Engagement? Finalize?
The words bounced around my skull like pinballs, completely failing to latch onto any semblance of understanding.
Out of everything that had happened today—getting isekai'd, throwing water on the female lead, hysterically laughing in front of the CEO—this… Butler Kim's calm little announcement… was the thing that genuinely fried every last functioning brain cell.
'Isn't this...? Yes, it is...,' a tiny, hysterical voice in my head piped up. 'This is the initial conflict! The stupid marriage contract that kicks off the entire half-season nightmare!
The one I spent literal weeks ranting about in the comment section! I wrote a three-paragraph essay on how this single plot device was a lazy writer's crutch!'
And now… I was the crutch. I was the lazy plot device. The universe truly had a sick, twisted sense of humor.
A breathless, hysterical laugh crawled up my throat. It came out half-choked, half-deranged.
"Young Miss? Are you… alright?" Butler Kim asked gently, eyebrows knitting together with real concern as he watched my face do the cha-cha-slide through twelve different expressions.
You couldn't blame me. I was literally in an emotional washing machine on spin mode.
"I'm fine," I lied through my teeth, trying to sit straighter. "Just… thinking."
The lie sounded fragile, but Butler Kim—being the patient saint he was—didn't question it. He only nodded, folding his hands politely on his lap.
The car fell into a heavy, air-conditioned silence.
I swallowed. My throat felt tight. The pressure in my chest was building so fast I could practically hear my heartbeat.
I needed air.
Without thinking, I reached for the window button. The glass slid down smoothly, letting in a cool gust of wind that smelled like afternoon and city life all mixed together.
I leaned slightly into the breeze.
Fresh air… actual fresh air, not the stale, apartment-complex kind. It brushed against my cheeks, tugged at my hair, carried that faint Seoul smell of rain-mixed city life.
I leaned slightly toward the window, watching the afternoon to night blur with streaks of neon lights and reflections on wet asphalt.
My thoughts swirled trying to concentrate.
'Okay… okay… this timeline. This exact episode. After the water splash scene… the Laws call Austra home. They put the contract on the table…'
And then it hit me.
I was heading straight into the scene.
The dinner table.
The contract.
Chairman Law's cold voice.
Madam Law's fake smile.
Austra's fate being sealed like it was a business handshake.
And now it was going to be me sitting there.
Me being the obstacle.
Me being the forced fiancée who blocks the love line.
"No, no, no…" I whispered into the wind. "I can't let that happen. I can't become that villainess. I can't ruin their love story…"
But deep down? I already knew.
I mean, from what I've seen, even if the original Austra wasn't in her own twisted obsessed way in love with Eun Woo—they would've forced her anyway.
After all, the Laws won't let such an opportunity go to connect with a family as powerful as the Han.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the cold air, willing myself not to panic.
Then—
"Young Miss," Butler Kim said softly. "We've arrived."
My eyes snapped open.
And reality… hit me like a second truck.
The blurry city lights outside stopped moving and were replaced by something so massive, so blindingly expensive-looking that my jaw actually unhinged.
A fortress.
My jaw went slack.
The Law "mansion" wasn't a house.
It was a statement carved from white stone and sheer intimidation, a building that looked down its architectural nose at the rest of Seoul.
It was less of a home and more of a museum you'd need a ticket and a silent vow of reverence to enter.
Dozens of windows stared down at me like judgmental, well-dressed eyes.
Before I could even process the sheer scale of it, my door was opened from the outside by a man in a sharper suit than I'd ever owned in my previous life.
As I stepped down from the car, I took a better look at the Law mansion.
Except mansion is too small a word.
Banquet-sized windows.
Balconies that screamed, "Look at us, peasants."
The kind of architecture that makes you question your entire financial existence.
Even though I'd seen it a hundred times on-screen, seeing it up close made my soul leave my body for a second.
Seriously, Korean architecture must be something because they just drop these designs that seem from a fairy tale out of nowhere.
Where do these drama producers even FIND these sets?
Do they grow them??
Do rich people order them like takeout???
'How many lifetimes does one even need to build this?' I thought while approaching the main gate with Butler Kim behind me.
And that's when I saw them.
The servants.
They weren't just… around.
