Calin stomped her foot in fury.
"Careful—your ankle—"
"I didn't sprain it!" she snapped.
There was no point keeping up appearances for this idiot. Hadi Keir wasn't worth a good lie.
Most importantly, he was married. If people started drawing conclusions, it wouldn't just tarnish her link to Shin Keir—it would stain her entire reputation. And if Calin Ricci was anything, it was spotless. Mostly.
"Don't think I don't know what you're up to," she hissed, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger at his chest like a dagger. "Instead of sniffing around other people's business, maybe worry about your own incompetence. I don't need your help. Not today, not ever. Got that?"
Hadi froze. Speechless. The elegant swan he once admired had transformed before his eyes into a furious harpy in heels.
The Calin right now matches his two-faced bitchy wife who could change her attitude faster than blinking.
Without waiting for a rebuttal, she spun on her heel and stormed off, her click-clacking stilettos performing a concerto of rage. She had an image to preserve, a future to secure, and a man to conquer.
Preferably one without a wedding ring and looked like a peacock.
---
A week later…
'Study, study, study!'
Shin Keir stared at the glowing screen of Yeri Zhi's social media page like it had personally offended him. It was the result of a casual background check—purely professional, of course. For security.
To his surprise, she had over a million followers. A million. For someone who wasn't even a public figure.
She had only twenty posts: a golden retriever with a toothy grin, two suspiciously gourmet-looking plates and what appeared to be a character from some game, and now—this—a pouty selfie with the caption: "study."
A simple word. A simple photo. Yet the comment section was an unholy mess of thirsty declarations and emoji-laced love letters.
Shin's jaw twitched.
He'd never been interested in social media. Never had a reason. But somehow, five minutes after discovering Yeri's account, he found himself opening the app store and signing up.
It was supposed to be harmless. Until—that—a minor but strange issue.
'ShinKeir' was already taken.
So was 'Shin_Keir.'
And 'Shin_Keir2.'
Even worse, there was an ominous 'ShinKeirsWife' and an outrageous 'ShinKeirDaddy.' Was this a cult?
"Are people this bored?" he muttered.
Despite rarely appearing in public, his name apparently built a successful career in the social media.
Just as he was battling with username purgatory, the office door slammed open.
"Dearest older brother, did you miss me?" Saeki Jie sang out dramatically, lingering at a cautious distance.
Last time he offered enlightenment, Shin restructured his face and bones. All because of one "obscene" video. It was so bad he couldn't even attend Elder Madam Keir's party and missed the drama.
Truly, Shin was so hard to please.
"Talk properly or get out," Shin deadpanned without sparing a glance.
Unbothered, Saeki scratched his head. "Actually... can you invest in my new project?"
The Jie family slacker was, in truth, the savvy CEO of SJ Entertainment, one of the country's largest media and talent agencies. His genius was as underestimated as his capacity to annoy people.
"Send me the documents."
"I already did a week ago! And sent a copy to Secretary Yun too. I heard you're drowning in work and also… heard rumors about a certain engagement. How's that going?"
Shin's fingers paused over the keyboard. His gaze sharpened.
"Where did you hear that?"
"Definitely not from me," said another voice.
Tristan, ever the voice of logic and reason, strolled in carrying a stack of documents. "These need your signature."
Saeki pointed at him, betrayed. "You told me it wouldn't be long until he was engaged!"
Tristan shrugged. "It was sarcasm. For someone in the entertainment industry you couldn't even read between the lines."
"But seriously, Calin Ricci isn't bad. Good looks. Good family. Perfect reputation."
Tristan scoffed. "Is that your expert evaluation as her talent agent, or did her family bribe you with treasure chest?"
"Excuse you! I always put my dear brother's best interests first!"
As they bickered, Tristan's eyes drifted toward Shin's screen. His brows shot up.
"Wait… are you following her with a verified account?"
Shin hovered over the 'Follow' button. Yeri's innocent selfie glowed like a ticking time bomb.
"Are you trying to kill her?" Tristan said bluntly.
Shin frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"You, Shin Keir—the Keir heir, the business world's demon emperor—publicly following a girl on social media? The media will explode. The netizens will dissect her life down to her kindergarten nap schedule."
"Nowadays, People care more about strangers' lives than their own," Tristan continued. "Even if you can protect her from your enemies, can you protect her from herself? From the comments? From depression? Even the strongest minds crack. And your greenhouse flower might not be ready for such scrutiny."
