Chaebol in Paradise

6.

The morning coffee stirred me awake as I sat on the balcony, basking in the breathtaking view of Paradiso Island. The ocean shimmered under the golden hues of the rising sun, and the lively buzz of the morning markets below blended with the rhythmic crash of waves. It was the kind of peace I wished I could cling to forever.

My reverie was abruptly interrupted when a hand snatched my coffee mug. I turned, startled, to find Min-jun gulping it down with zero remorse.

"Why would you drink black coffee? Whatever happened to milk? That was disgusting," he declared, pulling a face.

"You finished it, though!" I shot back.

"Because there was caramel in it. Nice touch," he admitted with a shrug.

"What do you want, Min-jun?" I asked, already weary of his antics.

"Get dressed. There’s a wedding at the reception, and we’re attending," he said nonchalantly.

My head whipped toward him, disbelief painted across my face. "Do you even know the people getting married?"

"Not at all," he admitted with a grin. "But weddings here are big. They don’t know half the people on their guest list anyway. You’ll be the groom’s fourteenth cousin, and I’ll be your charming date."

"Why am I the cousin? And why the groom?"

"Men can barely keep up with who’s family and who isn’t," he said, shrugging. "And I’m the date because, let’s face it, I’m prettier."

"I promised my sister I’d throw any man over a balcony if he ever called himself pretty," I retorted.

"Be my guest," he said, arms outstretched in challenge.

I lunged at him, attempting to shove him toward the balcony, but he didn’t budge.

"You’re trying so hard it’s actually concerning," he teased, his tone dripping with amusement.

I threw my hands up in frustration. "You’re terrible. You know that, right?"

"Terribly handsome, might I add. Now go shower first. You need it more than I do," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"I don’t stink!" I protested, slapping his arm. "It’s the heat. This island is like living in an oven!"

I stormed off to the bathroom, letting the cold water cascade down my back to drown my frustration. Half an hour passed before he banged on the door.

"You’ve been in there too long!" he shouted. "I know women take thousands of years to get ready, but the wedding will be over if you don’t hurry up. If you want to look beautiful, stop soaking like a sponge and get out!"

Grumbling, I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out. He walked past me with a smirk.

"Finally. Don’t take so long next time. I need my turn to shine," he said, shutting the door behind him.

I shook my head and focused on getting ready. Weddings were a battlefield for appearances. Every woman knew to outshine the competition—except the bride, of course. It was her sacred duty to outdress us all. Still, a girl had to look her best; weddings were prime matchmaking grounds.

By the time I was done, Min-jun was dressed and pacing the room.

"We’ve got fifteen minutes till it starts. Stop everything and let’s go," he said, poking his head into the bedroom.

"I’m not ready," I protested, fluffing my hair.

"Who cares? We weren’t invited anyway," he retorted, grabbing my arm to pull me to my feet. "How do I look?" I asked, smoothing down the navy dress I’d packed for emergencies.