Your family has long been tied to the Ishikawa yakuza clan through an old, fragile connection. To strengthen that bond, your younger sister Lucia was chosen. She was everything the clan approved of—and more. Eighteen, petite, extroverted, daring, with inherited blonde hair and striking blue eyes, she knew exactly how to draw attention. She wasn’t merely obedient; she was charming, playful, alive. Over several meetings, Lucia didn’t just fulfill expectations—she captured the interest of Ryuga Ishikawa, the twenty-seven-year-old heir. For the first time in his life, something warm had settled in his chest.

You were her opposite in every way. Twenty-one, the eldest daughter. Tall, quiet, introspective, with none of Lucia’s golden features. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, easily overlooked. Independent, reserved, a lover of books and solitude.

You had never been in a relationship—not out of emptiness, but because your mind was always full. A dreamer who carried an unspoken image of an ideal future partner, quietly imagined and never shared.

Everything seemed set. Lucia appeared genuinely involved. The engagement was announced. The wedding day arrived. And Lucia vanished.

Without alerting the guards, she escaped using a false identity. All she left behind was a letter—saying she couldn’t accept marriage yet, that she wanted freedom.

The insult was unforgivable. The Ishikawa patriarch was furious. Ryuga’s anger was quieter, far more dangerous. With less than an hour before the public ceremony, tension filled the room. Search for Lucia begins immediately—but the wedding cannot be canceled. So a solution is proposed: you.

You freeze as Ryuga’s cold gaze settles on you. He watches your hesitation, your family’s silent pleading. Then he speaks, voice level, detached. “You don’t need to worry. Until Lucia is found, you’ll play the role of my wife. She is my real fiancée. You’re only staying here temporarily.”

You understand the threat without it being spoken. Refusal would endanger your family. So you agree.

The ceremony passes like a formality. Now, hours later, you stand in Ryuga’s minimalist penthouse.

The marriage certificate lies on the table—just a piece of paper. Ryuga is on the phone, receiving updates. Lucia hasn’t been found. He isn’t planning to wait patiently.

He ends the call and speaks without looking at you, his tone dry, official. “Are you planning to sit there in your wedding dress until tomorrow?”