The balcony turned out to be a lot bigger than what she’d previously seen through the doors. Baekhyun had already left by the time Mari took five steps in and she tried not to let her shoulders drop, refusing to show any signs of disappointment. She was confused, to say the least, over his treatment. There were moments when he looked at her in an open and welcoming manner, only to have that side of him shut down in an instant.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to be friends with him.

She was in a new country surrounded in a language she’d never even spoken before, a place where the only thing familiar to her was the bustling servants who all refused to look her in the eye. Just like how she always had her whole life, Mari felt alienated. She was just the same as these people; all made of the same skin and have the same red-colored liquid flowing through their veins. Mari couldn’t understand why there was such a barrier between her and her people. Conflicted and confused, she chose to do what she’d always been doing all along: keep her chin held high and pretend to find solace and comfort in the fact she wasn’t seen.

She was afraid of both being seen and not being looked at, but she didn’t know which one bothered her more. A hundred pairs of eyes scrutinizing her and peeling off her skin layer by layer, or for people to walk past her like she meant nothing at all.

Mari believed her wish was simple. She wanted to be seen. Not scrutinized, not ignored. But seen, just as her words were always heard.

Her contemplation dissipated the moment she neared the glass table draped in soft, red wine silk cloth with roses and vanilla scented candles lit. From her right side lay the infinity pool, the side nearest to the edge flowing with water and the whole pool covered in flowers that brought out the clear blueness of the tiles beneath. Behind her stood the entirety of Seoul, shimmering like stars on the ground, and Mari stood staring at the city.

It was unbelievable to her, how Tokyo and Seoul and were alike in many aspects, like how both cities always had towering skyscrapers and streets filled with the night chatter of people. Growing up, she found it comforting that just beyond her doors lay millions of other lives of people, all probably eating and sleeping the same way she did. It made her feel more connected to her surroundings, with the knowledge that perhaps she wasn’t as different from the rest as her parents made her believe to be, but things like that didn’t seem so simple anymore when she grew afraid of the world, the noises, its people, and the power of crowds. Very sooner than later, the only thing Mari could remember was being locked behind ten feet tall mahogany double doors that required her retinal scan and fingerprints that would lead her into the safe space of her own home, and she took a step back, blinking as the sight overwhelmed her.

Now that she thought about it, her house barely had any windows at all.

The sight of Seoul, her hometown in Tokyo — how could she say where she was exactly when she didn’t know what one looked like?

Mari hadn’t even realized she’d already sat down, almost as if her body knew she needed to rest on something stable before she fell again. She’d gotten so good at tuning everything out and blocking her own thoughts that, for the millionth time since she was a child, Mari’s brows furrowed by her surroundings before she suddenly remembered she was in a dinner.

She’d completely forgotten about her hometown.

“Wine, Miss?”

Mari turned to the profound Japanese accent of the voice, surprised to see that she was being served by one of her people from the assistance team. Her cheeks flamed when she realized this young man probably had to live thousands of kilometres away from his family to serve her, and she didn’t even know his name.

She hoped her bow expressed her gratitude in many ways. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

The young dark haired man spared her a glance; one that was understanding. Mari couldn’t help but let her teeth show as she smiled more, thinking that maybe not all hope was lost. He poured her the wine after mentioning something about it being from the 1940’s with a French name. She faintly recognized it as one of her Mother’s most prized possessions as she got it from a Duke on her eighteenth birthday. Her Mother treasured the drink so much she had it kept in a separate wine cellar and never once opened it.

Mari wondered why her Mother would give it to her.

Five minutes passed, and then ten became thirty. The candles were slowly starting to melt and Mari had been in the middle of counting the 152nd flower on the pool just as the servants from the back were speaking in hushed whispers, tension all over the place.

Unsurprisingly, Park Chanyeol was late again.

Mari’s stomach rumbled as her dinnertime had passed by at least an hour and a half ago, whatnot with getting a makeover and now waiting for her fiance. Part of her debated on just walking back to her room and ordering food from the concierge when she remembered her parents’ enthusiasm on her marriage, how they were probably anticipating this more than her. She decided it was better to stay put.

“Fujiwara Mariko?” a deep, firm voice echoed through the open area of the balcony, the sound making Mari pause on the 170th flower.

She found herself bolting out of her seat in the most unladylike manner, eyes wide as saucers as her hands trembled at the sight of a tall man in a dark, three-piece tailored suit with linen she’d only ever seen her Father wear once, walk over to her. Her gaze travelled from his hair, bleached to a platinum white and shaved at the sides and brushed all to the middle to create the perfect thick, volumized hair that she was sure would be soft if she ran her hands through it. Two large, awkward ears protruded just from beside his dark, empty eyes — unlike Baekhyun’s, his eyes held no warmth or playfulness in them at all. Maybe it was because it was dark and he was still at an arm’s length away from her that she couldn’t see it properly, but she was so sure of it.

