The soft hum of machines filled the operating room, punctuated by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Dr. Eun Jisoo's hands moved with practiced precision, guiding her scalpel along the patient’s chest. The atmosphere was tense, but her calm, focused expression gave the surgical team a quiet confidence.

"Clamp," she said, her voice steady despite the late hour.

"Clamp," echoed the nurse beside her, swiftly handing her the tool.

This surgery—an urgent bypass for a man in his sixties—was risky but necessary. The patient’s life hung in the balance, and for Eun Jisoo, failure wasn’t an option. She had built her career at Daehan Central Hospital by never losing focus. It was why she was the hospital’s ace heart surgeon, trusted to handle the most complex cases.

Her eyes flicked to the monitor. The patient’s heart rate was stabilizing. Relief tugged at the corners of her mind, but she suppressed it. Not yet. Not until the final stitch.

"We’re almost there," she muttered under her breath, the soft clink of surgical instruments the only reply.

After what felt like an eternity, the last suture was in place. She pulled back, letting the tension in her body unwind as her assistants began closing up the incision. Her part of the job was done. Eun removed her gloves and mask, and with a nod to her team, she stepped out of the operating room.

As she walked down the hall, her thoughts shifted away from the patient on the table and back to the larger battle ahead. For months, she had been fighting to establish a dedicated heart transplant center within the hospital. The project was personal—deeply personal. Years ago, she had lost her younger brother to a heart condition, and his death had fueled her drive to specialize in cardiac surgery. Now, she wanted to save others from the same fate.

But securing funding for the center had been a challenge. The hospital board, led by the calculating and notoriously cold chairman, Kang Hyun-joon, wasn’t easily swayed. Despite her stellar reputation and the importance of the project, the board saw only numbers—and those numbers didn’t favor her proposal. The heart transplant center was seen as too risky, too costly.

Eun reached her office, sinking into the leather chair behind her desk. She had a meeting with the board the next day, a final chance to plead her case. She couldn’t afford any setbacks.

Just as she leaned back, her phone buzzed on the desk, jolting her out of her thoughts. It was the billing department.

"Dr. Eun?" The voice on the other end was tense. "We have a situation. Mr. Nam—your patient in Room 12—he’s... he’s gone."

"Gone?" Eun’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean gone?"

"He left the hospital without notice. Discharged himself against medical advice, and... well, he left behind a significant unpaid bill."

Eun sat up, a knot of dread forming in her stomach. Mr. Nam had been one of her wealthier patients, a man with connections and influence. He had promised to pay his medical expenses once his legal issues were resolved, but now he was gone, and the hospital was on the hook for his unpaid bills.

"How much are we talking about?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Around five million won. It’s... it’s going to be a problem for the hospital’s finances, Dr. Eun. And with your project still pending—"

"I understand." Eun cut the conversation short, already knowing the implications. "Thank you for informing me."

She ended the call and leaned back in her chair, her mind spinning. Five million won in unpaid bills would be disastrous, not just for the hospital, but for her transplant center proposal. The board would never approve it if they had to absorb such a large financial loss.

Her phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t the billing department. It was a number she recognized all too well. Kang Hyun-joon.

She hesitated for a moment before answering. The chairman rarely contacted her directly, and when he did, it was never good news.

"Dr. Eun," his voice was cool, detached. "I assume you’ve been informed about the situation with Mr. Nam."

"I have," she replied, keeping her tone professional. "I’m working on a solution."

"Good," Hyun-joon said, though there was no warmth in his voice. "Because this situation reflects poorly on the hospital, and your project is already a contentious issue with the board. Any further missteps could see it delayed—or canceled altogether."

"I understand," she said, suppressing a surge of frustration. "I’ll handle it."

"See that you do," was his only reply before the call ended.

Eun put the phone down and let out a slow breath. Hyun-joon was a man of few words, but his meaning was clear. If she didn’t fix this problem, her heart transplant center would never see the light of day.

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a solution. Finding Mr. Nam would be next to impossible, and the hospital couldn’t afford to lose that kind of money. Her only option was to find a way to secure the funds herself—but how?

She stood up and began pacing her office, wracking her brain for answers. She needed an ally, someone with influence and resources. Someone who could sway the board in her favor. And that someone, whether she liked it or not, was Kang Hyun-joon.

But getting him on her side would be a challenge. The chairman was known for his icy demeanor and business-first mentality. He had never shown any interest in personal matters, and he certainly wasn’t the type to do favors.

Unless...

Eun’s thoughts flashed back to the hospital gossip. Rumor had it that Hyun-joon’s family had been pressuring him to settle down, to find a suitable partner and secure the family legacy. It was a ridiculous thought, but... what if she could offer him something in return?

A partnership. A fake relationship that could benefit them both. If she helped him deal with his family’s demands, perhaps he would be willing to help her secure the funding for the heart transplant center.

It was an insane idea. Completely out of character for her. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

She took a deep breath and picked up her phone once again. If she was going to propose this arrangement, she needed to do it carefully. There was no turning back now.

