Min jae's POV
Soo-ah was already mad at me before I even sat down.
She had a makeup brush in one hand and a glare sharp enough to cut through my excuses.
"Sit. Don't talk," she said.
"I didn't even say anything."
"Good. Keep it that way."
I sat. The chair was low, my knees pressed awkwardly together, and she started dabbing foundation like she was preparing me for war. Which, technically, she was.
The lights in her room were too bright, bouncing off the mirror and making my skin look like porcelain. My heart hadn't stopped pounding since I woke up. It wasn't fear exactly more like disbelief that I was doing this at all.
A guy pretending to be a rich heiress. Competing for a fake marriage with a real CEO. What could possibly go wrong?
"You're breathing weird," she said.
"I'm trying to stay alive."
"Do it quietly."
Her voice was all calm focus, but I could see her hands tremble just a little. She wouldn't admit it, but she was nervous too. Soo-ah cared too much and always pretended she didn't.
Behind us, Soo-jae leaned against the wall, eating chips. "You sure about this, Min?"
"No."
"Too late to back out," Soo-ah said. "I already spent an hour on your face."
I stared at my reflection. The person in the mirror wasn't me. My face was thinner, softer, the edges hidden under powder and color. My hair dyed a warm brown last night fell slightly over my forehead.
It wasn't bad. It just wasn't me.
***
By the time we reached the testing hall, I was sweating under my wig. The place was huge, white walls and security cameras, like a hotel lobby designed by people with no emotions.
A tall man with black hair introduced himelf as Lee Hyo-jin, the program supervisor. He looked like he'd eaten someone like me for breakfast.
"Welcome," she said in a flat tone. "Five stages. Only twenty participants will advance."
Her eyes skimmed over me once. I felt my spine straighten on its own.
***
Stage One: Poise.
We had to walk down a short runway while people took notes.
My heels were shaking before I even started. How does this even relate to marriagem….. OMG
"Head up," Soo-ah whispered from the side.
I took a breath, stepped forward, and managed not to trip. One girl next to me winked like this was easy. I hated her instantly.
When it was done, Hyo-jin gave a short nod. "Pass."
One down.
Stage Two: Table etiquette.
A room full of silverware I didn't understand. Forks for everything. Napkins folded like math equations.
I copied the woman beside me and prayed no one noticed.
When Hyo-jin walked past, she glanced at my plate and said, "At least you can act civilized."
"Thanks," I muttered, earning a sharp look.
She ticked something on her clipboard. "Pass."
Stage Three: Conversation test.
We had to talk about art and culture. I had no idea what either meant.
"What's your favorite painter?" one of the judges asked.
"Uh…" My brain blanked. "The one who… painted that thing with the….uh, sky?"
Silence. The woman stared at me.
"Do you mean Van Gogh?"
"Yes! Him. Love his skies."
They scribbled something. Definitely not good.
"Fail."
Stage Four: Financial knowledge.
They asked what I thought about "asset distribution in marriage contracts."
I said, "That sounds boring."
The room went dead quiet.
"Fail," someone said flatly.
Stage Five: Family introduction.
We had to pretend we were from rich families and introduce ourselves like we were at a gala.
I stood there, hands shaking. "My name is Seo… uh, Min-ah. Daughter of…"
I forgot the fake name we'd chosen, I definitely wanted to go with my real name, they didn't know me anyway. But I had already failed with my presentation skills. Soo-ah's face in the back said it all: you idiot.
"Fail," Hyo-jin said before I could finish.
***
When it was over, I sat outside the building, wig off, legs aching, air thick with disappointment.
Soo-ah dropped beside me. "You passed two. That's something."
"Yeah," I said. "It's something useless."
Soo-jae crouched down, holding out a bottle of water. "Maybe they'll call you back."
"Right. Maybe pigs will fly next."
Soo-ah leaned her head on my shoulder. "Even if you don't get in, you looked damn convincing."
I laughed quietly. "Convincing enough to ruin my dignity forever."
"Worth it," she said, smiling.
And maybe she was right. Because even if I failed, I'd still tried.