Butler Kim handed me out of the car, and my first thought was a very eloquent, internal: Oh.
I'd thought the Law Manor was a statement. A cold, sharp statement carved in white marble that screamed "you don't belong here."
The Han Manor didn't scream.
It simply was.
It was an expanse of traditional Korean architecture meets impossible modern luxury, a low-slung, powerful silhouette of dark wood and sweeping slate roofs that seemed to grow out of the manicured hillside itself.
It wasn't just a house; it was a territory.
Lanterns glowed with a warm, intimidating light along the stone pathway, and the sheer scale of it made the silent night feel heavier, like the air itself was expensive.
For a second, I just stared, the fangirl in me utterly vaporized by the sheer, tangible weight of history and money. This wasn't a set. This was a dynasty.
'Okay, Austra. Breathe. You knew they were rich. This is just…way more than you expected.'
I smoothed my hands down the violet silk of my dress, a familiar anchor in the face of the unfamiliar fortress.
Right. I wasn't here to gawk.
I was here to negotiate a future from inside the belly of the beast.
"Shall we, Young Miss?" Butler Kim's voice was a quiet anchor beside me.
"Yeah," I said, my voice thankfully steady. "Let's go see what a billion won of landscaping looks like up close."
With one last steadying breath that did absolutely nothing, I lifted my chin, ignored the frantic flutter in my stomach, and walked toward the towering wooden gates that were already swinging open, as if the house itself had been expecting me.
Butler Kim and I crossed the threshold. The air inside was different—cool, faintly scented with lemon polish and something woody and expensive. It was the smell of quiet, formidable power.
Another butler, almost a mirror image of Butler Kim in his impeccable suit and unreadable expression, stood waiting in the vast, silent foyer. He bowed deeply.
"Miss Law. I trust your journey was comfortable."
"Thank you, it was," I replied, my voice measured.
He gave a slight, familiar nod to Butler Kim. "Mr. Park."
Butler Kim returned the nod. "Mr. Shin."
"The families are gathered in the main dining hall," Mr. Shin informed me, his hands clasped behind his back. "Your parents, as well as the Chairman and Madam Han, have already arrived. The Young Master has been delayed but is expected shortly."
"I understand," I said, and with a final glance at Butler Kim, who would wait in the designated staff area, I followed Mr. Shin further into the heart of the manor.
The interior was a breathtaking, intimidating blend. Soaring modern ceilings were held up by dark, traditional wooden beams.
Slate floors were warmed by exquisite, ancient-looking Korean ondol heating.
It was a palace that respected its roots while showcasing its empire.
I didn't have the mental space for awe. I filed it away—power, history, control—and kept walking.
We stopped before a set of towering double doors. Mr. Shin pushed one open silently and stepped aside.
The room was less a dining hall and more a tribunal.
A long, obsidian-black table dominated the space.
And around it, the jury.
My eyes went first to my own "parents."
Chairman and Madam Law sat on the left side, looking as cold and polished as their portraits.
Next to them, on the right side of the table's head, were the people I'd seen a hundred times on my screen but never in the flesh: Chairman Han, a man with an imposing presence and a stern face framed by salt-and-pepper hair, and his wife, Madam Han, elegant and sharp-eyed.
Then, my gaze snagged on a younger face.
A girl, probably still in her late teens, dressed in a chic but playful dress, sitting one seat down from Madam Han.
Han Soo-jin. Han Eun Woo's half-sister. The fangirl within the story. She was watching everything with wide, curious eyes.
And beside her, a man whose face made my guard snap up instantly.
Director Park. The managing CFO of Han Group. Han Eun Woo's uncle and the show's corporate antagonist. His smile was all polite venom.
"Ah, Austra. Finally." My mother's voice cut through the quiet, a performance of warmth. "Come, greet everyone properly."
I moved forward, a polite smile fixed on my face. It felt like walking onto a stage for a play where I only knew my own lines.
"Chairman Han, Madam Han, it's an honor. Director Park. And you must be Soo-jin," I said, nodding to the girl, who gave a shy, quick smile.
"Our son is finishing urgent business. He will join us shortly," Chairman Han stated, his voice leaving no room for discussion. "We may begin."
I took the empty seat they indicated, directly across from my parents and next to an empty chair presumably for Eun Woo.
A servant immediately placed a glass of water beside me. I took a small, steadying sip.
'Wait. I think I remember this dinner from the drama, too.'
The memory clicked—a tense scene where the original Austra had simpered and the parents had negotiated dowries like stock options. But something was off.
In that scene, Eun Woo hadn't arrived alone, cold and contemptuous.
'Wait, didn't the CEO actually bring...'
The thought barely had time to form before the doors opened again.
All heads turned.
Han Eun Woo stood there, his expression its usual mask of unflappable control. And half a step behind him, dressed in a simple but elegant navy dress, her hair down and softened, was Lee Yoon-ah.
The air in the room didn't just change; it crystallized.
"My apologies for the delay. Unavoidable business," Eun Woo said, his voice cutting the silence. He didn't wait for a response. His eyes scanned the table, landing on the empty seat beside me. "Secretary Lee, sit here. You'll be taking notes."
He gestured to the chair next to mine.
For a single, suspended second, the entire Han and Law families just stared.
Chairman Han's brows drew together.
Madam Law's smile froze. Director Park's eyes glittered with sudden, keen interest. Little Soo-jin looked like she was trying not to combust with excitement.
Lee Yoon-ah, her professional mask firmly in place but her eyes wide with barely-concealed panic, gave a stiff bow. "Yes, Sir."
