Evan was standing in a church—
in a well-fitted tuxedo—
watching Lauren walk toward him in a pure-white wedding dress.
The priest smiled warmly.
"Lauren, do you take this man as your husband?
To love him, care for him, respect him, and remain faithful to him until the end of life?"
Lauren lifted her chin and said clearly—
"I do NOT."
What?!
Evan lunged toward her like a deranged beast.
"WHY?! Lauren, WHY—"
BANG.
He fell off the bed.
He sat up groggily, rubbing the throbbing bump on his forehead, staring at the elegant chandelier above him.
Where…
am I?
Who am I?
Evan Chen.
Where am I?
Unknown.
What am I doing?
Also unknown.
The three great philosophical questions of mankind.
He could only answer the first.
"I was… dreaming?" he muttered.
In the dream, he and Lauren were getting married.
The priest asked if she would marry him.
She said no.
Definitely a dream—
because in real life, he had never even gotten close to marrying Lauren.
Which meant… the fall from the bed was also part of the dream?
Because this room—
with its luxurious interior, lush carpet, soft bedding, and antique chandelier—
was absolutely not something he could afford.
Not rent.
Not even dream-rent.
"This has to be a dream…" he whispered.
"Awake?" a bright female voice suddenly rang out.
Evan turned—and immediately saw two impossibly long, pale legs standing beside the bed.
He jumped up in shock.
The woman wore a white lounge set and a Peking Opera facial sheet mask, turning her into a living artwork—
a terrifying one.
Evan's first reflex was to check his clothes.
Last night he wore jeans and a white T-shirt to karaoke.
Now he was in… plaid pajamas he'd never seen before.
He paled instantly.
"You… you changed my clothes?" he stammered, clutching the blanket around himself.
His voice trembled with accusation.
"How could you do this? To a guy you barely know?!"
The masked woman stared at him, stunned.
Then her voice shot up an octave:
"What did I do?! WHAT exactly did I do?!"
Then she remembered sheet masks cracked when one got angry.
She forcibly calmed herself and patted her face gently to "prevent wrinkles."
Evan sniffed indignantly.
"You brought me to a strange place… changed my clothes… who knows what else you did?! I'm not that kind of guy!"
"That kind of guy?"
The woman tore off her opera mask with a dramatic slap, droplets flying everywhere.
Her face—delicate features, porcelain skin, breathtakingly symmetrical—was fully revealed.
She pointed at him.
"You were PASS-OUT DRUNK. I carried you home. HOW is that wrong?!"
"Even if I were drunk, you can't just take advantage of a helpless man!" Evan argued.
"You could've left me on the sidewalk! Or dumped me on my friends! But taking me home— changing my clothes—"
Mid-sentence, he froze.
Because now that the mask was gone, he finally saw her face properly.
The long legs.
The perfect skin.
The ridiculous beauty.
"…You're too pretty to do such… terrible things," he whispered.
Kora Keene—superstar of the nation—
nearly fainted from rage.
Her blood pressure soared.
She clenched her fists.
Then suddenly—she smiled.
A dangerous smile.
"Fine," she purred, leaning forward.
"Sure. Let's say I did everything you think I did.
What are you going to do about it?"
Evan's eyes widened in horror.
Lightning struck his soul.
He dove under the blanket.
"I can never show my face again…"
Kora's eye twitched.
She stared at the wriggling blanket monster with pure murder.
"Where's my phone?" Evan peeked out.
She tossed him an old, paint-chipped phone.
He stared.
"This is… Lauren's old phone."
"Why am I thinking about Lauren again?!" he scolded himself internally.
He checked his messages.
Tom and Liam had each called multiple times.
"One of your friends called," Kora said casually.
"You answered?" Evan snapped.
"Yeah." She shrugged. "He kept calling. I got annoyed."
"…What did you say?"
"That I dragged you home." She sipped water. "Then I hung up."
Evan pressed his hands to his face.
"My reputation… it's gone…"
---
When he finally reached the living room, Evan froze.
The place was massive—
sunlit, minimalist, and cost at least several million dollars.
This wasn't a home.
It was a magazine cover.
Kora was eating breakfast:
half a boiled egg, skim milk, and a plate of saltless boiled greens.
To Evan, this looked like punishment.
He sat down across from her.
Very seriously, he declared:
"I forgive you."
PFFFFTTT—
Kora sprayed milk all over the table.
She wiped her mouth, trembling with fury.
"You FORGIVE me? What did I do wrong?!"
"I checked," Evan said shyly.
"You didn't… do anything to me.
So I forgive you for taking me home without permission."
Kora inhaled sharply.
"And changing my clothes," Evan added.
Silence.
Then, timidly:
"…Where are my clothes?"
"I washed them," she replied.
"You WHAT?" Evan stood up.
"What am I supposed to wear?!"
"That's your problem."
"Hey—HEY— don't be unreasonable!"
Kora rose slowly, like a predator.
"Tell me again," she said coldly.
"Who is unreasonable?"
Evan shrank back into his chair.
"…I don't want to fight. Is that egg mine?"
Kora ignored him.
His stomach growled loudly.
He grabbed a fork and dug in.
"This egg is actually pretty good."
Kora studied him for a moment.
"Where did that triangle scar on your forehead come from?"
"Dog bite," Evan said while chewing.
She blinked.
"That must've hurt a lot."
"Eh. Childhood thing. I forgot."
A door opened.
A chubby middle-aged woman entered, pulling a grocery cart.
"Good morning, Kora dear! You're up early," she said.
"Morning, Aunt Lin. Didn't I tell you to come later?"
"I thought I'd come cook breakfast. But looks like you already fed him."
She smiled warmly at Evan. "Young man, your clothes are washed and dried. They're on the balcony."
"Thank you, Auntie."
He hesitated.
"Uh… did YOU change my clothes?"
"Of course!" Aunt Lin beamed.
"You were covered in vomit! Kora brought you back completely soaked!
She asked me to toss you in the bathtub and scrub you from head to toe."
Evan stiffened.
Scrubbed.
By a stranger auntie.
He suddenly wanted to break up with himself again.
Aunt Lin headed off to clean.
Kora leaned over, smiling devilishly.
"Now that you know the truth," she purred,
"aren't you going to apologize?
I didn't undress you.
I didn't 'do anything' to you.
The only person who touched you… was Aunt Lin."
Evan whispered, shattered,
"…I didn't expect the truth to be even crueler than my imagination."
Kora folded her arms.
"Why'd you drink so much last night?"
"Friend's birthday," Evan lied.
He didn't want her to know he'd been dumped.
"Thanks for letting me crash here."
He grabbed his cleaned clothes, changed, and waved politely.
"Maybe we'll meet again."
"You can't leave