Prologue


Japan. A beautiful house in the prestigious address. Time: 5:45PM. Six hours after the tragedy.
In the lounge, the air was fraught with tension. People stood in small groups. Some were speaking in lowand muffled voices, others were letting slip sobs or comforting each other. Some even stayed away, walled on silence and stillness.
They were waiting.

Chaerin was part of them, sitting alone on one of the sofas. Eyes on the carpet, ignoring those around her, she seemed calm and cool.
But it was only a facade. In fact, every movement, every sound, reverberated painfully in her, and she remained seated and, straight and rigid, because it was certain that if she moved even if a muscle, her whole self -control would abandon her.
It had almost happened once, when they announced her the terrible news. In shock, she uttered a cry of despair, and perhaps her nerves would have dropped if they didn't force her to lie down and swallowing tranquilizers to calm her anxiety. To forget.

Forget! She refused, of course! How a woman - a mother - could have sought refuge in sleep, at a time like this?

But because her reaction panicked them, because they needed to transfer their concerns about someone close, and because she lacked the strength to fight both against themselves and against the terror that was swallowing her, she was trying to be strong and, behind a frozen mask of calmness and coldness, she began her silent vigil on the couch. She sat there for hours now. Hours ....
She was waiting.
Like them all, she was waiting for the man who was coming to take over the situation.
He was coming, had they said. As if they expected that it will relieve her. But nothing could. Nothing!

Suddenly, the screeching of tires on the gravel made ​​them all jump. All except Chaerin.
There was voices in the hall. One of them broke away, more serious, more cutting, more authoritarian. A shiver of excitement aded the room.
Then feet moved towards the closed door of the room. Everyone turned in that direction. The door opened and the eyes were fixed on the man who appeared on the threshold.

Chaerin, she kept her brown eyes fixed on the piece of carpet she gazed for hours.
Tall, black hair, the newcomer wore a gray cashmere suit that highlighted his impressive figure. His straight nose, his sensual mouth with an resolved expression: while everything in him breathed authority and virility. As for his eyes cold and piercing, they had the golden reflections from those of a tiger.

The few seconds that he stood motionless in the doorway seemed like an eternity. Everyone held their breath, as if paralyzed by the feeling of power that emanated from his person. The hard and piercing gaze continued its observation. And finally, he found that he sought. Chaerin. Immured in her isolation, with downcast eyes, apparently oblivious to what was happening around her.
At that moment, something changed in the eyes of the man. Nobody would have said exactly what, but everyone realizes it, were immediately traveled by an icy shudder. A flexible step, advanced to the middle of the room. Then, as if he had forgotten the presence of the anxious group that crowded into the living room, he planted himself before her.
-Chaerin?
She did not flinch. Only her eyes moved, and settled on the man's black leather shoes.
-Chaerin.

This time the voice contained a threatening tone, which had the desired effect: the young woman blinked and looked up, looking without seeing the body supple, cashmere suit, the fabric of fine white shirt, before to stop, lost, at the man's golden eyes .... The only man in this world she never wanted to see again.
How long had it been? Two years? Rather three ... He had not changed much.
And why would he change anyway? Kwon Jiyong was an important man. A powerful man. A rich man who could afford the most beautiful homes in all capitals. He was born to have power, with a frown, can make all those around him bow their heads.

This man had everything going for him. A beautiful face, great body. What could three years change to that?
If circumstances were different, Chaerin would have had a bitter smile.
He was the relentless prosecutor, and she was sinful. Well, according to his views. For those of Chaerin was quite different. And neither was willing to give - or to stop hating each other.

Three years. Three years of silent resentment, suppressed. And the resentment was still there, just hidden. Three years during which Jiyong could no longer bear her presence, and now he had the aplomb to appear before her, to pronounce her name as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It was not natural, they both knew it. Chaerin was in no condition to play the comedy to save his pride. Especially not with this man whom she hated with such intensity that she had once loved.

AN: and it has started!!