The model car gleams under the lights, and so does my smile.
This is it. My design. My first real competition.
No family name, no father's shadow. Just me, Han Harin, junior designer at a small startup, here because I earned it.
I worked for months on this design, sketching till dawn, sneaking into the workshop after hours, eating instant ramen just to save time. And now, standing on this stage, surrounded by industry professionals, I can taste the possibility of victory.
If I win this competition, everything changes.I'll finally have something real to show Minho. Today is supposed to be proof that even without my real identity, without privilege, without wealth…I can still shine.
I can already imagine Minho's face when I tell him. He'll laugh that soft laugh of his and say, See? Hard work pays off.
And maybe, just maybe, when I finally tell him the truth about who I really am, he'll understand I never needed privilege to stand beside him.
"Entry 37, Han Harin," the announcer calls.
I step forward, hands trembling, but my smile holds. The judges circle the model, murmuring. One of them frowns. Another checks his tablet.
"Miss Han," the head judge says slowly, "where did you source this concept?"
I blink. "I designed it, sir."
He taps something on the screen. "This design was already presented last week at Baek Sujin's private exhibition. Are you saying you created it first?"
"What?" My voice comes out thin. "That's impossible."
People shift. Whispers rise. Someone gasps.
"Same lines…"
"Same rear contour…"
"She copied an heiress?"
"No, I—" My mouth is dry. "I never even saw her exhibition. Please, let me explain—"
"Miss Han," the judge cuts in, expression iced. "We take plagiarism seriously."
The room tilts. Cameras lift. I can see my boss in the audience, jaw tight, already looking betrayed.
I want to run. To wake up somewhere else. But my feet stay glued to the stage.
"Security will escort you out," someone says. "You're disqualified."
Disqualified.
The word rings in my head long after I'm pushed into the corridor. Reporters hover outside the hall; flashes explode in my face. I keep walking until I reach the quiet back exit and press against the wall, trying to breathe.
This can't be real.
It can't.
I pull out my phone with shaking fingers and search the headline.
"Heiress Baek Sujin Reveals Breakthrough Car Design."
A thumbnail video loads. I press play.
The screen fills with Sujin's perfect smile as she stands beside the exact same prototype. Reporters cheer.
A familiar figure steps into the frame behind her.
My breath catches.
Tall.Confident.A suit I ironed for him just last week.
He leans close to her, saying something I can't hear, and she laughs softly, like they've known each other for years.
I zoom in.
No.Please—no.
The camera focuses as the reporter announces:
"Representing Baek Sujin's team is CEO Seo Minho—"
My vision spins.
Minho.My Minho.
Standing on stage.Beside another woman.Presenting my design like it was theirs.
My fingers shake so hard I almost drop the phone.
I replay the moment, desperate to be wrong.
But the camera is merciless.
It shows exactly what I refused to see.
My Minho smiles at Sujin in a way he has never smiled at me.
Something cracks, sharp and painful, deep in my chest.
The word escapes my mouth before I can stop it, "…Minho?"