You Wouldn't Get Any Ideas

"It's not something to laugh about. I'm being serious. Last week my father called me in and asked me, completely seriously."

"He asked you if you like men?"

"...Yeah."

"Your dad—ah, right. That's... rough. You must've been shocked—no, wait, that must've been... awkward..."

"Hey. Take your hand off your mouth."

"......"

"I told you to just laugh out loud."

I laughed so hard I nearly choked on it, swallowing the sound down my throat until tears sprang to my eyes.

I'd heard the rumors about Kang Sa-eon plenty of times myself. It wasn't as if I was being ostracized for having no friends. I made small talk well enough with people around the office. And among the employees, the hottest topic by far was the real-time whereabouts of the third-generation chaebol heir. When a handsome, tall, capable chaebol scion existed in real life, who needed to watch dramas?

Who he'd met yesterday. Why he'd been angry today. They couldn't post any of it on the company board for fear of leaking private information, so they gossiped about it in secret instead.

That he went on a lot of arranged dates but the partners kept changing. That he was actually hiding a long-term girlfriend. That he was gay—I'd heard all of those. Curiosity was stubborn and endlessly creative. It almost seemed like they wanted to find some flaw, any flaw, to drag him down.

There were times I wanted to tell them about the Kang Sa-eon I knew, to defend him—but I always held back, because anything I said in his defense would probably sound even worse than the rumors. And well, that was fair enough. Even to me, his actual friend, Kang Sa-eon was a piece of shit.

If it weren't for this unrequited crush, I'd have cut him off a long time ago.

"So, a fake relationship? That's what you're proposing? With me? There's no one else?"

"You're the only friend I have."

"...Well, yeah. I guess your options were pretty limited..."

I knew perfectly well he had no friends. It wasn't exactly a coveted position. Not many people would have wanted to occupy that impoverished throne.

And then, suddenly, it all clicked into place. The need to publicly prove he wasn't gay, and me—his only friend of the opposite sex, the only person whose touch didn't make his skin crawl. It was a solution that fit together almost too neatly. That was why he'd summoned me to the conspicuously visible director's office—me, the person he wouldn't even acknowledge existed inside the company, not even if it killed him.

"And you, of all people, wouldn't get any ideas."

"What's that supposed to mean? Should I be offended?"

"No, I don't mean it in a bad way. I mean you wouldn't delude yourself into thinking this could turn into marriage, or an actual relationship."

I laughed before I could stop myself. But in a way, he was exactly right. I would never, not even if it killed me, get any ideas.

I'd wanted him to love me for so long—so long, and so desperately—that I couldn't even indulge in the kind of fantasy I already knew was fake. I'd given that up ages ago. I was too exhausted even to weigh the possibility anymore.

"How much are you paying?"

"Right. I figured you'd turn me down."

"I asked how much you're paying."

"What? You'll do it?"

"You've never asked me for a single thing in your entire life."

I smiled at him, doing my best impression of a loyal friend. It must have been fairly convincing, because Kang Sa-eon made the dumbest face I'd ever seen on him.

"It's our princess's first-ever request. Least I can do is grant it, right?"

"...Are you serious?"

"Why so serious? We tell a few lies, I make some money. What's not to like?"

Or was this going to leave a mark on my family register, I asked. He recoiled in horror.

"A mark? What's going to be left? Nothing! Nothing at all!"

"Hey, you're the one asking for a favor. Don't raise your voice at me."

"...Sign the contract. Before you change your mind."

Given the kind of family Kang Sa-eon came from, this wasn't going to be as simple a role as it sounded. Thorough as always, he held out a tablet with a contract already pulled up. I went through the terms carefully.

"Duration: six months..."

The compensation for six months of a public relationship was a staggering five hundred million won. Even a dumpster fire of a marriage rarely yielded more than twenty million in alimony. By that measure, this was an extremely generous payout. He certainly didn't do things by halves. This amount was the price Kang Sa-eon had assigned to my honor. I liked that.

Looking at the number, I found even less reason to refuse. I hummed to myself as I finished reading the contract.

"Keep it secret for life?"

"If you can't do it, back out now."

"Why do you act so high and mighty when you're the one asking for a favor?"

