Ethan Kim
Name: Kim Ethan (김에단)
Age: 30
MBTI: ISTJ – The Logistician
Height: 6 feets 5 inches
Profession: CEO of his own successful business (unrelated to his family's empire)
Family: Father (Chairman of a powerful conglomerate), Mother, and a Sister
Relationship with Family: Emotionally distant; completely cut ties
Current Residence: Lives independently, separate from his family estate
Personality Traits:
Disciplined & Reserved: Ethan is stoic, calculating, and intensely private. He believes in control, precision, and logic—never emotion.
Emotionally Detached: Scarred by childhood trauma and betrayal, Ethan has trained himself not to feel—especially not affection.
Sharp Intellect: Extremely intelligent, a strategist at heart. Sees people as pieces on a board, valuable only when useful.
Unkind but Honest: He never lies—but he doesn't sugarcoat the truth. He will hurt with honesty if it maintains control.
Vengeful: Holds long-term grudges, especially against those who wronged him or his late brother.
Appearance:
Face: Chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones, and emotionless eyes that seem to calculate rather than observe.
Eyes: Deep brown, but always unreadable—like looking into glass. The kind that never softens, even when he's pretending to listen.
Hair: Always neat. Usually jet black or dark brown, styled clean with a side part or brushed back. Never messy, never vulnerable.
Build: Lean, tall, and well-proportioned—athletic but not showy. He carries himself with quiet authority.
Voice: Low and calm, but firm. Speaks with precision and never wastes words.
____________________
The ceremony hall wasn't romantic—it was regal, cold, and spotless. Glass chandeliers glistened like frozen tears, and everything was tinted in sterile whites and muted greys. A wedding that looked more like a merger than a celebration.
Han Soo Ah stood at the end of the aisle, radiant in an off-shoulder ivory gown. Her smile wasn't the soft, shy kind—it was bold, almost reckless. She looked like a woman walking into fire willingly.
She could feel the weight of eyes on her. Some curious. Some envious. Some afraid. But she only looked at one man.
Ethan Kim.
Standing beneath a towering arch of white roses and silver branches, he was every bit the ghost of elegance. His suit was black, perfectly tailored. His expression was unreadable—as if this moment meant nothing. Because to him, it didn't.
Soo Ah reached the altar. Their eyes met. Hers were bright with emotion. His were flat, distant.
The officiant began speaking, but Soo Ah barely heard it. All she focused on was the man beside her—the man who didn't love her, but still stood here.
She spoke without shaking.
"I know this isn't the kind of love people write poems about," she said, her voice low and clear, "but I never wanted a poem. I wanted you. Even if it meant bleeding for it."
Whispers moved through the crowd like static.
She turned slightly toward him.
"So I'm not asking you to love me. I'm asking you to let me stand beside you—through your rage, through your revenge, through the silence."
Then she smiled. Not desperate. Not sad.
"Because if you're the fire, I'll be the fool who never runs."
There was a pause. The air felt too still.
Ethan simply looked at her. No softness in his gaze. No affection.
He didn't smile. He didn't even blink.
The officiant's voice was a soft murmur in the background.
"Do you, Kim Ethan, take Han Soo Ah to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
There was a long pause.
Ethan's dark eyes met Soo Ah's. She looked up at him, heart on her sleeve—bloody, trembling, unhidden.
He spoke without a hint of warmth.
"Yes."
There was no emotion in it. No hesitation either. Just a decision made. Like signing a contract.
The officiant turned.
"And do you, Han Soo Ah—"
"I do," she said quickly. Breathless. Almost laughing. "I always have."
A few guests chuckled nervously.
Rings were exchanged. His hand was cold. Hers was shaking—but not from fear. From joy. This was everything she ever wanted—even if she had to bleed to keep it.
"By the power vested in me—"
Applause broke out. Cameras flashed again.
But Ethan didn't kiss her.
Instead, he turned to the crowd with a nod of acknowledgment, as if completing a deal. Soo Ah leaned toward him, smiling softly, and whispered:
"You don't have to love me, Ethan. Just don't leave."
He didn't reply.
Instead, he offered her his arm, and she took it—clinging to it like a lifeline, or maybe like a prisoner to her captor.
As they walked down the aisle, surrounded by people who thought this was a celebration, only two people in the room knew the truth:
And yet, they walked out together.
Not as lovers.
But as monsters with matching rings.
______________
Ethan walked ahead of her, footsteps precise on the dark wood floors of the mansion's private wing. The hallway was long, quiet, and too immaculate—like everything in his life.
He opened a heavy oak door and gestured for her to enter. "This will be your room."
Soo Ah stepped inside.
It was beautiful, of course. High ceilings. Soft ivory walls. A queen-sized bed with midnight-blue sheets. A reading nook by the window, minimalist decor—expensive but sterile, like it belonged to someone who didn't believe in comfort.
She turned slowly, taking it in.
"No pink? No flowers?" she said with a grin. "Not even a congratulatory balloon?"
Ethan didn't respond. He stood near the doorway, arms folded.
"You'll sleep here. No one comes in without permission. You'll have your space, and I'll have mine."
"Spoken like a man deeply in love," Soo Ah replied, smiling just to irritate him.
Ethan gave her a brief, warning glance and turned to leave—but as he did, Soo Ah caught something odd in the corner of the room.
A second door.
Quietly tucked into the far wall.
Same wood, same handle—but different.
Her eyes narrowed, curiosity flashing.
"Wait." She walked toward it, brushing her fingers against the frame. "Is this…?"
Ethan paused at the threshold, his back to her.
Soo Ah opened the door just enough to peek in.
A second bedroom.
Darker. Colder. Familiar.
His.
She turned back to him, eyebrows lifted.
"So our rooms are connected? How very old-money romance of you, Mr. Kim."
He didn't look amused.
"It was designed that way when the house was built," he said flatly. "It's irrelevant."
Soo Ah leaned against the frame with a smirk. "Sure it is. Nothing says 'I don't care about you' like a secretly conjoined bedroom door."
He shot her a look. Cold. Warning. But she was too delighted to care.
"Don't worry," she added. "I won't sneak in at midnight wearing silk and desperation. Unless you want me to."
"I don't," he said sharply.
Her grin widened. "That's what makes this even more fun."
Ethan didn't rise to it. He just turned away.
"Keep the door locked."
And with that, he disappeared into his room—closing the door between them with a final click.
Soo Ah stared at the door for a moment, her smile lingering like mischief.
"Locked doors only matter when someone wants to leave," she whispered to herself.
Then she turned, kicked off her heels, and fell back onto the bed with a content sigh.
She wasn't in his heart.
But she was in the room next door.
And that was enough—for now.