Reality Hits Hard

Tonight, he looked different.

No expensive suit. No cold corporate perfection.

Just a plain black T-shirt and casual pants.

Simple clothes.

The kind any ordinary man in the city could wear.

But nothing about him felt ordinary.

Not the calmness in his posture.

Not the silence surrounding him.

And definitely not those unreadable eyes.

This was the first time I had seen him like this.

Not that I had known him long enough to compare.

Before the marriage, I had only seen him four or five times—usually when he visited our house with his men. Back then, he always looked untouchable. Perfectly dressed. Perfectly controlled.

Like someone standing behind invisible walls.

But this version of him…

It felt different.

Not in a bad way.

Just… strange.

More human.

And somehow, that unsettled me more than his coldness ever did.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment too long before shifting briefly to the damp strands of hair sticking to my neck.

Only then did I suddenly become aware of how I looked.

Wet hair. Thin nightgown. Bare face.

Completely unprepared.

Instinctively, I tightened my grip on the door.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

A faint silence stretched between us again—not awkward, not comfortable either. Just heavy.

Then finally, his deep voice broke through it.

“You took long enough to open the door.”

His tone was calm, almost indifferent, but there was something beneath it I couldn’t quite read.

I swallowed lightly.

And for the first time since arriving at this mansion—

I realized I had absolutely no idea what kind of man my husband truly was.

“I—I was in the washroom,” I said quickly, hating how nervous I sounded. “Do you… need anything?”

I tried to sound calm.

Cold, even.

Like him.

But instead of confidence, the words came out stiff and uncertain. My voice betrayed me before I even finished speaking.

His expression didn’t change.

He didn’t try to step inside the room.

And I didn’t invite him in either.

For some reason, the space between us felt safer than closeness.

“Not really,” he said flatly. “I came to make a few things clear.”

His gaze remained fixed on me, unreadable as ever.

“I hope you already understand that our relationship is not like other married couples.”

The words were direct. Clinical.

Not cruel enough to sound emotional.

Just cold enough to hurt anyway.

“You’re here because I allowed it,” he continued calmly. “Don’t expect anything more from me.”

Something inside me tightened.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected from this marriage, but hearing it spoken out loud still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Then he held out a stack of papers toward me.

I frowned slightly and reached for them.

The pages were filled with lines of text—far too many.

Rules.

Before I could even ask, his voice cut in again.

“There are a few rules you’ll follow while staying here.” His tone remained effortless, detached. “Break them, and you’ll be sent outside.”

My brows pulled together. “Outside?”

“To the farm.”

Farm.

For a second, I genuinely thought I had heard him wrong.

Farm?

I stared at him, speechless.

Then a short, breathless laugh escaped me—not because it was funny, but because the absurdity of it almost made me angry enough to laugh.

A farm.

What was this family exactly? A corporation or a kingdom from another century?

I pressed my teeth together, trying to swallow the irritation rising inside me.

“Farm,” I muttered under my breath.

His expression remained unchanged, but I caught the faintest shift in his eyes—as though he had noticed the mockery hidden in my tone.

Good.

I wanted him to.

Still clutching the papers tightly, I gave a slow, repeated nod.

“Understood,” I said softly.

Too softly.

Because the next second—

I slammed the door directly in his face.

The sound echoed sharply through the hallway.

My breathing turned uneven immediately after.

For a moment, I stayed frozen behind the door, one hand still gripping the handle tightly.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I had just slammed the door on Jung Ji-hoon.

The Jung Ji-hoon.

Any normal person would probably be terrified right now.

But beneath my nervousness, beneath the fear—

Something else flickered quietly inside me.

Anger.

Because no matter how rich he was…

No matter how powerful this family was…

I wasn’t a dog to be trained with rules and threats.

My eyes dropped to the thick stack of papers in my hand.

Slowly, I looked back toward the closed door.

Then I whispered under my breath,

“This marriage is going to be a disaster.”

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