# Chapter 23: The Velvet Cage
The annual Baekhyun Charity Gala was nothing short of a velvet cage, lit by two-ton crystal chandeliers that reflected off the polished marble of the Grand Seoul Hall. Cameras flashed in a blinding rhythm along the velvet ropes, capturing the impeccable smiles of conglomerate heirs, politicians, and high-status families.
And in the center of it all, Song Hae-won stood wearing a borrowed white linen dress, her simple canvas shoes a jarring, quiet stain against the sea of silk and custom tuxedos.
"Oh, look. The noodle shop has opened a stall at the Grand Seoul," a sharp, musical voice chirped from behind her.
Hae-won did not flinch. She slowly turned, holding her glass of tap water. Shin Chae-young stood there, framed by two of her loyal high-society sycophants. Chae-young's dress was a masterwork of lilac silk, but her eyes were pure, concentrated venom as they swept down Hae-won's cheap attire.
"You really don't belong here, Hae-won," Chae-young whispered, leaning in so the nearest reporters couldn't catch her tone. "A merit list is just a PR band-aid. It doesn't make you one of us."
With a languid, practiced wave of her wrist, Chae-young tilted her hand. The golden champagne from her glass sloshed over, dripping directly onto Hae-won's canvas shoes, soaking the cheap fabric into a damp, dark stain.
Chae-young gasped, a fake, theatrical hand flying to her mouth. "Oh dear! My hand slipped. I suppose you're used to cleaning up spills on linoleum, though, aren't you?"
The sycophants giggled, and a couple of cameras drifted toward them, detecting the scent of a public execution.
Hae-won looked down at her damp shoe. She didn't look humiliated. She didn't cry. Instead, she took her glass of tap water, looked Chae-young dead in the eyes, and dumped the entire glass directly over Chae-young's expensive suede heels.
"My hand slipped too," Hae-won said, her voice exceptionally quiet, steady, and loud enough for the adjacent conglomerate representatives to hear. "But water washes out. Unlike bad breeding."
Chae-young's face went from smug victory to a bloodless, twisted mask of pure shock as several cameras caught the damp spots on her designer heels. Before the princess could scream, a tall, imposing shadow fell over them.
Min Jun-seo stepped into the light. His dark eyes didn't even look at Chae-young. They were fixed entirely on Hae-won's wet canvas shoe, his jaw clenching with a cold, terrifying intensity.