And then she was walking toward me, the click of her heels the only sound in the stunned room, to take the seat right at my side.
The silence that followed Secretary Lee taking the seat beside me was so profound I could hear the ice shifting in my water glass.
Chairman Han was the first to speak. His voice wasn't angry. It was… perplexed. The perplexity of a master strategist seeing an unexpected, illogical piece on his chessboard. "Eun Woo. Why is your secretary at our family table?"
All eyes swung to the CEO. He didn't flinch. He took his own seat at the head of the table, opposite his father, his movements unnervingly calm.
"There are merger documents that require final review tonight. It is inefficient for her to wait elsewhere when her input will be required immediately after this concludes," he stated, his tone devoid of any emotion beyond pure pragmatism.
He picked up his napkin, laying it across his lap as if he'd just explained the weather.
He then looked up, his cool grey eyes scanning the table before landing—not on his father, but on me.
"Also," he continued, the word dropping into the tense air. "Since we are all… getting to know each other today," he said, the phrase sounding alien in his mouth, "I thought it would be beneficial for my fiancée to become acquainted with my executive secretary."
His gaze held mine. I felt like a bug under a microscope. What is he doing?
"Considering her expressed… interest in a position within Han Group," he went on, each word deliberate, "understanding the key personnel and the flow of executive support would be a logical first step. Don't you think, Austra?"
He'd thrown the ball directly into my court, in front of everyone. It was a test. A bizarre, icy, public test.
I felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. My parents looked suspicious. Madam Han's expression was one of mild, curious scrutiny. Chairman Han watched, waiting to see how I'd handle his son's unorthodox move.
I forced a smile, one I hoped looked more graceful than panicked.
"Of course," I said, my voice thankfully steady. I turned slightly toward Lee Yoon-ah, who looked as if she wished the floor would swallow her whole.
"It's a pleasure to… officially meet in a more relaxed setting, Secretary Lee. I'm sure I have much to learn."
The words tasted like ash. Relaxed setting.
This was a psychological trench war.
But I'd played along. I'd accepted his bizarre, logical framing.
I saw a flicker in Eun Woo's eyes—not warmth, but something like… acknowledgment.
A point scored in a game only he seemed to understand the rules of.
"Good," he said, the single word closing the subject.
He turned his attention to the first course being presented, as if he'd just arranged a simple business introduction and not dropped a live grenade of social awkwardness into the middle of a high-stakes family merger dinner.
The waiters glided in like silent, impeccably trained ghosts, presenting the main courses with a quiet ceremony.
Plates of artfully arranged, exquisitely fragrant food were placed before each of us—a feast that felt more like a test.
"Please, help yourselves," Madam Han said, her voice the epitome of graceful, traditional hosting.
The woman of the house had spoken, and the ritual began.
Forks and chopsticks clicked softly against fine china, but the silence was thicker than the richest sauce.
My mother, Madam Law, was the first to try and lance the tension.
She dabbed her lips with a napkin, her smile bright and brittle. "So, CEO Han," she began, her voice sweetly pointed.
"I heard you and our Austra have already… settled in? How are you finding the new residence?"
All motion at the table subtly stilled. Eun Woo finished his careful bite, set his chopsticks down, and finally looked up. His gaze swept past my mother and landed on me, cool and assessing.
"It is adequate," he stated, his voice flat. Then he added, the words dropping like stones, "But it seemed your daughter was not fully informed we would be cohabiting."
The unspoken words—the little accident—hung in the air between us, as palpable as the scent of grilled hanwoo.
My mother's laugh was a tinkling, practiced sound. "Oh, you know our Austra! When she heard the marriage was finally proceeding, she was so overjoyed she simply flew out the door before we could explain all the… details."
She waved a dismissive hand, painting me as the lovestruck, impulsive fool. "I hope it didn't cause any… inconvenience?"
Eun Woo's eyes didn't leave me. "Is that so."
I couldn't let that narrative stand. "Of course there was no problem, Mom," I interjected, my voice firmer than I felt.
I picked up a delicate piece of braised short rib with my serving chopsticks and placed it on her plate with a pointed smile. "Please, have some more. It's delicious."
The diversion worked, if only for a second.
From further down the table, Director Park seized the opening.
His smile was a slick, professional thing. "Speaking of details, I hear we are to gain a new, bright mind at Han Group," he said, his eyes fixed on me like a collector spotting a curious new piece.
"Austra, if you are serious about joining us, you must come by the Department Stores tomorrow. I would be glad to give you a personal tour. My daughter is around your age, you know. I should introduce you. She could help you… acclimate."
The offer was a trap wrapped in silk. An invitation from the corporate snake into his den.
I met his gaze and mirrored his smile, all polite edges. "That's very kind of you, Director Park. I would be glad to."
Before the false pleasantries could spiral further, a heavy clink sounded at the head of the table.
Chairman Han had set his chopsticks down with deliberate finality on the exquisite jade rest. The simple action commanded the room more effectively than a shout.
"Now," he said, his voice a low, authoritative rumble that swept away the thin veneer of small talk. "Let us discuss the purpose of this gathering. The marriage of our families.
All pretense of a meal vanished. The tension didn't just return; it snapped taut, a wire ready to sing.
I glanced to my left, where Secretary Lee had become a statue, her eyes fixed on her untouched plate.
To my right, Han Soo-jin had stopped picking at her food, her young face alight with the drama of it all.
My parents straightened, their expressions shifting to ones of razor-sharp focus.
Eun Woo's gaze was locked on his father, a silent challenger across the polished wood.
The dinner was over. The negotiation had begun.