Min-jae's POV
The ride to the bridal boutique felt like sitting in the backseat of my own funeral car. I know, I know. This was the whole plan and the whole idea. But when I realized I had lost, I was ready to start something else. I may not be school smart but I know the reason he wants me isn't so good.
The building was huge. White and shiny. Expensive. The kind of place rich couples pretended to be in love while swiping black cards and sipping champagne. Meanwhile, I sat there sweating bullets under a wig and a binder, praying none of these wedding gremlins had functioning eyes.
When the car stopped, Jae-hyun didn't even look at me. He just opened his own door and ordered, "Out."
Like I was a dog.
I got out anyway, mostly because if I stayed any longer the seat would soak in fear-sweat and I'd have to live with that humiliation forever.
The glass doors slid open and warm air hit my face. People inside paused like they felt the CEO's presence, then bowed like synchronized robots.
And I stood next to him like a malfunctioning Roomba.
One woman ; tall, red lipstick, sharp eyes rushed forward.
"CEO Kang! We prepared the private hall. Is this the bride?"
I nearly puked on her shoes.
Jae-hyun nodded. "Yes. Handle her."
Her?
God.
She gestured dramatically. "Follow me, Miss."
The private hall was massive. Racks of dresses. Mannequins. Fancy lights. About seven stylists waiting like vultures. They circled me the moment I stepped in, touching everything my hair, my cheeks, my shoulders.
One snapped her fingers. "Strip the upper layers for measurements."
My soul left my body.
"My what?" I asked, trying to laugh. It came out sounding like a dying grasshopper.
"Your outer clothes," she clarified, already pulling at my sleeve. "We need shoulder width, bust, waist…"
Bust.
No.
No no no…
I stepped back so fast I hit a mannequin.
Jae-hyun, who'd been pretending to read emails while smirking at my suffering, finally looked up.
"What's the holdup?"
I glared at him like my vision alone could stab him. "You can't just stand there and…."
"You're being slow," he cut in. "Hurry."
The tallest stylist clapped her hands. "We need full measurements for the dress. Please lift your arms."
She reached for the zipper at my back.
Which would expose the binder.
Which would expose me.
Which would kill me.
I slapped her hand away by instinct. "I….I can do it myself."
Her eyes narrowed. "Bride, you're shaking. Are you cold?"
No. I was dying.
Before I could come up with an excuse, another stylist crouched in front of me with a measuring tape, going for my lower waist. And because life hated me, she pushed it lower. Too low.
Too close.
She paused. "Oh. What's… this…?"
Her fingers brushed the bulge the binder couldn't hide completely.
My entire bloodstream turned into static.
"It's nothing!" I yelped, jumping like I'd been electrocuted. "Hands up! Hands off! Don't touch!"
She blinked at me. "But…it felt…"
"NOPE," I said, voice cracking. "I'm sensitive. Skin condition. Weird nerve thing. Textbook rare disease. Google it."
Her brows furrowed. "Really? Should we adjust…"
"No touching below the waist," I insisted. "Doctor's orders. It's a sacred boundary."
The other stylists exchanged looks.
I forced a smile so big my jaw hurt.
One of them whispered, "Maybe she's shy."
Another one whispered louder, "Or hiding something…"
"Hey," I snapped. "Stop guessing. My body is none of your business."
Jae-hyun approached, bored but obviously entertained. "Why are you dramatic?"
"Because you kidnapped me into a wedding factory," I hissed.
He ignored that. "Let them work."
"They're trying to touch areas that are strictly off-limits!"
The tallest stylist folded her arms. "Mrs..Miss Min-jae, we have to measure."
I needed a distraction. A miracle. A lightning strike. Anything.
Instead, I got Jae-hyun stepping in like a dictator.
"She's modest," he announced, like modesty explained my violent reactions. "Only measure over the clothing."
"That'll make the dress loose," one complained.
"I don't care." He flicked his wrist. "Do it."
My knees nearly gave out from relief.
The stylists reluctantly worked around the binder without touching it. One tugged at my arms. Another wrapped the tape around my ribs above the binder. Another tried to press against my stomach to "check posture," and I twisted away so fast she almost tripped.
When they finished, they all looked exhausted like I was a feral cat they'd attempted to groom without gloves.
"Measurements taken," one muttered, rubbing her temples.
"Finally," Jae-hyun said. "Next."
Next?
The door opened. A small army of makeup artists entered.
"Wait…hold on…." I tried backing away.
Too late.
I was dragged to a chair and pinned there by powder, brushes, and sprays. They were layering makeup on top of the makeup I'd already glued to my skin earlier. They didn't know they were stacking on top of a foundation that could survive the apocalypse.
My best friend Soo-ah had picked this makeup, bragging that it wouldn't even wash off in a thunderstorm.
She was right.
One artist scrubbed lightly and frowned. "Why isn't this removing?"
"Sensitive skin," I blurted. "Acidic tears. Chemical imbalance."
She blinked. "Oh. Should I use less pressure?"
"Yes. Or I'll die."
She nodded politely and continued.
Great. Perfect. Amazing. My whole face was now a plaster wall of gender deception.
Jae-hyun walked by, glancing at me like I was a misbehaving prop. "Stop frowning. Brides don't frown."
"Then stop giving me reasons to."
"Fix her attitude," he told the artists. "She looks like she wants to stab me."
One makeup artist whispered, "Most brides do, sir."
Jae-hyun ignored her.
When the makeup team pulled away, I looked in the mirror.
I didn't recognize my own face.
They'd softened everything chin, jawline, brows. I looked… strangely pretty. Pretty enough that even I didn't look like a guy anymore.
Small win, I guess.
Then the torture escalated.
The etiquette instructor walked in.
She carried a stick.
A literal stick.
No.
"That's for posture," she said gently. "Don't worry. I only hit people who slouch."
I sat up straight like someone poured cement down my spine.
Jae-hyun smirked. "Good."
The instructor began.
"Walk toward me."
I walked.
"No. Walk like a bride."
"How the hell does a bride walk differently?!"
She poked my shoulder with the stick. "Like someone who isn't running from their husband."
I scowled. Jae-hyun smiled wider.
"Again," the instructor demanded.
.