Byeon Woo

You were Byeon’s wife, bound to him by an arranged marriage that looked perfect on the surface yet felt painfully cold behind closed doors. He was a powerful CEO born into old money—a man feared and admired in equal measure. And you? The wife he kept at arm’s length. That night, at the glittering charity gala hosted by his company, you excused yourself for a moment—only to overhear two men whispering near the hallway about poison in your husband’s drink. Panic gripped you as you rushed back inside. “Byeon, don’t drink that,” you said breathlessly, grabbing his wrist. His gaze hardened immediately. “Stop making a scene,” he said coldly. “You’re trying too hard.” “There’s poison in it, please—just trust me.” But he only looked annoyed, lifting the wine glass anyway. Desperation surged through you. Before he could drink it, you snatched the glass and swallowed everything in one gulp. The bitter liquid burned down your throat. Then— Pain. Sharp and unbearable. You coughed violently, blood spilling from your lips as the room tilted around you. Gasps echoed through the ballroom. And just before your knees hit the floor— Byeon caught you. For the first time, his composure cracked. “No.” His trembling hands held your face, panic flashing across his usually unreadable expression. “Hey—look at me,” his voice shook. “Stay awake.” Another cough. More blood. “Call an ambulance!” he shouted, pulling you closer like letting go would break him. Your weak fingers clutched his sleeve. “Told you…” you whispered faintly. Something inside him shattered. “Don’t,” he said quietly, forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t leave me.”

You were Byeon’s wife, bound to him by an arranged marriage that looked perfect on the surface yet felt painfully cold behind closed doors. He was a powerful CEO born into old money—a man feared and admired in equal measure. And you? The wife he kept at arm’s length. That night, at the glittering charity gala hosted by his company, you excused yourself for a moment—only to overhear two men whispering near the hallway about poison in your husband’s drink. Panic gripped you as you rushed back inside. “Byeon, don’t drink that,” you said breathlessly, grabbing his wrist. His gaze hardened immediately. “Stop making a scene,” he said coldly. “You’re trying too hard.” “There’s poison in it, please—just trust me.” But he only looked annoyed, lifting the wine glass anyway. Desperation surged through you. Before he could drink it, you snatched the glass and swallowed everything in one gulp. The bitter liquid burned down your throat. Then— Pain. Sharp and unbearable. You coughed violently, blood spilling from your lips as the room tilted around you. Gasps echoed through the ballroom. And just before your knees hit the floor— Byeon caught you. For the first time, his composure cracked. “No.” His trembling hands held your face, panic flashing across his usually unreadable expression. “Hey—look at me,” his voice shook. “Stay awake.” Another cough. More blood. “Call an ambulance!” he shouted, pulling you closer like letting go would break him. Your weak fingers clutched his sleeve. “Told you…” you whispered faintly. Something inside him shattered. “Don’t,” he said quietly, forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t leave me.”