With a determined expression, she dialed Hyun-joon’s number.

"Chairman Kang," she said when he answered, her voice steady despite the nerves in her stomach. "I have a proposal that I think might benefit us both."

The silence that followed Eun Jisoo’s words was deafening. For a moment, she wondered if Kang Hyun-joon had hung up, his disapproval too great to even warrant a response. She could almost picture him, sitting in his sleek office, his cold eyes narrowing in quiet calculation.

"What exactly are you proposing, Dr. Eun?" His voice finally came through, each word sharp and measured.

Jisoo’s heart raced. She had anticipated this moment, but now that it was here, it felt surreal. She was about to ask something so absurd, so outside the realm of anything she'd ever considered. But her mind was made up. For her project—for her patients—she was willing to risk everything.

"I understand that your family has been pressuring you to... settle down," she said cautiously, choosing her words with care. "And while I don’t pretend to know the full extent of those pressures, I believe that I might be able to offer you a solution."

There was a pause, and Jisoo could hear a faint sigh on the other end of the line. Hyun-joon was not a man who liked his personal life discussed, and bringing up his family, especially in a business conversation, was dangerous territory. But there was no turning back now.

"I’m listening," Hyun-joon said, though there was a distinct chill in his tone.

Jisoo took a deep breath. "What if we entered into a... mutually beneficial arrangement? A fake relationship, just for appearances. It would satisfy your family’s expectations, and in return, I ask for your support in securing the funding for the heart transplant center."

The words hung in the air, and Jisoo half expected Hyun-joon to laugh, to dismiss her suggestion as ridiculous. But instead, the line remained silent, the weight of her proposition sinking in.

"A fake relationship?" His voice was unreadable, and Jisoo could almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he considered the idea. "You do realize how utterly unorthodox this is?"

"Yes, I do," she replied quickly, trying to maintain her composure. "But I also know that unorthodox solutions are sometimes necessary. You need someone to get your family off your back, and I need your influence to get the board on mine."

There was a long pause. Jisoo waited, the anticipation gnawing at her. She had laid her cards on the table, and now the outcome rested solely in his hands.

"Why would I agree to this?" Hyun-joon’s voice was steady, but there was a trace of curiosity. He wasn’t dismissing the idea out of hand.

"Because it benefits both of us," she said, leaning forward as if the act of moving closer to the phone could somehow convey her sincerity. "I don’t need or want anything from you personally. This isn’t about emotions or relationships. It’s purely transactional. You help me, and I help you."

"And what exactly do you expect in return?"

"Your backing. Convince the board to approve the funding for the heart transplant center. That’s all I ask. Once the center is up and running, our arrangement ends, no strings attached."

Another pause. Jisoo held her breath, waiting for his verdict. The silence stretched on so long that she began to wonder if she had pushed too far, if he would flatly reject her offer and jeopardize everything she had worked for.

Finally, Hyun-joon spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. "You’re asking me to pretend to be in a relationship with you to get what you want?"

"In exchange for helping you with your family," she clarified. "We both get something out of this. It’s a win-win."

"And how exactly do you plan to convince my family that this... arrangement is genuine?" There was a hint of skepticism in his voice now, but also something else—interest. She had his attention.

"We would need to establish the illusion. Attend a few events together, make sure it’s public enough that your family and the board believe it," Jisoo explained. "It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate. Just enough to satisfy both sides."

Another pause. This one felt different—calculated. Hyun-joon wasn’t one to make decisions lightly, and Jisoo knew he was weighing the pros and cons in his mind, considering every possible outcome.

"And what happens if people find out that it’s fake?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"They won’t," she said confidently. "As long as we’re careful and keep our personal lives separate, no one will suspect a thing. This is a temporary arrangement, nothing more."

She could hear him exhale softly, and for a brief moment, she wondered if she had won him over.

"Fine," he said finally, his voice clipped. "But understand this, Dr. Eun—this is purely business. I’ll support your project, but once it’s complete, we go our separate ways. No complications, no lingering expectations. Agreed?"

Jisoo’s heart skipped a beat. She had done it. Against all odds, she had convinced the most powerful man in the hospital to help her.

"Agreed," she said, trying to suppress the sense of triumph rising in her chest. "Thank you, Chairman Kang. I won’t let you down."

"See that you don’t," he replied coldly. "I’ll be in touch."

With that, the call ended, and Jisoo was left alone in her office, her heart pounding in her chest. She had done it. She had taken the biggest gamble of her life—and for now, it seemed like it had paid off.

But as she sat back in her chair, the reality of what she had just agreed to began to sink in. She was going to pretend to be in a relationship with Kang Hyun-joon, the cold and aloof chairman who barely acknowledged her existence. It was a crazy idea, but it was also her only chance to make the heart transplant center a reality.

She couldn’t afford to fail. Not now.

The next morning, Eun Jisoo found herself standing in front of the large glass doors of Kang Hyun-joon’s office. Her heart pounded in her chest, more from nerves than the caffeine she had chugged down earlier. She had to remind herself that this was purely business. Nothing more. But the idea of sitting face-to-face with the man she was about to pretend to be romantically involved with made her palms sweat.

