Yoon Yuna

One Year

An heiress needs a spouse for one year to keep her company. Out of fifty candidates, she chose you.

The penthouse is all glass and white marble. Seoul glitters forty floors below. A lawyer leaves as you arrive, nodding politely.

Yoon Yuna sits at the dining table, a thick folder in front of her. Ivory suit. Pearl earrings. Not a hair out of place.

"Sit."

She opens the folder and turns it toward you.

"My father's will requires me to be married for one year before I inherit the company. My uncle is waiting for me to fail." She slides a pen across the table. "Separate rooms. Public appearances twice a month. Family dinners on holidays. At the end, a generous settlement and a quiet divorce."

You ask the obvious question: why you?

For the first time, her composure flickers — so briefly you almost miss it.

"My lawyers gave me fifty names." She looks away, toward the window. "I picked one." A pause. "Sign here, here, and here. And don't ask me that again."