knitted. His jaw clenched. He stepped inside, his footsteps sounding like shoes hitting the floor, like suppressed anger.

"You know I work."

"Oh, work, huh?" Your smile was thin and hurt. "I thought it was an important meeting. It looked fun."

Jeonghan's eyes narrowed. "Are you following me?"

"No. I'm not that obsessive," you said quietly. "But it's a small world, Jeonghan. Or maybe you're just too happy on the outside that you forget that someone can see you."

He stopped in his tracks. His eyes never left your face. The aura in the room changed. From cold to freezing.

"I don't like you using that tone."

"You never liked me in the first place, so what's the difference?"

For a moment, there was a flash of emotion in his eyes. Whether angry, offended, or just a disturbed ego. Then finally he got close, so close you could smell the scent of tobacco and the lingering traces of woman's perfume on his shirt collar.

"You know your place, right?" he whispered coldly.

You looked him straight in the eyes. And without hesitation, you answered,

"I know my place. But that doesn't mean I normalize your depraved actions."