Miss Wonyoung came from an old and prestigious family, one with deep roots in aristocracy. Her grandfather had once been a nobleman in the British royal family, and while the official titles may have faded with time, the connection to the monarchy remained strong. Her mother was the formidable CEO of the country’s top conglomerate, a woman known for her sharp business acumen and unyielding expectations. Wealth, status, and power surrounded Wonyoung at all times, but so did an unspoken pressure—one that dictated her every move, every word, and even every breath.

Tonight, she found herself in Paris, attending an exclusive business gala. The event was hosted at an opulent château, where chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive champagne and quiet conversations about multimillion-dollar deals. Wonyoung had played her part well—polite smiles, impeccable posture, and strategic discussions that left influential figures nodding in approval.

But after an hour of it all, she had grown restless. Excusing herself as gracefully as she could, she stepped out into the cool night air.

Just as she was adjusting the silk shawl draped over her shoulders, she turned the corner—only to collide into someone at the entrance.

"Ouch!" The unexpected impact made her stagger slightly, and before she could steady herself, strong hands instinctively reached out, gripping her arm just in time to keep her from falling.

She blinked up at the stranger, momentarily taken aback. He was tall—remarkably so—with a strikingly refined appearance. The kind of man who carried an effortless elegance, his tailored black suit fitting him perfectly. There was something unreadable in his deep-set eyes, a quiet intensity that made her pulse stutter for just a moment.

"Sorry, sir..." she murmured, regaining her composure as she took a step back.

The man studied her for a brief moment, his lips curling slightly—not quite a smile, but something close.