How far do we go for the people we love?
We all have a different limit, don't we?
When it came to the original Austra Law, I don't think there was ever a logical "line" there, to how much she loved CEO Han.
She was the type of character who, if the devil himself slid a soul-selling contract across the table, would put her name on it so fast the devil would ask for a time-out.
And I wasn't the only one who knew that.
Her parents, Chairman and Madam Law, knew that fact better than anyone. It was the one predictable thing about their otherwise chaotic daughter.
So, when the golden opportunity to finally marry her off to CEO Han Eun Woo was presented on a silver platter, and they heard me—inhabiting her body—utter the one line she never would have…
It must have been an absolute shock.
"A condition?" Madam Law asked, her voice laced with pure, unadulterated confusion.
I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to stay level. "Yes, M-Mother. I have a condition I would like to be fulfilled before I sign."
My parents exchanged a look that was a perfect cocktail of confusion and suspicion. 'I get it,' I thought, 'this is the most out-of-character sentence I could have possibly uttered. But if I'm going to be thrown to the wolves, I'm at least going to demand a weapon.'
Madam Law continued, gesturing with a graceful, dismissive hand. "What is it, dear?"
I tapped the dense paragraph in Article III. "It says here that a designated representative of the Law family will be granted a seat on the board of Han Department Stores."
I took a sharp breath, locking eyes with her. "I want to be that representative. And I want that right to be granted upon the signing of this contract, not upon the marriage."
The silence that followed was so profound I could hear the ice shifting in Chairman Law's untouched drink.
This was the second crazy thing they'd heard from me in five minutes, and the Laws were visibly reeling.
They stared as if they weren't sure they were talking to their daughter anymore.
Never in their lives would they believe their spoiled, design-obsessed heir would actually ask for a work position.
"You want to work?" Chairman Law boomed, his voice cracking through the room like a whip. "Don't you know how much that position is worth?! This isn't a child's game you get to play just because you want to! We need that seat for the sake of our family and its future success!"
"I know it's an important position, Father," I said, trying to sound as calm as possible even though I could faint any moment from the sheer force of his glare.
"You know how I took a year abroad to learn in the most respectable university, don't you? I'm sure I can manage a bit of management work."
This was a detail I'd snatched from the series—the original Austra's introductory airport scene, the classic "rich villainess returning from abroad" trope.
Lucky for me, that throwaway bit of backstory was about to become my lifeline.
"And... it will help me get closer to my beloved main le— I mean, CEO Han, too," I added, forcing a girlish chuckle, desperately trying to sell that this was still all just a lovesick scheme.
I saw the shift in their faces.
The tension drained, replaced by dawning comprehension.
Of course. Their daughter's bizarre request wasn't about ambition; it was just a new, convoluted tactic to chase her obsession. They were back on familiar ground.
Chairman Law tried to speak, his tone slightly mollified but still firm. "Even though, this is—"
I cut him off before he could finish, pouring every ounce of false conviction I had into my voice. "No buts. That is the only way I will agree to signing this."
I stood up from my seat, the movement startling them into silence. "If you agree with my condition, bring me the documents with the added clause."
Before they could form another word, I turned and walked out of the room in what I hoped was a haughty, decisive motion.
In reality, my heart was hammering so fast I felt lightheaded. I had no idea where I was going, my vision blurring with adrenaline.
Butler Kim, who had been standing sentinel outside the door, fell into step beside me. "This way, Miss," he murmured, his calm voice a guiding rope in my panic.
He led me unerringly through the labyrinth of marble and out the towering front doors, back to the sanctuary of the waiting car.
I practically fell into the leather seat, not caring where we were going. Anywhere was better than staying in that gilded cage with them.
Butler Kim said something quietly to the driver that I couldn't hear over the roaring in my ears.
The car pulled away from the curb, and I finally let myself slump against the window, a trembling mess who had just potentially won her first battle.
As the car glided through the Law mansion's imposing gates, the iron band around my chest finally loosened, allowing a shaky breath to escape.
Through the tinted window, I watched the fortress of white stone shrink in the distance, a symbol of the battle I'd just fought—and somehow, survived.
I pressed my cool hands against my flushed cheeks, forcing myself to think. When I first saw that contract, I knew exactly what it meant.
I was signing up to be a walking, talking obstacle for the main leads.
And we all know how that story ends for the villainess.
Ruin. Humiliation. A one-way ticket to narrative oblivion.
That was the original Austra's fate, and I had no intention of following her down that path.
My first, fangirl instinct had been to just tell them the truth:
"I don't want to marry Han Eun Woo! He should be with his secretary because... they're meant to be! They're my OTP!"
But I quickly realized how insane that would sound.
There was no universe where the Laws would let their daughter's delusional shipping habits get in the way of a billion-dollar corporate merger.
If I refused outright, they'd see me as a broken asset.
Disowned.
Thrown out onto the streets of a world I didn't understand, with no money, no resources, and no one to turn to.
So, when I saw that clause for the board seat, I saw a lifeline.
A chance to build my own power base.
I remembered the advice from my senior at the law firm, his voice clear in my memory: "In negotiations, kid, it's all about the poker face. It's about knowing how badly your opponent wants the deal."