She knocked softly, the sound almost swallowed by the thick door. After a brief pause, a familiar cold voice came from the other side. “Come in.”

With a deep breath, Jisoo pushed the door open. Hyun-joon was seated behind his massive mahogany desk, his gaze fixed on a document in front of him. He didn’t look up immediately, his attention wholly focused on whatever business demanded his scrutiny. When he finally glanced at her, his expression remained unreadable—impassive, distant.

“Dr. Eun,” he greeted curtly, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Jisoo nodded and quickly took the seat. As she settled in, she tried to steady her breathing. There was something about Kang Hyun-joon’s presence that was unnerving. Maybe it was the way his sharp, intense eyes seemed to see through everything. Or perhaps it was the aura of authority he carried with him wherever he went.

“I assume you’ve thought this through?” Hyun-joon asked, his voice cool as ever. “You know the consequences if this arrangement is exposed.”

Jisoo straightened her back, reminding herself that this was her idea. “I’m aware of the risks. But if we’re both careful, no one will find out.”

Hyun-joon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he studied her. “And you think you can convince people that we’re in a relationship?”

Jisoo resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I think we can convince them. It’s not like we have to convince the entire world—just your family and the hospital board.”

For a moment, Hyun-joon said nothing, his gaze never leaving hers. The silence between them stretched, and Jisoo began to wonder if he was having second thoughts. Then, without warning, he leaned forward, pulling a sleek tablet from the corner of his desk.

“I’ve drawn up a contract.” He slid the tablet across the desk toward her. “These are the terms.”

Jisoo blinked, momentarily thrown off by the mention of a contract. Of course, there would be terms—this was Kang Hyun-joon, after all. Everything he did was carefully calculated, organized, and bound by legal agreements. She picked up the tablet, her eyes scanning the neatly typed text.

The terms were straightforward: the fake relationship would last for three months. During that time, they would attend social functions together, with a handful of public outings to make the relationship seem believable. In exchange for her cooperation, Hyun-joon would ensure that the heart transplant center received full funding, with no strings attached. There was also a confidentiality clause, ensuring that if either party broke the agreement, the consequences would be severe—especially for Jisoo.

“You’ve covered every detail,” she muttered under her breath.

“I don’t leave anything to chance,” Hyun-joon replied smoothly.

Jisoo handed the tablet back, her mind racing. On paper, it all seemed so simple. Three months of pretending, and she’d have everything she needed to make her dream a reality. But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing about Kang Hyun-joon was easy.

“And what about... us?” she asked cautiously. “How do we make it look believable?”

Hyun-joon’s lips quirked into something that could have been a smile, but it was gone too quickly for Jisoo to tell. “We’ll have to spend time together. Attend functions, be seen in public. But we’ll maintain boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Jisoo arched a brow.

“Yes.” Hyun-joon’s expression hardened slightly. “We’re professionals, Dr. Eun. I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly. This is a business arrangement, nothing more.”

Jisoo nodded slowly. She had expected nothing less, but hearing it stated so plainly gave her an odd sense of relief. There was no risk of emotional entanglement—no possibility of blurred lines. Kang Hyun-joon had made it clear: this was strictly a transaction.

“Understood,” she replied. “When do we start?”

“Immediately,” Hyun-joon said. “There’s a gala next Friday. I’ll have my assistant arrange for appropriate attire. We’ll make our first appearance together there.”

Jisoo’s heart skipped a beat. She had attended countless hospital functions, but this would be different. This time, she wouldn’t just be Dr. Eun Jisoo, the heart surgeon. She’d be Kang Hyun-joon’s girlfriend—at least, that’s what everyone would believe.

“I’ll be ready,” she said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.

Hyun-joon gave a single nod. “Good. I’ll have the final contract sent to you by tomorrow. Sign it, and we’ll move forward.”

Jisoo stood, her legs feeling slightly wobbly as she made her way to the door. She could feel Hyun-joon’s gaze on her as she reached for the handle, but she didn’t turn around. There was no need to look back—she had already stepped into this arrangement, and there was no going back now.

Just as she was about to leave, Hyun-joon’s voice stopped her. “One more thing, Dr. Eun.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

“We’ll need to make it convincing,” he said, his voice low and measured. “That means there will be times when we’ll need to act... affectionate.”

Jisoo’s heart skipped again. Affectionate? The thought of pretending to be close with Kang Hyun-joon, of possibly holding his hand or leaning into him at public events, sent a strange mix of unease and anticipation through her.

“I understand,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ll play my part.”

Hyun-joon’s eyes softened just the faintest bit, and for the briefest moment, Jisoo thought she saw a flicker of something in his gaze—something that wasn’t cold or calculating. But then it was gone, replaced by his usual stoic mask.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

With that, Jisoo left the office, her mind spinning with the enormity of what she had just agreed to. She had three months to pull off the most convincing act of her life. And though it was all supposed to be pretend, something told her that things with Kang Hyun-joon were going to get complicated—very complicated.