One

1.5 million won. 

One night. Her apartment.

He'd accepted within the hour.

Grey was his name. Well… that was the name she found on his profile, Count Your Blessings. A sugar baby site. A place where lonely people with money found lonely people without it.

She'd never been lonely before.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She'd been lonely her whole life. She just hadn't realised it until her parents cut her off financially and her ‘friends’ eventually evaporated the moment the money dried up, and became a pariah in her family.

She wasn't completely broke—not yet. She had savings. A separate account her parents didn't know about, accumulated over years of allowances and gifts she'd tucked away. She hadn’t decided what she was going to do with the money she saved or why she felt the need to have savings, especially given who her family is.

It wasn’t like something was going to go wrong.

Well, everything went wrong.

The money was gone. The friends were gone. The family was gone.

All that was left was the penthouse—her mother's, really, but she hadn't taken it back yet—and a desperate need to feel something other than empty.

And now she was dipping into that fund to pay a stranger 1.5 million won for one night.

She'd spent the past two days second-guessing herself. She almost cancelled the arrangement a dozen times. 

“What the hell am I even doing?” she sighed, pushing her long dark hair back.

She was still young. Still beautiful. She could have any man she wanted with little to no effort, just by her name alone.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

The men who wanted her wanted the money. The status. The bragging rights of dating the oldest daughter of the Moon family.

At least with this arrangement, there was no hidden agenda. She knew this man was only doing it for the money—spending 1.5 million won for one night is no joke, and he'd be out of his mind to refuse—but at least he was honest about it.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Her therapist would have a field day with this.

The doorbell rang at exactly 8 PM.

That must be him.

She adjusted her lace robe before sauntering toward the door. Annie took a breath. Then another. Her hands were shaking, so she clenched them into fists until the trembling stopped.

She opened the door.

And there he was.

He was taller than she expected. His shoulders were broad under a simple black leather jacket that had seen better days. His jaw was sharp, his features carved and angular. But what caught her attention—what made her breath catch—was his hair. Or rather, the lack of it. A buzzcut. Close-cropped, almost military-short. It made him look severe. Intense. Like a man who had nothing to hide.

His hands, she noticed, were calloused. Mechanic's hands. Hands that knew how to fix things.

But what caught her attention was his eyes. Dark. Deep. Distant. Like he was miles away and you couldn’t reach him.

He was beautiful.

Not in a polished, model way. Beautiful in a real way. Like he'd been through things. 

She forced her face into a neutral expression. "You must be Grey."

"That's me," he answered. His voice was a low, quiet rasp—like he'd been saving his words for someone worth using them on. "And you must be Annie Moon?"

She nodded, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He strolled past her into the apartment. She watched him take in everything—the floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the sparkling Seoul skyline, the sleek marble floors, and the pricey art pieces she had inherited but never really cared for. His eyes moved across the room, cataloguing everything. Calculating.

She closed the door behind her and made her way to the kitchen. Grey followed not too far behind her.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said. 

He occupied the empty seat at the kitchen island. 

"Nice place," he said. His tone was neutral. Not impressed but not dismissive.

"Thanks." She walked over to one of the cabinets where she stores her liquor. "Would you like something to drink? Wine? Whiskey?"

"Water's fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just water?"

"Working tomorrow." He answered vaguely with a shrug. "And I'm not here to get drunk."

She studied him. "Fair enough.”

She took out a glass and walked over to the sink, feeling his eyes on her back. The robe was thin. She knew he could see the outline of her body through it. That was the point.

She returned with two glasses: one filled with water for him and the other with wine for herself.

He stared at her, head tilted slightly, when she slid his glass of water.

She noticed his gaze and raised an eyebrow as she sat opposite him, taking a slow sip of her wine. "Something on your mind?" Her tone was smooth and unreadable, with a hint of something else beneath the surface. 

"You're... a lot younger than I expected," he admitted. "I half expected you to be a woman in her thirties or forties. But you don't look any older than twenty-five, to be honest.”

She let out a small laugh, seeming pleased by his observation. "I'm twenty-four, actually. And you're not what I expected either." She examined him more closely, her eyes tracing his features. "I hear most sugar babies are either college students or recent graduates. You look..."

“Older?" He finished.