They were lined up.
A perfect, silent, human pathway from the car to the towering double doors of the manor.
Men and women in immaculate black-and-white uniforms, their heads bowed in synchronized respect as Butler Kim stepped forward.
A strangled squeak escaped me.
This didn't feel like a welcome home. This was more like a military inspection.
And I was the shabby, terrified recruit who'd forgotten all the drills.
Butler Kim stood near my door, his presence a calm anchor in my storm of panic. "Young Miss," he said, his voice low. "They are waiting."
They. The Madam and the Chairman. My… parents.
The thought was a bucket of ice water. This was really, truly happening.
Taking a shaky breath that did absolutely nothing to calm my racing heart, I forced one designer-clad foot out of the car, and then the other, stepping onto the driveway as if I were walking onto a live minefield.
Stepping into the house was like walking into a villain's lair designed by a minimalist billionaire.
The foyer was a cavern of cold, polished marble that stretched up to a ceiling so high it probably had its own weather system.
A single, terrifyingly modern chandelier that looked like a frozen explosion of black crystals hung ominously above.
There were no family photos, no cozy rugs—just a lot of sharp angles and art that looked like someone had thrown a can of paint at a wall and called it a masterpiece.
It was the kind of place where you were afraid to touch anything, breathe too hard, or exist too loudly.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I followed Butler Kim's silent, dignified form.
We glided up a sweeping staircase that felt more like a runway for a fashion show I was failing miserably.
He led me to a set of double doors on the top floor, which he opened with a quiet, practiced motion.
The room inside was what I could only describe as a "sitting room for scheming."
The walls were a dark, moody grey, and one was entirely glass, offering a terrifying view of the city lights far below.
Plush, uncomfortable-looking sofas were arranged around a low table made of a single slab of glowing rock.
And there they were. The final bosses.
A man was seated in a high-backed leather throne—I mean, chair—his face completely hidden by the financial section of a newspaper.
Beside him, lounging on a sofa like a panther, was a woman with the same wine-red hair as this body, sipping from a glass of wine that probably cost more than my old laptop.
Butler Kim's voice cut through the silence. "Chairman. Madam. The Young Miss is here."
It was like he'd flipped a switch.
The newspaper rustled and was folded with a sharp snap onto the table, revealing a man with sharp, calculating features and eyes that were a mirror of my new ones—a cool, unsettling green.
The woman, Madam Law, sprang up with a terrifyingly cheerful energy.
"OH, honey! You're here!" she trilled, her voice like shattering glass.
She floated over, grabbed my hand with a grip that was surprisingly strong, and maneuvered me onto the sofa beside her.
Chairman Law just stared, his gaze a silent, heavy weight. My mouth felt like it was full of sand. "Ho-How are you..?" I stammered, the words feeling alien and stupid.
"I'm sure you heard the news already, honey, but we've finally done it for you!" Madam Law gushed, completely ignoring my pathetic attempt at conversation.
"The Chairman of Han Group has agreed to our proposal and said he would take you in as a daughter-in-law!"
From seemingly out of nowhere, she produced a stack of papers thick enough to stop a bullet and slapped it onto the glass table with a definitive thwack.
My eyes widened at the forest of legalese.
"All you've to do is sign right here," she chirped, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at a single, starkly empty signature line at the bottom of the last page.
Dozens of other signatures—Chairman Han's, my parents' and lastly my beloved Han Eun Woo's—already mocked me from above it.
"And you'll have Eun Woo, like you wanted all those years ago!" she beamed, shoving a heavy, expensive pen into my limp hand.
Chairman Law watched from his throne, a silent, approving statue. "Come on, honey, come on," she urged, her voice a singsong push.
My fingers tightened around the pen on instinct. This was it. The moment the villainess signed her life away. My fangirl soul screamed in protest.
I stopped mid-reach, my hand freezing just above the paper. I resisted her gentle but insistent pull.
Madam Law's cheerful mask slipped for a nanosecond. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice losing its sugary tone.
I took a shaky breath. "Mad—I mean, Mom." The word felt like poison on my tongue. "Can I at least read the lines before signing?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Both of them stared at me with pure, unadulterated confusion.
