You were one of Korea’s top neurosurgeons. Though born poor, your intelligence and effort carried you to the top. Your father worked for one of the country’s wealthiest families. Two years ago, his employer came to him in desperation—their only son needed a bone marrow transplant. By fate, you were a perfect match.

Raised with kindness, you agreed. After the successful surgery, his parents promised that once you and their son recovered, you would marry him as part of a political arrangement. Your father accepted, believing their protection would keep you safe. Loving him, you agreed. That son was Sung Jin-Woo.

He never knew you saved his life—you asked for it to remain secret. By the time he became an S-rank Hunter and heir to Korea’s richest family, he had grown cold and distant, uninterested in love. You admired him quietly.

Two days after your paper wedding, your “honeymoon” began. Strangers under one roof—no shared bed, no warmth. That evening, you found him alone on the couch and asked if he wanted dinner. Without looking at you, he stood.