I have no idea what my face looked like in there—probably a mess of terrified bravado. But I knew one thing for certain: the Laws wanted this deal with the Hans so badly they could taste it.
So, I took my shot. I bluffed with everything I had.
Now, all I can do is wait for the results.
I leaned my head against the cool glass, watching the city lights blur past.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely registered the car slowing down and turning into the underground parking lot of a sleek, unfamiliar building.
The engine cut, and silence descended, leaving me in the dim, concrete stillness, wondering where Butler Kim had brought me.
"We have arrived, Young Miss," Butler Kim's voice was a calm anchor in the strange silence of the parking garage.
"Arrived?" I repeated, my mind still whirring from the confrontation. I peered through the window at the rows of silent, expensive-looking cars. "Where is... this?"
"Yes, Miss. Your new residence is prepared and ready for you."
"Oh. I see."
The words felt inadequate. I slipped out of the car, my movements still feeling a little like I was piloting a mech suit.
Butler Kim fell into step beside me, leading me to a private elevator whose doors were polished to a mirror shine. He pressed a discreet button and they slid open without a sound.
Stepping inside was like entering a jewelry box. The interior was paneled with dark, warm wood and brushed gold accents.
A single, modern crystal sculpture was set into the wall. 'Truly a masterpiece,' I thought, running a finger over the smooth wood. 'I guess rich people really do live on a different planet.'
A soft ding announced each passing floor, the numbers above the door climbing steadily.
In the reflective surface of the doors, I could see Butler Kim's occasional, fleeting glances in my direction.
I'd felt them in the car, too. It made sense.
He'd practically raised the original Austra; he was probably the one person in this world who could sense that the soul inside this designer-clad shell was... different.
Finally, with a gentle chime, the elevator settled.
The doors opened directly into a private, impressively minimalist hallway, leading to a single apartment door at the end.
Butler Kim produced a key card from his inner pocket with a magician's grace, swiping it against the reader. A soft click echoed in the quiet hall.
He held the card out to me. "For you, Young Miss."
"Oh. Thanks," I said, taking it. My fingers brushed against his; his were steady, mine were not. I pushed the heavy door open.
"If you require anything at all, at any hour, please do not hesitate to call me," he said, remaining firmly on the threshold of the hallway, not stepping a single foot across the entryway.
It was a line he would not cross without invitation. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
"I guess you have to return..." I murmured, mostly to myself. Then, remembering my manners, I called out a little more loudly as he began to turn, "Good night!" I gave an awkward, small wave.
Butler Kim paused. For a single, unguarded second, his usual composure shifted.
His eyes widened just a fraction, a flicker of profound surprise—and something softer, something almost like warmth—before he schooled his features, bowed deeply, and retreated down the hall without another word.
I closed the door slowly, leaning against it with a sigh. "It seems I need to work on my behavior from now on."
Pushing myself away from the door, I finally took in the room. I had been expecting it, but this was something else entirely.
The apartment was a study in modern, breathtaking luxury.
The entire far wall was a single, seamless curve of floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a panoramic, postcard-perfect view of the Han River and the glittering Seoul skyline beyond.
The floors were a pale, polished concrete, warmed by a huge, silken rug in a calming, neutral tone.
The furniture was low-slung and sculptural, all clean lines and soft grey upholstery.
A single, dramatic piece of art—a splash of deep blue and gold—graced one wall.
It wasn't just a place to live; it was a statement.
A beautiful, lonely, terrifying statement.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, my mind struggling to process the sheer scale of the space.
My old apartment—a shoebox where I could practically touch opposite walls if I stretched out my arms—could have fit into this living room alone.
Twice. The air here didn't smell of damp and instant noodles, but of clean linen and money. It was silent, peaceful, and utterly surreal.
Dragging my feet, I walked to the massive glass wall, pressing my palms against the cool surface.
The city sprawled out below, a dazzling tapestry of neon and life.
That's when I noticed how high the moon was, how deep the night had become.
A wave of exhaustion hit me so hard my knees nearly buckled. It felt like a lifetime had been crammed into a single day: the truck, the splash, the confrontation, the contract...
My brain was a tangled mess of panic and half-formed plans, but the fog of fatigue was too thick to fight through.
I needed to sleep. Now.
Stumbling away from the view, I wandered through the apartment, opening a few doors—a bathroom bigger than my old bedroom, a walk-in closet empty and waiting—before finally finding the master suite.
And "master suite" was an understatement.
It was a cavern of calm, dominated by a bed so massive it looked less like a piece of furniture and more like a geographical feature.
It seemed more it was a bed for two people and all their drama, with room left over for a couple of scheming side characters.
I didn't have the energy for anything else. I toed off my ridiculously expensive heels, letting them drop to the floor with two dull thuds.
Still in the clothes I'd worn to throw water on the female lead, I took a running start and launched myself face-first into the mattress.
It was like being swallowed by a cloud.
A supportive, heavenly, memory-foam cloud. A final, coherent thought drifted through my mind as I sank into oblivion:
'So, this is that famous 'Myeon' mattress they're always sponsoring in the dramas... No wonder they shove the logo in our faces... it sure as hell is... comfy~'
And then, nothing.
* * *
CRASH!
A sudden, shattering sound ripped me from the depths of sleep.