1 Origin

A phone went off noisily. The person in bed moaned, annoyed. Clicking her tongue. Turning onto her side to blindly snatch it off the bedside table. Outside wasn't fully nighttime. Stars were yet to make their appearance, threading around the moon. Street lights had flicked on during the time they'd slept. Evening was at a good standstill.

Drowsily forcing her eyes open to take a peek at the time. Groaning this time Namjoo pulled herself up. Pressing a hand against her eyes to clear her blurry vision. Also hoping the seconds would slow down because she didn't want to get up from her warm area. Then looking at the time on her phone again.

More annoyed now, she kicked her legs over the side of the bed and slipped from out of the sheets. Using the full moonlight shining into the hotel room through the windows. After arriving they hadn't bothered with the curtains. As if anyone would want to watch their show all the way on the 12th floor.

Kicking the clothes on the ground she found her way to the bathroom. Flinching when the lights flicked on too brightly. Jumping into the shower she quickly washed up. Slipped into her dress and worked on some quick makeup just the way she learned how to after a quick hour of bed routine.

"You're leaving?" A male voice tiredly asked from the bed when she turned the bathroom lights off.

"I have to," Namjoo replied picking up a sock from the ground, observed it in the moonlight and deducted it wasn't hers. Tossing it on the ground she picked up her shirt and her pair of high waisted pants. Threw those into her small tote. Zipped it up and sat on the bed to put her heels on.

"You'll call me?" he asked wrapping an arm around her. Burying his face into her long hair he breathed into the v-cut of her back.

"Yea." Namjoo fumbled with the strap of her heel then straightened to touch her cheek to his bristly hair. Giving the roof of his head a peck, "I'll call you."

"Have fun." Lifting his head up he gave her a kiss before dropping back onto the bed and rolling over, so he didn't have to watch her leave. Like always.

Closing the door after her Namjoo strutted toward the elevator.

Lee Jinho was her boyfriend of a year. Story short, she recently met him when he lost his dog near a campsite she was visiting with her fiancé's family. Handsome at first sight with a crew cut. Long legs in nice fitting jeans and a white t-shirt to match. Turned out he was as attracted to her, so he had asked for her number before they split.

She knew his mother was ill in the hospital. His father worked on a boat, so he fared for his younger siblings. Cooking, feeding, waking, and sending them to school. Going to work and coming back home to cook, feed, and made sure they did their assignments before bedtime. His life was grueling, but he rarely complained. Relishing in that small glint of hope that better days were ahead. She was that hope amidst a dark world. Contrary to his ill-fated life, she came from a conglomerate family that made a net worth of more than a billion a year. And she let him think she was a normal working woman who commuted by bus every day to work.

Kim Namjoo might be a bitch, but she had a soft heart for Lee Jinho who also thought she was attending a friend's birthday bash.

Because really, that was not where she was headed.

Dumping her tote into the trunk along with her pair of sneakers, she slammed it shut. Pressing the remote to unlock her Jaguar she slid behind the wheel, revved the engine, and started down the lone street. Rolling down the top as night engulfed her to let her hair fly free she sped all the way to Four Seasons Hotel.

The lot was overloaded with foreign to luxury vehicles. Arriving late, Namjoo drove around for ten minutes before resorting to illegally parking across the street. So be it if she got a ticket. She'd get her father to clear it for her, no problem.

This late into the evening the hotel was lit up with magnificent lights. One of the grandest hotels in the city offered bookings, full spa services, a childcare, a golf course, restaurants, bars, lounges, and even a terrace. Stretching over 25 floors with impeccable service. This was child's play to Namjoo when she had her own hotel service right at home.

A doorman greeted her as she walked up. Followed the crowd streaming in. The air was thick of champagne, cologne, and heavy perfume. A live orchestra was playing as she entered. Probably the thousandth sonata of the night. Not one of the guests cared, and Namjoo was one of them. A chandelier of raining beads reflected blue light over her as searched for her family over the throng of heads. So many of them older gentlemen with white heads they looked like chess pieces to her.

Spotting a waiter walking by with a tray of champagne glasses she reached out for one. Missing her aim as she swerved.

"Namjoo!" A woman screeched letting go of her arm.

A knot tightened inside her chest when she stared back at her unruly step-mother. Lips so red against her white face she looked as silly as day. Did the housemaid dress you up Namjoo wanted to ask? She kept her lips shut for argument's sake. Tonight she would not have a catfight.