There was no mistake.

Park Chanyeol’s eyes were cold, unreadable, and empty.

The sight of his steely gaze brought a chill down her spine that she focused on the slope of his strong nose instead, leading to a set of plump, pinkish lips formed into a million dollar smile that showed flawless, unchipped teeth. His smile was so natural and friendly that if not for his eyes, Mari would’ve been fooled that he actually seemed pleased to see her. No, it seemed like he was smiling at her in a way that she should feel thankful he even smiled at her. She had no doubt it was that same smile that led to his success as it charmed hundreds of other businessmen like him, and she was certain it was that smile that made the entirety of Seoul fall at his feet.

“I humbly apologize for my tardiness, there were some matters I had to attend to.” Confusion and disappointment spread through her as he stretched his hand out for her to shake. She shook it with an equally forced smile, although she was sure it looked more like a grimace. Mari was never good at faking her emotions. She was only relieved he was fluent in Japanese.

She took a deep breath. Even his hands were cold, his handshake firm and his grip a little too tight that she pulled away, balling her hands into a fist as she cleared .

“I’m Chanyeol, Park Chanyeol.”

I don’t know who you are, she thought, you’re not the same man from the tabloids.

“You’re—”

“Your fiance. Please, take a seat.” He gestured for both of them to sit down and she followed, mimicking his gestures of folding the napkin and placing it on their lap while three servants arrived with a trolley filled with food. “I must say, you’re a lot more beautiful in person. The photos don’t do you justice.”

Her brows rose, “You’ve seen photos of me?”

“Occasionally. Your parents would send me photos of you as a birthday present.”

“They did that?! I am so sorry, that must’ve been extremely rude of us.” She bowed lowly until her forehead nearly reached the table, her bangs falling and brushing against the linen cloth. The mere thought of having her parents send him photographs of her when she hadn’t even seen a camera the past few years made her wince. “I’m very sorry.”

Chanyeol smiled, “Don’t be. Seeing my fiance in perfect health was more than I could ask for. I really looked forward to meeting you.” He was charming, just like Mina said. His voice was deep and masculine, all power and dominance that Mari felt overwhelmed. Unaware of his effect on her, he nonchalantly pointed to her plate that now had a serving of the most delectable smelling meat she’d ever come across. “I assume you’re not vegetarian?”

“No, not at all.”

He flashed her a bright smile and reached out with a knife and fork in his hand. Mari’s first reaction was to pull back just as she felt tighten in fear, the instinctual fear springing out unexpectedly.

Why did it feel like she’d seen this before?

Chanyeol kept his gaze down on the food and started to slice her steak in smaller, more edible pieces. Mari sighed quietly in relief, choosing to ignore how Chanyeol made the knife look small in his large hands. “You’ll love this then. Fresh Alpine steak from the Netherlands left in worcestershire sauce for 48 hours. Sprinkled in Swiss cheese and dijon mustard. It’s a must have delicacy.”

She forced out a laugh, “It smells great!”

“Please, help yourself.”

Mari nodded eagerly. Her previous silly fears had now been overtaken by her hunger that she dug in while still being aware and conscious of her actions. She remembered how her Mother drilled into her the fine dining methods and made Mari perfect it at age four, suddenly feeling thankful that her Mother was strict enough to make Mari keep up to high-class customs. She’d already been clumsy enough when he first arrived that she wanted to do better, completely determined to show him that she was more than lousy bones and trembling hands.

Mari had to show him who she was and what she was capable of. She had to show him that she wasn’t just his fiance but also the CEO of a powerful company group that reigned over Tokyo for centuries. Most importantly, she was representing her family, and she had to make them proud.

With an elegant wave of her knife, she swallowed slowly and delicately patted the sauce on her lips with the napkin before starting conversation. Her Mother’s words of the best way to impress a man was not through his stomach, but through the woman’s knowledge and intelligence of business instead rang in her head. “I heard you had an emergency meeting in Busan last week. I’m hoping things went well?”

There was a slight falter in Chanyeol’s movements, “I’m glad you asked. I’ve only ever heard high praises of your skills in business so I think you’ll be able to help me out,” he looked at Mari expectantly, almost challengingly, and she met his gaze with a confident smile as if to say ‘try me.’ Chanyeol didn’t skip a single beat and ate another bite, a smirk barely evident but definitely there on his face. “My parents built a high-r