Unlike Tristan or Saeki, who were well-versed in dealing with women, Shin had no other way of expressing his feelings except through blunt, straightforward words.
Unfortunately, his confession appeared to backfire—Yeri looked as though she had just been handed a death sentence.
Frustrated, Shin raked a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. "Yeri Zhi, do you have a problem with me?"
Yeri hadn't recovered from the shock. She stared up at him in disbelief, her face pale, a sheen of sweat forming on her forehead.
Like a broken record, a voice repeated endlessly in her mind: Like... I like you...
Shin had never confessed to any woman before—not until now, and to this infuriating, oblivious woman who had a knack for ghosting him.
Was it really that bad to be liked by him?
Shin leaned in, his hand gently lifting her chin as a smug smile tugged at his lips. "If you don't say anything, I'll take your silence as mutual feelings."
Startled, Yeri instinctively jerked back, nearly slamming her head into the wall—if not for Shin's other hand catching her just in time.
She blinked, then reached up to feel his forehead. "Young Master Keir, are you sick?"
Shin's eyes narrowed as he grabbed her wrist. "Yeri Zhi!"
"You shouldn't say things you don't mean," she whispered, pulling back slightly.
His grip didn't loosen. "Do I look like the kind of man who jokes ? Tell me—have I ever joked with you?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "But... I don't understand."
Of course she didn't. How could she?
Naturally, Shin's sudden confession was hard for her to process. They had no real foundation—barely a handful of encounters, most of which had been short, chaotic, and tinged with strangeness.
Their very first meeting was clearly alcohol-fueled and driven by impulse.
Shin looked at her, reading her thoughts. "Do I need a reason to like you?"
Yeri instinctively nodded—then froze as she met his eyes. They were burning with something fierce and unreadable.
Instead of waiting for her to speak again, Shin closed the distance. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other cradled the back of her head, and then—he kissed her.
Yeri's eyes flew open in shock. She pushed against him, but he didn't budge.
She had thought it would just be a quick kiss. A graze, maybe.
But then she felt his tongue slipping into her mouth, and all thoughts stopped.
The kiss deepened—raw, possessive, and intense. His hands tightened around her, pulling her closer. There was nothing hesitant about him anymore.
He kissed her like a man who had finally let go of his restraint.
By noon, Yeri woke up to the sight of sculpted abs directly in front of her.
Her brain took a second to catch up.
Shin Keir, this shameless man!
She groaned and sat up, dragging herself out of the bed like she was escaping from a trap.
As if stealing her breath last night wasn't enough—literally—he then had the audacity to carry her to bed and get on top of her.
If she hadn't claimed to have a headache, she was fairly sure they would've gone all the way.
There was something different about him... but she couldn't quite pinpoint it.
Physically, she had to admit—he was her ideal type from head to toe. Absurdly handsome, tall, muscular, with a voice that could melt resolve like butter.
If not for his appearance she wouldn't be swayed in agreeing to be his girlfriend in the first place, even knowing his status and wealth.
But Yeri wasn't some love-struck fool. She didn't fall in love easily.
And when it came to romance, she was certain—she had no real feelings for Shin Keir.
If she had slept with him last night, things would only get more complicated. And that was the last thing she wanted.
She hadn't lost her mind enough to play with fire. Not yet.
Unless... could this be some kind of bet? A dare between bored rich kids—to make her fall in love, or agree to be his girlfriend for a limited time?
It wouldn't be surprising, honestly.
After all, that kind of thing wasn't unheard of among the filthy rich.
But then again... Shin Keir didn't seem like the type to toy with women.
Yeri sighed, heading toward the bathroom, her thoughts a tangle. She barely knew him. It wouldn't be fair to accuse him of something without proof.
In the end, she decided not to overthink it.
She washed her face and looked at her reflection. Her skin looked tired—but that wasn't what caught her eye.
Her neck. Covered in hickeys.
Yeri nearly lost it when she saw the obvious hickeys dotting her neck. Spring weather had allowed her to hide them with turtlenecks before—but it was already hot.
What was she supposed to do now? Parade around in scarves like a weirdo?
Fuming, she stormed out of the bathroom and hurled a pillow at the sleeping scoundrel.
It hit him square in the face, but he didn't even move. Fast asleep. Or pretending.
