Moon Byulyi, the silver-haired woman tossed her long hair over her shoulder, frowning hard. She was dressed in a silk bathrobe, matched with another pair of luxurious silk trousers, her eyes blearily. “What do you mean I’m getting married?” demanded the twenty-nine-year-old rapper, her brilliant blue eyes dark with a hint of irritation. “I’m not interested in marriage or mating.” She tugged at the hem of the bathrobe absently.

Her manager sighed, raking his hand through his short curly hair absently. He hated having such discussion about her personal life. He was trying his best not to look at the closed door of the bedroom just a distance away. He was certain that they were not as alone as he would like to be.

The manager shifted in her expensive leather sofa, trying to find the best way to convince his stubborn charge. He considered from all angles before he gave it straight to her. “Moonbyul-nim, it is orders from CEO Lee. You are spending too much time partying and sleeping around that this might be a good way of cleaning up your reputation.”

Moonbyul quirked a silver brow, stretching an arm lazily across the back of the sofa. “I don’t make public appearances.” Her cherry-shaped lips thinned. It was difficult at first to remain anonymous in the public sphere but her company had managed to maintain secrecy of her identity for five years. It did help that she was from a rich family who could afford to give her privacy in the middle of the bustling city. Her studio apartment was spacious and opulent, the sort that any bachelorette would love. She spared no expenses on comfort aesthetics, uniting them in rather subdued manner that required true connoisseur to know its hefty price tag.

The manager took his iPad with an article about her and showed it to the omega, who was sitting with her legs crossed. She sighed when she noted that Dispatch was on her tail again, trying to uncover all the paramours she had over the years. “If they were not famous and powerful alphas, you wouldn’t even need to clean up your image, Byul.”

Byulyi clicked her tongue out of annoyance. “You know it is a discrimination against omegas. If I were an alpha, no one would bat a bloody eye—”

“You’re an omega female who has dated billionaires, industry leaders and famous celebrities and it is a stretch to consider them your dates since you usually only enjoy their company for several nights.”

The silver-haired woman grounded her jaws. “They could only keep my interest for a few nights before they want me to be their long-term paramour,” answered the silver-haired rapper tiredly, running her hand through her silky hair. She was simply allergic to the idea of a commitment due to her unique upbringing, typical of her social class.

Her Apa was forced to mate with her Umma, an arrangement by the elders. After they had her, the heir to their estate, they barely kept the pretence of a relationship, returning to their lovers and proceeded to have healthy and happy families.

“Why would CEO Lee want me to participate in this sham of a marriage when it will be my first public appearance?” She stood up, walked to the bar and poured herself a very healthy amount of whiskey from the decanter. She blew the fumes before sipping it, smacking her lips in enjoyment of the rich, complex alcohol, with its rich and full notes. “We still have an agreement to keep my identity a secret.” She set the cystal glass on the marble counter.

“Yes, that agreement.” He clasped his hands together. “You know that you will eventually have to disclose your identity to maintain the public’s interest. It is a good time for you to transit to a respectable public figure,” decided the manager, giving her his widest smile that did not reach his eyes.

Byulyi finished the rest of the intoxicating alcohol in a long swing, setting it on the black marble counter. “OK. Which poor victim will be my partner?” She washed an apple and began chewing on it nosily.

The crunching sounds filled the quiet modern kitchenette which did not see much cooking.

“No idea. It will be a respectable alpha celebrity around your age. We could make a list and try to guess who your partner might be. CEO Lee wants you to promise that you’ll walk the straight and narrow path at least during the duration of your marriage. I believe that there was a scandal about a couple on this program who was seeing others at the same time.”  

The silver-haired woman snorted after swallowing her apple. “Of course, I will not disrespect my on-screen partner. It’s only respectful.” She had spent her life moving from one fling to another, avoiding any sort of prolonged attachment simply because she wanted to maintain the sacredness of marriage due to her upbringing. She wanted to marry or mate someone she was in love with and shared her views about commitment.

Her life was too good for her to desire to settle down with an individual for the rest of her life. However, she was intrigued with the idea of a pretend marriage. Maybe, she might discover that she was not even suited to the idea of a house with a white picket fence, and 1.5 pups.

The beautiful rapper turned to look at her manager, her eyes gleaming with promise. “I will honour my partner.”

The manager paused and studied her countenance for a long time. He could tell that his usually carefree charge was committed to the idea. “I have the contract. Do you mind signing it now?”

The silver-haired omega sighed aloud, padding to the living room again where his briefcase was. She returned to her seat, her back ramrod straight.

The manager began a quick recap of the important events that she needed to note for the programme. The show was a series of missions that the married couple needed to fulfil and it would culminate in a honeymoon overseas.

Byulyi checked through the contract carefully, before she signed the contract with a flourish. Next, she was given a form to fill out so that the broadcasting firm could match her to a suitable partner. Her silver brows furrowed at the question of what she was looking for in a partner. She bit her bottom lip, staring at the empty spaces.

She wrote the first thing that came to her mind. “Sincere, pleasant to look at, doesn’t mind my dating history and good at starting conversations.” She nodded to herself, accepting these four traits.

Her manager glanced at the traits she was hoping to see in her partner and sighed. “Doesn’t mind your dating history? That will be tough.”

Byulyi gave an absent shrug. “Aren’t there people who don’t judge you for your past and take you as how you are?”

“In the entertainment world?” clarified the manager, raising a brow at her naïve.

“I don’t wish to be the cause of my partner’s cardiac arrest when they learn of my colourful dating history.” Byulyi stowed the documents into the envelope and handed it back to the manager. She took a flash drive and handed it to him. “My latest compositions for the OST. “

“Ah right, you did say that you were done with them this morning.”

Byulyi smiled faintly at him. “Yea, this morning. I was inspired. If there isn’t anything important, I need to return to my guest. Please let yourself out.”

“Wait, Byul, do I need to do damage control for this rendezvous?” asked the manager, feeling a headache coming on. He had spotted an additional pair of leather shoes when he entered the apartment.

“No, he isn’t anyone you know," returned Byulyi, a lazy smile stretching across her face. She grabbed another crystal glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey into them. She carried both glasses and padded towards th