The little impulsive Austra, reading over the clause of a contract?
Let alone one that would finally hand her the man she'd been obsessively chasing since puberty? It was literally the most out-of-character thing this body had ever done.
Madam Law recovered first, a brittle smile returning to her face. "S-Sure, honey. Read it over."
Her tone was dripping with condescension, clearly thinking her daughter wouldn't understand a single complicated term past 'Han Eun Woo.'
But one thing they didn't know was that this body was no longer home to the rich, boy-crazy heiress.
It was now occupied by me—an overworked former temp from a law firm who'd spent her days photocopying things like this and her nights obsessed with the very drama this contract was trying to force.
A strange calm settled over me. This was my battlefield. I might not know how to be rich, but I knew how to read.
I picked up the hefty contract, the paper crisp and important under my fingertips, and began to scan the contents.
My eyes, now trained by a thousand tedious documents, skipped over the fluff and went straight for the juicy, horrifying details.
ARTICLE III: BUSINESS INTEGRATION & ASSETS
My heart stuttered. This was so real.
1. Cross-Directorship: Upon the legal solemnization of the marriage, a designated representative of the Law family, to be mutually agreed upon, shall be granted a permanent seat on the Board of Directors of the Han Group's flagship subsidiary, Han Department Stores. In reciprocal agreement, Han Eun Woo shall be granted a seat on the Board of Directors of Law & Associates Law Firm.
So that was it. We weren't just a couple; we were a hostile takeover in a wedding dress. My family gets a finger in the Han Group pie, and the Hans get to keep an eye on my family's firm. We were literally human bargaining chips.
2. Shared Asset Development & Exclusive Partnership:All future land development and resort ventures undertaken by Han Group, both domestic and international, shall be structured under a new joint entity, "Han-Law Holdings," with a 71% controlling interest held by Han Group and a 29% interest held by Law Group Holdings. Furthermore, Law & Associates is hereby granted the exclusive, irrevocable right to handle all corporate legal affairs for the Han Group Conglomerate, its subsidiaries, and affiliates.
My eyes widened. They weren't just sharing a boardroom; they were literally tying their companies together.
My family gets a massive, guaranteed slice of every new hotel and resort, and their law firm gets the motherlode of all clients.
This contract was a financial superweapon.
My stomach churned. This was so much bigger than I'd ever imagined from watching the show.
The drama only ever focused on the romance!
It never mentioned the billions of dollars and corporate empires literally changing hands over this wedding.
I forced myself to keep reading, my heart pounding in my ears as I reached the part that truly sealed our fates.
ARTICLE V: DISSOLUTION & PENALTIES
1. Breach of Public Image Clause: A fundamental term of this agreement is the maintenance of a united, harmonious, and scandal-free public image of the Betrothed and subsequently, the Married Couple.
Any verified public action, statement, or scandal by either Han Eun Woo or Austra Law that results in significant reputational damage to either family brand, as determined by a joint committee, shall be considered a Material Breach.
The party responsible for the reputational damage shall be deemed the Breaching Party.
So it wasn't just me. Eun Woo was shackled by this too. One wrong move, one bad paparazzi photo, one public argument, and—boom—Material Breach. We were both prisoners of "perfection."
2. Penalties for Breach: In the event of a Material Breach by the Betrothed, the penalties outlined in Article V, Section 2(a) or 2(b) shall apply to their respective family. If Austra Law is the Breaching Party, Law Group Holdings shall forfeit...
I couldn't even finish reading the specific financial annihilation. It didn't matter. The core of it was this: Whoever breaks the perfect image is the one who destroys the contract and ruins their own family.
I lowered the papers, my hands trembling slightly.
This wasn't a marriage proposal; it was a corporate merger with an image clause.
And I was the liability. The original Austra, with her public tantrums and water-throwing, would have been a walking, talking breach of contract.
Madam Law was watching me, her smile tight. "See, honey? It's all very standard. Now, the pen?"
A crazy, desperate idea sparked in my mind. They wanted a perfect public image? Fine. I could use that.
I looked my "mother" dead in the eye.
"I'll sign it," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
Her face lit up in triumphant victory she knew all along before going down with what she heard next.
"On one condition."