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The press cameras flashed as Beomgyu and Yeonjun were ushered onto the stage, the weight of the cameras, the smiles, the glitz, and the glamour all coming at them too fast.

"Look like you're in love," an assistant whispered urgently as they were placed side by side in front of an array of flashing lights and reporters.

Beomgyu's throat tightened. His instincts screamed at him to lash out, to refuse, but he knew it wasn't an option. Not here. Not in front of this many eyes. He forced his expression into something neutral, trying to push down the boiling anger churning inside him.

Beside him, Yeonjun stood still, his eyes scanning the room with the detached calm of someone who had long ago learned to wear a mask. But even he couldn't ignore the reality crashing down on him.

"Smile," one of the photographers barked.

Yeonjun's lips tugged into a practiced grin, one that looked effortless to anyone watching, but inside, his mind was spinning. This isn't just a marriage, he thought bitterly. This is a political move. A game of power, control, and territory.

He turned his gaze toward Beomgyu, the other man's icy expression only adding to the tension. They were complete opposites in so many ways, yet here they were, being told to act like they were the perfect couple. Is this what my family wants?

Yeonjun's thoughts flickered to his father—the man who had spent years grooming him for something far darker than Yeonjun had ever imagined. Becoming Beomgyu's husband wasn't just a marriage; it was a power play. An assassin's bloodline tied to the mafia throne.

If Yeonjun and Beomgyu's marriage went through, the Yeonjun family would finally become the top family in Seoul, surpassing the rest. No one would dare challenge them. It would be the ultimate move in a game he didn't even realize he'd been playing.

They're selling me, Yeonjun thought as he glanced at Beomgyu again. My family is selling me to the mafia.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He wasn't just becoming Beomgyu's husband—he was becoming his weapon. The assassin family was looking to secure their place at the top of the mafia hierarchy by merging with the most powerful family in Seoul. And Beomgyu was the key to that.

As they posed for more photos, Yeonjun's expression faltered for just a moment, his mask slipping ever so slightly. Beomgyu noticed the crack, the flicker of vulnerability in Yeonjun's gaze, but before he could even react, the photographers were pushing them again.

"Hold hands!" one shouted.

They exchanged a brief glance, both knowing what was expected of them. Beomgyu hesitated but then reached out, his fingers brushing against Yeonjun's. The touch felt foreign, even unnatural, but Yeonjun didn't pull away.

This is what I'm meant for, Yeonjun thought as he squeezed Beomgyu's hand, though the gesture felt hollow. A pawn in their game. Nothing more.

Beomgyu's jaw clenched, but he held up his end of the performance, offering a tight smile to the cameras. Inside, though, his heart was a storm of conflicting emotions. The anger at being forced into this, the betrayal he felt from his family, the disgust at the idea of having to pretend to love a stranger.

When the photoshoot ended, they were quickly ushered into a limo. The press had their fill, and now the real part of the game began.

Beomgyu leaned back against the leather seat, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake the feeling of being trapped. Yeonjun sat across from him, his eyes steely, unreadable, as the limo sped through the streets of Seoul.

Neither of them said a word.

The silence was unbearable, thick with the weight of what had just transpired—and what was to come.

"You didn't know about this, did you?" Yeonjun asked quietly, his voice low and almost dangerous.

Beomgyu's head snapped to him, his brow furrowing. "No," he answered sharply. "I didn't. And I don't appreciate being forced into a marriage I didn't even have a say in."

Yeonjun's lips curled into a slight smirk, but there was no humor in it. "Trust me," he said, his tone almost bitter. "I'm not thrilled either. But this is bigger than both of us. Your family isn't just marrying me into theirs—they're making sure I'm tied to them. And it's the same for my family."

Beomgyu's eyes darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. So that's it. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Yeonjun wasn't just being sold to him. His family had planned this. They had known all along.

"This is a power play," Beomgyu muttered, almost to himself. "Your family... they want to be the best assassin family in Seoul."

Yeonjun gave a small, cynical laugh. "Well, isn't that the point?"

Beomgyu didn't reply. Instead, his mind raced. He was the next in line to lead his family—the mafia throne was within his grasp. But now he realized it came with strings attached. Yeonjun was no longer just his forced husband; he was a pawn in a deadly game, just like Beomgyu.

And neither of them had any choice but to play.

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