Ha Yoori didn't believe in fate.
She believed in receipts, direct deposits, and luxury brand sales.
So when people whispered that she was lucky to be childhood friends with Cha Haekyung—the future head of Korea's most powerful conglomerate—she didn't argue. She was lucky. Exceptionally, spectacularly lucky. And she had no plans to waste it.
As she strolled through the iron gates of the Cha estate, humming a cheerful tune, she spotted him standing in the winter light—tall, clean-cut, and disgustingly rich. Her smile widened.
"Haekyung-ah," she called sweetly, bouncing up to him like a puppy who smelled cashmere. "Did you miss me?"
He looked up from his phone, gaze unreadable. "You're twelve minutes late."
"I got distracted by a sale," she said, holding up her phone. "Designer boots. Eighty percent off. You would've cried if you saw the original price."
"I wouldn't have blinked."
"I know. That's why I forwarded the link to you. You're welcome."
He stared at her for a moment. "You want me to buy them."
"Yes," she said instantly. "Obviously. What else is our friendship for?"
He didn't smile, but his hand moved into his coat pocket. Seconds later, her phone buzzed.
[Transaction complete.]
Her eyes lit up. "Ugh, I love you. You're like Santa, if Santa had a black card and anger issues."
"You're wearing mismatched socks," he said dryly.
"I was too busy budgeting my ramen expenses to worry about fashion."
Haekyung sighed and turned, walking toward the greenhouse without another word. Yoori trotted after him, her oversized hoodie flapping in the breeze, worn jeans scuffed at the knees.
"By the way," she said casually. "Are you sure your family doesn't need, like, a live-in heiress? I'm small, I eat very little, and I'm great at spending money."
"You already live here most of the time."
"Yes, but unofficially. I want a room with central heating and a card under my name."
"I gave you three last month."
"Right, but they're under your name."
He glanced sideways at her, the barest flicker of a smirk on his lips. "You'll bleed me dry."
"Exactly. That's the dream."
They stepped into the greenhouse, warmth spilling over her frozen fingers. The scent of soil and old tomato vines still lingered. Her grandfather had spent the last twenty years here, growing vegetables for the Cha household—and teaching her how to ask for exactly what she wanted without shame.
Haekyung walked to the planter box, silent for a moment.
"You could've said no," he said finally. "To the boots."
Yoori blinked. "Why would I?"
"Most people pretend to be modest."
She made a face. "Modesty doesn't pay rent."
He let out a low breath, something like a laugh hidden inside it. "You haven't changed."
"I hope not," she said brightly. "The old me was broke and adorable. The new me? Slightly richer. Still adorable."
Haekyung looked down at her, eyes dark and unreadable. "If you ever get tired of being adorable, I'll still keep you."
Yoori tilted her head. "As what? A pet?"
"As mine."
There was a beat of silence.
Yoori, unbothered, leaned closer. "Do I get dental insurance?"
"Premium coverage."
"Then sure," she said without missing a beat. "You can have me."
He didn't flinch. "I already do."
She laughed, not because it was funny—but because he always said things like that. Cool, calm, ridiculous things that made her chest twist in ways she didn't like to examine.
She walked over to the nearest chair and plopped down, tugging her backpack open. "By the way, I brought a list."
"What kind of list?"
"Things you can buy me this month. I categorized them by necessity. Level One: survival. Level Two: fashion emergencies. Level Three: emotional support luxury."
Haekyung sat across from her, reaching for the list without a word.
He didn't complain. He never did.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how many zeroes followed his name, Haekyung always looked at her like she was the one thing in this world he couldn't afford to lose.