Shin drummed his fingers on the desk. Was it really that serious?
Saeki peeked at the profile and gasped. "So beautiful! Such symmetry! Such potential! Shin, she could rival every A-lister in the industry. Let me sign her to my company!"
"Did you even ask if she wants to be famous?" Tristan said, rolling his eyes. "Stop rewriting people's lives like a fanfiction author with a god complex. Besides, she's Shin's girlfriend."
"She's your girlfriend?" Saeki gasped, turning to Shin like he'd just witnessed an alien sighting. "You—YOU—actually—have—"
"Otherwise?" Shin said, voice cold enough to freeze a volcano. "If there's nothing, leave."
But Saeki wasn't done and immediately recovered. "Think about it! With proper grooming, styling, media training—she could outshine a hundred Calin Riccis!"
"Why are you comparing her to Calin?" Tristan asked, already exhausted.
"Because they're both related to dear older brother!"
The room went still. Shin's eyes narrowed.
"Related?" he repeated, tone cold and terrifying.
Saeki swallowed. Right, if Shin Keir has a girlfriend then Calin Ricci is definitely out of the picture.
"I mean—acquaintance! Family friend! Not related! The other's a stranger and the other your woman!"
Tristan sighed and tossed a folder at Shin. "You know what? Just create a dummy account. No one needs to know."
Even Tristan only used his own verified account to repost company news. Personal posts? Too risky. Even his comments would trend on social media.
Saeki struck a pose. "Why not hear my advise? I'm the prince of entertainment. I handled scandals and gossips with my eyes close and educate the media like their grandpa."
"Oh? Go on, Grandpa," Tristan sneered.
Saeki cleared his throat. "Option one: Shin follows a bunch of random women as camouflage. Option two: we all follow Yeri. Full distraction tactic."
Shin: "…"
Tristan: "Why not throw in Zahn Neri too?"
Saeki nodded solemnly. "Yes. Good idea!"
Tristan was truly tempted on hitting him. Even those socialites from first-tier families and well known elite celebrities couldn't get a glance from Shin Keir but then an anonymous young girl, like a dark house was suddenly given attention and followed by the four of them?
This isn't just premidatated murder but cyberbullying!
"You think the media won't notice? Even your dog gets special magazine covers!"
Saeki sulked. "Lulu is a fashion icon."
In the end, Shin created a dummy account, no blue checkmark, no fanfare. Low-key, just how he liked it.
Afterall, he don't have time and interest with things outside business.
---
Elsewhere...
At that very moment, Yeri was trudging through her first day as a part-time barista in one of her family's cafés.
"Character building," her father had said.
"Free labor," Yeri muttered, adjusting her apron.
The café was charming, picturesque, and packed with caffeine-starved humans who had no mercy.
"Double mocha caramel swirl, soy, extra shot, whipped cream, but make it low-cal!" barked a customer who looked like she hadn't blinked in a decade.
Yeri nodded, scribbled nonsense on the cup, and prayed.
She doubted this was about "learning the business." It felt more like a test of stamina and psychological endurance. A rite of passage for spoiled heiresses.
Her feet hurt. Her arms ached. Her patience was a relic of the past.
If this was her father's idea of building resilience, she was going to emerge as a battle-hardened caffeine warlord.
And yet... somewhere deep in her tired heart, Yeri Zhi had to admit—it felt kind of nice.
Sort of.
Maybe.
If you squinted.
The lunch hour crowd had just begun to trickle in when Yeri noticed a familiar face.
At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her but she has a good memory when it comes to people's faces.
Sitting at one of the corner tables was Mrs. Neri.
Yes, that Mrs. Neri.
The same woman who had been in Doctor Zahn Neri's office—the one who looked like she'd forgotten what joy or oxygen felt like.
She was physically present, but mentally? Probably somewhere in a busy traffic.
Today, Mrs. Neri wore a pastel suit that looked expensive but sat on her frame like it had given up on life halfway through being worn. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup untouched—but her expression was the same hollow blankness Yeri remembered. Like a mannequin that had wandered off from a luxury window display and found itself deep in conversation with an old woman.
Correction—being lectured by one.
The older woman across from her was all hand gestures and thinly veiled scorn. She looked like the type who ordered skim milk lattes and then complained they were too watery. Her voice was a sharp buzz that didn't quite carry across the room, but her posture radiated the energy of someone who had never been ignored in her entire life.