Page squirmed in her seat, checking her time on her phone before glancing out of the cafe's window. Her fingers twiddled each other, and her heels hadn't stopped tapping against the vinyl tiles, the fake wood not giving her the satisfaction of hearing hollow thuds. She grabbed the half-consumed cup from the table, downing the remaining drink in one gulp. The paper towel crunched against her lips, smudging her lipstick as she wiped the foam off her mouth. With a quick nod to the waiter assigned to her table, the cup flitted out of her view. It would be replaced later with a new one in case the owner of the seat opposite her showed up.

He was running late—that much Page was sure. And she understood if he didn't want to be here. She didn't want to either. She would have found an appropriate reason to shirk out of this date...or the hundred others her grandfather arranged for her. Not that she hated the old man, but he was probably growing too old and gaining too much time on his hands. After relegating most of the entrepreneurial and decision-making work to his two sons—one of which was Page's father—Grandpa has been frequenting golf courses and playing with the other younger grandchildren. Just to placate the aging man, her parents suggested he try another hobby—finding eligible partners for all his grandchildren. And with Page being the oldest of the bunch, she had been the first blood drawn.

She could have made excuses or said she wasn't really interested in marrying or dating. Her degree enabled her to run a subsidiary or serve in the board of directors of the conglomerate, not engage snotty heirs of other conglomerate families in conversations about their summer activities which included wasting money they didn't work for. But her parents pulled her aside and stressed the importance of establishing partnerships with other powerful conglomerates, and they could only do it by making them part of the registry. "Just one," her mother clearly said before the arranged dates started. "After that, you can do whatever you want."

Of course, Page knew what that "one" meant, and she couldn't say it to her mother's face that that was the last thing she wanted to do with her life. Having a partner was hard enough. Starting a family would be even harder. It would interfere with her goals and dreams. She couldn't let that happen. There was more to life than having children.

Not that having children was bad. She wasn't just built for it. And with how horrible her previous dates have been, perhaps she wasn't built for a partner either.

"Just humor your grandfather," her father told her after the first date that went badly. "We needed to give him a new job that still indirectly involved the group and something that wasn't tiring."

At Page's expense, of course. She understood the motivation, but she couldn't see why she was dragged into the adults' shenanigans with her time, energy, and resources in tow. Not only was she taking a cut on her supposed day-offs, sometimes, she had to move her schedule around just to fit the set hours into it. The number of high-priority meetings she had to pass up this week alone was bordering on unacceptable.

By the third date, she was more than pissed off and wanted to have nothing to do with this madness. Her father put his foot down and claimed he'd cut off her inheritance if she made her grandfather unhappy. What a petty move, but once her father made up his mind, he'd set it in motion. She didn't want to lose a large sum of money or cost her relationship with both her father and grandfather, so onwards the dates went.

Now, she was on the fifty-first date, and the guy was running awfully late. She ducked her head when the waiter brought another steaming cup to her table. This was her fourth cup. If he didn't show up until this turned cold, she'd have to call it a day. Enough time has been wasted, and she was supposed to compile the quarterly report before the end of the day.

She chewed on her lip, tapping her manicured nail against the table's edge. The white lacquer shone against the dark brown varnish. Her white pencil skirt and white blazer almost blended with the khaki cushion she sat on, though. Would he find that irritating?

A nagging thought slapped her brain from the side. Why would she worry about her appearance when she has a bigger problem to mind? If this went sideways, this would be the fifty-first time she would be called a witch, a shaman, or downright a demon. She hoped the guy was at least graceful enough to let this one go in an amicable manner. It wasn't her who rejected all those suitors. Her reputation in the business and dating field had been peppered with refusals from the other party. Most of them must have heard there was something wrong with her, and that was indeed the case.

Before she left the building for the date earlier, her mother dropped by and pleaded with her to stop ruining the dates set up for her. It wasn't her fault, though. If she could find a way to stop it from happening, she would have. But even the most mystic shaman offered no alternative other than a packet of potpourri that was surely lifted from the nearby grocery store.

The cafe doors dinged, and a man close to her age sauntered by. Her grandfather must be getting desperate and running out of ideas to have started fishing from the adjacent pool. Page observed him as he scanned the cafe for her. They knew what each other looked like, but for some reason, seeing him in person was more pleasant. More...

She shook her head, slapping her cheek weakly. Get a grip. She couldn't afford to feel anything more than a slight passivity and nonchalance. Never get worked up. Never look him in the eye to avoid being bashful. Just...never feel anything, and things would be smooth-sailing. At least, that was the plan.

The man found her, recognition glinting in his eyes. Page averted her gaze to the bustle of pedestrians and cars outside, keeping him in her periphery as he sat down. "Sorry I'm late," he said, folding his hands together. "The meeting ran late."

Ah, should she have gone to one earlier then? Nobody told her others could do it to her but she couldn't to them. Whatever. She tamped the annoyance deep, deep down, smiling at her date. It didn't reach her eyes, but she didn't need it to. She just has to prove to her parents that she was trying, and with one successful date, she could set her grandfather at ease. She'd just find a way to get him to turn down the engagement if it came to that.

But, first things first. The date.

"I'm glad we can still meet like this," Page replied, taking the coffee cup from its saucer and taking a sip. The bitter drink was cold. Ugh. "What are your...ah, interests?"

The man blinked. "Are we not introducing ourselves first?"

Page scoffed, setting the cup down with a sharp clink. "Dear, we are supposed to be engaged at the end of the day if all things went well," she said. "Are you going to spend the rest of your married life not knowing your wife's name?"

He looked down, clearly embarrassed. Of course, Page knew everything about this...boy. Dara, the poised, third-generation heir of the FKG Group. Graduated at the top business university abroad, hailed as the Top 1 Most Influential Entrepreneurs Under 30 list a few years back, and voted 3rd place on the Top 100 Handsome Faces of All Time just last year. She did her research, and if he did the other way around, he'd find almost the same achievements...and more.

But she couldn't deny the last list made sense. Dara was a genetic wonder, combining the wit and charm from generations of CEOs, supermodels, celebrities, and entrepreneurs. He could have been from a noble family during the country's monarchy era, and Page would have believed it.

She must have been staring too long because he smiled when he caught her. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she averted her eyes. Then, panic settled in her nerves. No, no, no. Tone that down—

A flicker of white and purple fluttered into her periphery. She whirled back to Dara to find him sitting rigidly uptight. She opened her mouth, her words already pre-conditioned. "I'm sorr—"

The words barely left her mouth before Dara's eyes rolled back into his head. He passed out, and a butterfly landed on the tip of his nose.