My Wicked Masquerader

Every year, on the birthday of Chairman Seo of Seomyeong Group, the family hunting event takes place.

As Seol-ah, forced to become prey, wandered through the deep mountains, she encountered a man radiating a dangerous aura.

“Are you alone?”

The man was sitting lazily beside a hunted animal, smoking a cigarette. Eyes devoid of compassion or sympathy. His irises, a peculiar blend of black, gray, and blue, slowly scanned over Seol-ah. It was only then that she realized the hem of her pants was damp.

“You’re quite a handful.”

The man tied his T-shirt around Seol-ah’s waist, then suddenly slid his hands under her armpits and pulled her up.

Without hesitation, he withdrew his hands afterward.

At the sensation of that fleeting warmth leaving her, every cell in her body screamed out :Hold onto him.

“Get a grip, little miss.”

A scent—deep, heavy, vaguely damp, yet strangely sweet.The smell that awakened memories of that day in the mountains.

Seo Tae-shin. That was the man’s name.