Annyeongz One-shots

44. Hate

The private dining room was too quiet for the number of people seated inside it.

Crystal chandeliers glowed softly above the long mahogany table, casting polite light over polite smiles that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes. This was the kind of room where decisions were made—mergers signed, futures sealed—and tonight, two lives were about to be folded neatly into a contract neither of them had written.

Wonyoung sat with her hands folded in her lap, fingers pressed together so tightly her knuckles ached. Her posture was perfect, back straight, chin lifted just enough to appear composed. Only her mother, seated beside her, noticed the way her knee trembled under the table.

“It’s alright,” her mother whispered softly, barely moving her lips. “Just breathe.”

Wonyoung nodded, though her throat felt too tight for air. She loved her mother—deeply, desperately. Her mother was warmth, gentleness, the only shield she’d ever had against her father’s sharp expectations. But tonight, even that shield felt thin.

Across the table sat Yujin.

He hadn’t spoken since he arrived.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he looked more like a man attending a board meeting than a dinner meant to introduce a future wife. His expression was unreadable, eyes dark and distant, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the table—as if all of this was merely background noise interrupting his real life.

Money. Work. Numbers. Strategy.

That was his world.

Women had never been part of the equation.

“Yujin,” his father finally spoke, voice low and commanding. “At least acknowledge your future partner.”

The word partner landed heavily in the room.

Yujin lifted his eyes at last, slowly, as if he were being inconvenienced. His gaze met Wonyoung’s for the first time.

She felt it like a sudden drop.

His eyes were cold—not cruel, but detached. The kind of gaze that evaluated, calculated, and moved on. Not a flicker of curiosity, not even disinterest. Just… nothing.

“Nice to meet you,” he said flatly, giving a brief nod.

No smile. No warmth.

Wonyoung bowed her head politely in return. “Nice to meet you too.”

Her voice didn’t shake, though inside, something shrank.

Her father cleared his throat, clearly satisfied with the formality. “This partnership between our companies will be historic,” he said. “And with this marriage, stability will be ensured.”

Marriage.

Not love. Not happiness. Stability.

Yujin’s mother glanced between the two of them, her expression softer, tinged with concern. “You both are young,” she said gently. “There’s no rush. You can take time to get to know each other.”

Yujin’s father shot her a sharp look. “Time is money.”

Yujin didn’t react. He never did.

Wonyoung’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her dress. She was used to this—being spoken about rather than spoken to. Her father had raised her to obey, to smile, to never question. Fear was familiar. Silence was survival.

But sitting across from Yujin, she realized something unsettling.

He wasn’t afraid.

He simply didn’t care.