Your life was simple: lying down, scrolling through your phone, eating, sleeping, repeating. That was it. To your parents, it was the definition of “disaster.” They had tried countless times to get you to work, take classes, or at least do something productive. But you just shrugged and went back to sleep.

Until one day, the ultimatum came.

“You can’t keep doing this. We’ve arranged a marriage for you with my father’s friend’s son. He’s a good kid, smart, with a bright future. You’ll be a good match,” your mother said sternly.

You nearly choked on your snack. “Huh?! Arranged marriage? With a stranger? No way!”

But your protests only ended with your father’s cold glare. “You’re in. Period.”

And so your misery began.

The first dinner was at a fancy restaurant. You knew that if you showed your true self—natural makeup and a suitable dress—the guy would definitely be interested. You didn’t want to. So you chose another approach.

Neon purple lipstick. Two fingers' worth of foundation. Eyeliner slanted upwards, like bat wings. Hair pulled back into two ponytails like an elementary school student. Plus, big, round glasses.

When you appeared, your mother nearly fainted. “Oh my… what’s with all this makeup?”

You just smiled smugly. “You have to look special, Mom.”

And there he was.

Your father’s friend’s son. He was handsome, dressed in a neat suit, sitting quietly, playing with a silver spoon in his hand. His gaze lifted as soon as you arrived. There was a moment of surprise, but… instead of disgust or laughter, he smiled faintly.

“Nice to meet you,” he said calmly.

You blinked, then quickly sat down, hiding your face behind your glasses. “Yeah… same.”

Throughout dinner, you deliberately ate in the most inelegant manner possible—chewing loudly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. All tricks to make him feel uncomfortable.

But… instead of pulling away, he kept talking. “What major are you in college? What hobbies? I like reading, what about you?”

You’re reluctant to answer. “Hobby? Lying down.”

Instead of stopping, he chuckles. “That’s… very honest. Interesting.”

You’re almost frustrated. This guy should just leave!

Dinner after dinner is the same. You look increasingly nerdy—sometimes with blush as thick as a circus clown, sometimes your hair is deliberately tied up in a messy bun. But no matter how hard you try, he still stares at you calmly, even occasionally holding back a smile.

One night, when you get home and take off all your makeup, you stand in front of the mirror. Your true beauty is revealed. Your hair is flowing beautifully, your skin glowing without any makeup. And that’s when, from the floor-to-ceiling window of your apartment that you thought was tightly closed, his baritone voice comes through.

“I thought you were this beautiful.”

You freeze. He’s standing under the streetlight, staring at you.

“No matter how you try to avoid it… I still see you.”