Judging by his attitude, you'd think he was the one doing me a favor.

Kang Sa-eon crossed his arms and scowled fiercely. The way he glared at me, it was as if he was disappointed I'd actually agreed. Forget thanking me for the loyalty of granting a request he'd barely managed to make—he was shameless beyond belief.

He waited until I'd finished reading the contract, and the moment I signed with a flourish, he made no effort to hide his displeasure.

"Is money that important to you?"

"Five hundred million for six months. That's a sweet-ass deal. That's after tax, right?"

"You can cover the gift tax, at least."

"Come on. Just include everything. Keep it clean."

"It's not like you don't have money... Fine. I'll rewrite it so you get the full amount after the accountant's calculations."

"I've already signed, but... what exactly do I have to do?"

"...Don't go around signing things so carelessly."

"You're supposed to try everything while you're young, right?"

"Experience, sure. Getting scammed and ending up on the street counts as experience too."

"You really do have a way with words, our princess."

"I told you not to call me princess."

"As the princess is a princess, so did I call the princess a princess, yet the princess bids me not call the princess a princess, and thus I cannot call the princess a princess and know not what I am to call—"

Kang Sa-eon's palm slammed over my mouth, his eyes flashing a warning.

"I said don't."

"Mmmpf."

Did he even realize my lips were touching his palm? I smiled at him, eyes curving with shameless amusement, while privately debating whether to stick out my tongue and taste his skin. But if I pushed him any further, this might actually be the time he cut me off for good. So I held back.

"Are you going to be quiet?"

I nodded. Kang Sa-eon slowly pulled his hand away.

"I'll handle the rest. You just pick up when I call. And come when I tell you to."

That was something I'd been doing all along, even without the five hundred million.

I didn't say that out loud. Even if it was true, it was a pretty humiliating thing to admit. The fact that I had no spine whatsoever was true enough—but saying it with my own mouth was a different matter entirely.

"That's it?"

"We might have to do some physical stuff in front of people, occasionally."

A delicate crease formed across the bridge of Kang Sa-eon's nose. His gaze brushed over the back of my hand, then flicked away. I could guess well enough what image had just flashed through his mind. It made me feel spiteful. That expression wasn't one of concern for me, that was for sure.

"For example?"

"Holding hands, or linking arms..."

"Come on. Even middle schoolers do that these days."

Kindergarteners did that much.

But germaphobic Kang Sa-eon—Kang Sa-eon, who suffered from misanthropy and gynophobia—scowled as if even that was too much to bear. This, from the man who'd just covered my mouth with that same hand.

I deliberately leaned my face in closer.

"We'll have to kiss, at least. On the cheek... or near the lips."

"...Depending on the situation."

What was I supposed to do with this high-and-mighty princess? Anyone watching would think I was the one begging him to play along.

Kang Sa-eon had scooted his hips all the way to the far end of the single-seater sofa, trying to get away from me, his upper body reclined as if he were lying down. I'd been meaning to tease him, and now I was practically looming over him, both hands planted on the armrests.

If he'd really hated it, he would have shoved me off already. But Kang Sa-eon, though his brow was furrowed, endured it. How admirable. How touching. He'd decided not to push away the only relief pitcher who could get him out of this crisis.

This was an opportunity.

I caught Kang Sa-eon's chin and pressed my lips to his cheek. He registered what had happened a beat too late and shoved my shoulder hard, and I burst out laughing all over again.

"Are you insane?"

"Just a rehearsal. So you don't get nervous when it's the real thing."

"Who's nervous?! How many times do I have to tell you I hate this?"

The features that usually projected such a cold, blunt impression had come undone, forming an expression I'd never seen before. His face—once smaller and thinner at fifteen, now sun-touched but still on the pale side—was flushed a red I'd never seen on him. Embarrassment, irritation, anger and endurance, maybe even shame, all mixed together. But there was no disgust.

That alone was enough for me.

I knew it was a pit of fire, and still, if he called, I'd throw myself in with an armful of kindling. I could barely stand how much I looked forward to a future where nothing would be left of me but ash.

Because once I was ash—then, finally—I'd be able to leave you.