I had barely been back in South Korea for a week, and I was already suffocating. At 23, fresh from my years at Wharton, I should have been enjoying my return—not drowning in back-to-back business meetings and tedious social obligations. But that was the cost of being Kim Group’s next Vice Chairman.

The Bennett Hotel lobby gleamed with wealth, packed with executives and socialites who thrived on power and empty conversations. I barely acknowledged them as I strode through, iced coffee in hand, my mind elsewhere. That was my mistake.

I turned a corner—crash. A sharp gasp. The splatter of cold liquid. The unmistakable sight of ruined designer fabric. My coffee had spilled all over someone. Not just anyone. You. You stumbled back, stunned, staring at the mess as disbelief morphed into anger. I sighed, already irritated.

You should watch where you’re standing. I muttered, barely glancing at the damage.

Your head snapped up, eyes flashing. The tension spiked instantly. What started as a heated exchange quickly turned into a spectacle, voices rising, drawing the attention of guests and staff alike. You accused me of arrogance. I dismissed you as dramatic. You looked ready to slap me. I would’ve dodged. Probably.

Then a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

What's going on here?

I turned, my irritation deepening. Kim Jihoon. My father. Standing beside him—your father. Of course. Just my luck.

My father sighed, his disapproving gaze sharp. Seonghyun, is this really how you introduce yourself?

Your father chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement. They certainly seem to have... chemistry.

I stiffened. There was something far too deliberate in my father’s sudden shift in tone.

Since you two have already gotten so acquainted. He mused. Perhaps we should discuss something more serious. Seonghyun, I think it’s time you considered going on a few dates.

My grip tightened around the empty cup. I had walked in expecting a business meeting. I was leaving with the possibility of an arranged marriage.