"Why, there you are!" The widest ever superficial smile broadened her lips. She looked like a clown as her lips stretched from ear to ear.

Sliding an arm around her to appear motherly, she led her through the crowd where fours and twos were joined together in conversations. About stocks. About investments. Loss of net incomes and someone and someone's daughter marrying a man of international business. Wow! The hand was heavy at her back if she didn't know any better. Namjoo truly wanted to squirm away.

"Honey, she's here," her step-mother, Kim Jiyoo, announced. A woman 10 years younger than her father. Namjoo never approved of the marriage. What of her mother she always cried! In an argument once Namjoo called her father a crib robber. She got slapped in retaliation.

The old man with graying but receding hair stopped smiling mid-convo with right hand man, Oh Shiwoo. Tight buddies they were. Always golfing, lunching together. Like brothers born from different mothers. What a pair Namjoo always wanted to sneer.

Like her father Oh Shiwoo was aged with a tightly woven face. One expression had his skin pulling back creasing unlikely lines around his eyes, his nose, his mouth. It was always an unlikely sight for Namjoo.

Now, both men looked at her. Actually, all eyes were on her.

"You're here." It was more of a grunt from her father. No warm welcoming, because they didn't do affectionate. Namjoo had stopped hugging him long ago. As if nothing she did could make him proud and also, Namjoo didn't want anything from him.

His re-marriage was the biggest betrayal yet.

And his next one was the worst.

Arm raised, Oh Shiwoo called out, "Son, Namjoo's here."

Namjoo didn't have to turn. She could already feel him approaching.

Oh Sehun, who her father had sold her to.

"Come, take her to see your uncle."

Namjoo stared at the group defiantly one last time before allowing Sehun to put his arm around her and lead her away. She intentionally let her feet drag, because she didn't want to be here. At this anniversary party celebrating Sehun's uncle's twentieth year of marriage. She could care less.

What was love anyway?

"Look happy, they'll think we argued." Sehun emotionlessly told.

Namjoo wanted to pull away from this charade.

Finally half a room away Sehun peered over his shoulder once before withdrawing his arm. Namjoo stepped away and stared in the opposite direction.

"I don't care what you do," Sehun muttered underneath his breath, "at least be on time."

Namjoo glared at him from out of the corner of her eyes. He swiped a champagne glass off a tray and took a sip without one glance at her.

"How hard I must have made it for you," Namjoo mumbled. She caught his glare before they quickly turned away at a haughty voice.

"Uncle!" Sehun's voice went up a notch.

Joining in on the cheeriness, Namjoo said, "Congratulations on your anniversary!"

"Yes, thank you. Thank you," the round man rumbled with laughter. "You two lovebirds, just wait until your wedding."

Namjoo's smile almost faltered. Wrapping an arm around her waist to draw her close, Sehun obnoxiously agreed, "Yes, we just can't wait!"

"No babies before marriage. Don't be like me. You need to enjoy your honeymoon and have a few years to yourself," his uncle teased.

"Yes, of course," Namjoo spoke through her too-wide smile.

Patting Sehun's shoulder the old man said, "You two go on now. It might be early, but we can't wait for you to join the family."

Forcing herself to nod, "Yes, I'm so excited."

Giving Sehun's shoulder another pat, the old man finally left. They made sure he was six groups away before Sehun let go of her, tucked a hand in his pocket, and resumed drinking his champagne.

It was such a pain just standing here. Namjoo wanted to get out of her heels, take a long bath, and sleep. Neither she nor Sehun spoke to each other the rest of the evening before leaving.

Their relationship was like that. Cold. Icy. She didn't like him. He didn't like her.

It was simple like that.

Two years earlier…

"No." Namjoo very coolly refused.

Just earlier she had been blasting music from a rock band in her room. In her shirt and an underwear dancing and frolicking around her room because she could. The three tier windows were open, but it wasn't like she had been disturbing anyone when their backyard extended for miles on out.

She'd grown up on an estate. In a mansion of 62 rooms, 30 bathrooms, surrounded by nature and the dense woods. There were jacuzzies, hot tubs, and a swimming pool the length of a football court. Here, Namjoo had always done everything she wanted. Parties, sleep overs, manicures, makeovers. She had raised cats and dogs, parrots, parakeets.

Her childhood had been fulfilling. Loved, spoiled, doted on. She was the daughter who had everything she wanted in the entire world. The luckiest of the bunch.

