I didn't cry when I lost my job.
I didn't cry when my landlord taped an eviction notice to my door and added, "You've got three days, sweetheart," like he was doing me a favor.
But I nearly cried when my card declined while trying to buy two packs of instant noodles.
"Maybe try again?" the cashier asked, eyes flat and unbothered.
I tried. Twice.
Still declined.
I gave her a stiff smile, muttered an apology, and left with empty hands and an even emptier soul.
---
When I got back to my rooftop apartment — the one with the faulty light switch and a toilet that cried at night — I flipped the switch out of habit.
Nothing.
Electricity gone.
Perfect.
I sat down in the dark with my phone flashlight barely hanging on at 8% and let the silence crawl over me like a second skin.
Then my phone buzzed.
> UNKNOWN NUMBER:
"Miss Yoon Se-ra. I'd like to make you an offer."
Spam. Obviously.
I rolled my eyes and typed back:
> "Try Jesus, I'm already broke."
Another message came seconds later:
> "Marry me. 7 days. 500 million won. No questions asked."
I actually laughed. Out loud.
Sure, why not? Maybe I'd win the lottery next or grow wings and fly.
> "Who is this?" I typed, just for the hell of it.
> "Han Jae-yul."
I stopped breathing for a second.
No. It couldn't be.
Han Jae-yul — heir to Virex Group, cold-blooded billionaire, ice king of Korea. He rarely appeared in public. Rumor had it he didn't even shake hands unless legally required.
My heart thumped.
Then it thumped harder when my phone pinged again.
> Deposit Alert: ₩10,000,000 KRW received.
My mouth fell open.
Ten million. Ten. Freaking. Million. Just for replying?
I froze, staring at my screen like it had grown fangs.
Then came the knock.
No way...
I crept to the door and peeked through the peephole. A tall man in a perfectly tailored black suit stood outside, holding a silver envelope like it was a weapon.
"Miss Yoon Se-ra?" he said as soon as I opened the door a crack.
"Who's asking?"
He gave me a slight bow. "Lee Dong-hwan. I work directly for Mr. Han. He requests your presence. Now."
I blinked. "Wait, this isn't a prank?"
Without a word, he held out the envelope.
I took it with shaky hands and opened it on the spot. Inside was a thick set of pristine legal documents.
---
MARRIAGE AGREEMENT CONTRACT
Client: Han Jae-yul
Bride: Yoon Se-ra
Duration: 7 days
Payment: ₩500,000,000
Terms:
1. Complete confidentiality.
2. No physical or emotional expectations.
3. Zero contact after the contract ends.
4. No interference with personal affairs.
5. Immediate annulment after 7 days.
---
My fingers tightened around the paper.
This was real. Insane, but real.
I looked up at him. "How did you get my number?"
"Mr. Han has resources," he said calmly. "He reviewed hundreds of profiles. You matched the criteria."
"What criteria?"
"That will be explained once you meet him."
I crossed my arms. "You don't think it's creepy that some billionaire stalked my life and now wants to marry me like it's a business deal?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Creepy pays well."
Touché.
He handed me a clean black folder and a pen. "You'll have the chance to review the full terms. But your decision must be made by midnight."
"What happens if I say no?"
"You won't be contacted again."
"And if I say yes?"
"A car is downstairs."
---
Half an hour later, I was walking into the Grand Jeon Hotel — the kind of place you don't even dream about unless you have stocks in oil.
The lobby sparkled. The chandeliers looked like they were made of diamonds. The air smelled expensive — like old money and secrets.
"Top floor," the receptionist said, eyeing me like I'd crawled in from a sewer.
The elevator ride felt eternal.
Just as the doors opened, I stepped out—and slammed straight into someone.
Or rather, someone's chest.
Hard. Warm. Expensive-smelling.
Two strong hands caught my arms before I could fall backward.
"You really don't watch where you're going, do you?"
The voice was deep. Unbothered. Ice cold.
I looked up.
Tall. Black suit. Unreadable expression. Jawline that could slice steel.
Han Jae-yul.
Holy. Shit.
"You—" I started, flustered.
"I asked you to come, not to crash into me."
I scowled. "Well maybe warn people before standing still like a traffic cone in a luxury hotel."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "You're already better than the last one."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer. He turned and walked down the hallway like I hadn't just insulted him.
"Conference room. Ten minutes."
Then he vanished behind gold-plated doors.
---
I stood there, heart pounding, hands still holding the ridiculous contract.
This was real.
The devil wasn't in hell. He was wearing tailored suits and offering seven-day marriages like flash sales.
And the craziest part?
I was actually considering saying yes.