Yeri clenched her fists. She wanted to kick him. Really, she did. But violence wouldn't fix this mess.
Just then, someone knocked on the door. Her heart skipped. Room service? Worse—her parents?
Panicking, she scrambled to change and wrapped a shawl around her neck like her life depended on it. Then, carefully, she opened the door a crack.
Venice stood there, eyes bloodshot, trying to smile. "Yeri, Aunt and Uncle already left. I—I just wanted to apologize for last night. I was impulsive, but I swear I wasn't trying to accuse you. Believe it or not, I did see a man enter your room..."
Venice's eyes subtly darted toward the narrow opening, clearly hoping to spot someone inside.
Yeri raised an eyebrow. Venice hadn't slept a wink. Still lurking around like a lunatic.
Honestly, she felt a mix of relief and irritation. At least it wasn't her parents.
"Venice," she said coolly, "didn't I tell you not to show your face around me unless you had something useful to say? If you bother me again, I won't just call security—I'll call the police."
Before Venice could respond, Yeri slammed the door shut.
She wasn't grateful in the slightest that Venice had called hotel security last night. They both knew it wasn't out of concern—but a petty scheme to ruin her.
Yeri found Carpet happily paddling around the dipping pool. No wonder he'd been hanging around the balcony—he'd been swimming without supervision for who knows how long.
Right. Her parents had booked the suite for two nights so she could rest after her debut banquet and de-stress.
If not for Shin Keir, she might have had a relaxing time.
Yeri plopped into the swing chair on the balcony, letting Carpet do as he pleased. She grabbed the hotel menu. It was already noon, and her stomach was growling.
Just then, Shin appeared—shirtless, hair slightly tousled, a lazy smile on his lips.
"Good morning," he said, and leaned down to kiss her.
Yeri froze. His lips were warm, sending a shiver down her spine.
"What are you planning to eat?" he asked as he scooped her up and sat down with her on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Is this man delusional? Does he think this is a honeymoon?!
Then she remembered the hickeys.
She jumped to her feet. "How about you explain this?" she snapped, pointing at her neck. "Have you ever considered how I'm supposed to cover these in this heat?!"
Shin frowned, reaching out to pull her back. She resisted, glaring.
"I'll have someone send over a cream," he offered casually.
Yeri rolled her eyes. "Even if it's magic cream, it won't fix this overnight."
"You better leave," she huffed.
Shin's lips twitched, grabbing her down. "You still haven't answered me."
She stiffened. "W-What?"
"I wasn't joking when I said I like you," he said, leaning closer.
"I-I'll think about it," Yeri stammered, looking away. "I mean, I have an ideal type too."
"Is that so?" he murmured near her ear. "Tell me."
Flustered, Yeri leapt up, her ear burning. He's definitely seducing me!
"Hmph! Someone who isn't so insensitive! Who doesn't make me anxious or uncomfortable—like leaving hickeys or barging into my room!"
Shin smile meaningfully, eyes gleaming.
"Or chasing me with scary people like I'm a criminal! Gatecrashing uninvited..." she trailed off, watching him carefully.
But to her surprise, he looked perfectly calm. Too calm. His smile even deepened in a way that didn't bode well.
"Have you ever thought about why I did those things?" he said. "If someone hadn't been so good at avoiding me, would I need to go that far?"
"Anything else your ideal type should be?" he asked.
Yeri bit her lip. Talking to Shin Keir made her feel like her IQ was on a steady decline.
There was no point in pretending anymore. She might as well be honest.
With a deep breath, she straightened up. "Young Master Keir, thank you for liking me. But I don't think our personalities are compatible. I don't hate you... but I also don't like you—that much."
She nearly bit her lip again at the end, heart pounding. She braced herself for his anger, ready to run.
As for Carpet—well, that little traitor liked him anyway. Shin wouldn't harm him.
But nothing happened.
No outburst. No retort.
Just silence—save for the gentle splashes from the pool.
Then Shin stood, approaching her. His toned muscles and tattoos distracted her more than they should've.
She suddenly recalled how she fell from the gazebo. Now, at this distance, she saw clearly—he really was...
Yeri's eyes darted upward. Don't look down. Just look at his face. Only his face!
Shin chuckled and flicked her forehead lightly. "Since you didn't mention anything about appearance, I assume I meet those criteria?"
Yeri: "..." I want to hit him!