Until her mother died.

"I don't want to marry him." Namjoo held her stance.

Her father behind his desk stared her down, even though he was seated. This was what she had been called for. What she had pulled on a pair of sweats for.

To be told she would have to marry a man she didn't know.

"Why not?" he asked.

The wall sized window behind him shone grandly. Lighting the entire room up in a white, luminescent glow. Giving the room a disillusion of heaven, but this was only her father's office – barred from entry unless called for. Heaven was where her mother was.

"I don't want to," Namjoo stared back at him stubbornly. She refused to flinch when he slapped his heavy oak desk.

"That's not an answer," he said.

Holding her head higher, Namjoo said, "I'm not picking up after Hea's leftovers."

"Leftovers?" he repeated incredulous. He scoffed. Namjoo remained still, unmoving. Throwing his head back he laughed. More out of absurdity than because of her humor.

He was angry. Namjoo knew few things about her father. He was a bull like her. What he wanted, he would get even if he had to do it with the dirtiest means. He was a hard man whose heart would never crack even under a boulder. He was stubborn and mean and cold. Under his roof if he said something it would go that way. Namjoo was destined to always oppose him.

Decided, she would always oppose him because he broke her heart first.

His narrow slits landed on her when his mouth closed. "You have a way with words."

"I wasn't being funny." Namjoo dully told.

"I hear you've been seeing that Eunwoo boy," her father rubbed his chin.

Cha Eunwoo was her childhood playmate from since primary school. He was the only one who stayed with her during her mother's disappearance till her funeral. He was her rock in the hardest of times. Currently he was her boyfriend, but they hadn't gone to base two. In her head he was still very much her best friend.

"I love him," Namjoo answered, because she knew it was what he didn't want to hear.

"End it." he enunciated each word loudly.

"I don't want to."

The expression in his eyes strained. Frustrated now because she wasn't listening to him. "Do it! I will not allow you to marry someone who is not close enough to be family!"

"No."

"Kim Namjoo!" her father roared finally rising to his feet. Crumpling up the sheets of papers below his hands into his fists, he stared at her angrily, "This weekend you'll get engaged and you will marry Shiwoo's son. Regardless, this is the life I've chosen for you."

"Did you promise my mother that when you killed her?" Namjoo asked. She witnessed the way her father's cold expression faltered before pulling his mask back on. Seeing it made her breathe a laugh.

"Don't you dare bring up your mother," he warned.

Anger trembled through her veins, but Namjoo refused to back down. She had to go at it. She couldn't stop. Every fault in her life was because of her father.

Her mother had died because of this one man.

And he still would not give her answers!

"You know I'm right!" Namjoo yelled. "Don't promise me a good life when you took away all I ever had! I don't want anything from you! Don't try to act like my father! You're just a conniving beast, a greedy mongrel who murdered my mother!"

The slap was so loud that she hardly heard the air conditioning humming. Her left face immediately went numb.

She did get engaged to Sehun after getting a makeup guru to cake her entire face in white. They neither smiled at each other during the celebration.

Previously, Oh Sehun was supposed to marry her step-sister Hea. As the older daughter who was hard to contain, feminine Hea was ideal for every bachelor. The pretty type, the obedient girl who loved her parents and parents who loved her right back. The A+++ student. Kim Namjoo was the black to her white. Hard to groom, hard to control. Always on the loose. Doing as she pleased because even the laws were just boundaries that could not stop her. She was winter all year round.

But picky Hea did not want second class Oh Sehun, whose father worked directly under her father as his right-hand man. The step-sister demanded first class. A man that came with housemaids in tow. A man that did not have to work a full eight hours a day and follow the Chairman around.

Like a worthless game piece Oh Sehun had been tossed at her.

She knew he existed. She knew he was Oh Shiwoo's son.

Obviously, Sehun was a man. He was a year older than her. That was the limited information she knew about him. Before the engagement ceremony she had never sat alone in a room with him. Most likely his opinion did not differ from hers. When they first met at the ceremonial hall, they had looked at each other without a word. Certainly he must have heard she was not a quiet woman and he was bound to have a hard life.

It was his bad luck to be sent to her. Namjoo wouldn't feel for him. She refused to have an ounce of emotion for him.

Till now, she didn't know any more about him than she already did. She didn't really care because the rest of her life would be as meaningless as the air she breathed.