Finally free, she returned to her room—leaving Tiffany and her backup dancers to stew under the principal's watchful eye. They'd probably be stuck explaining themselves for hours. Knowing Principal Red, she wouldn't let them off easily.
Back in the quiet of her dorm, Yeri set the 'slightly bruised' bouquet on her sofa and pulled out the card that had been buried inside.
'I remembered you liked my rose garden. These are fresh—I picked them this morning. I hope you like them. – SK'
Yeri stared at the card, her heart tightening unexpectedly. That rose garden… it really had been beautiful. The most breathtaking she'd ever seen.
Even if things ended between her and Shin Keir—even if they were broken up—these flowers were innocent. It felt cruel to throw them away just because she didn't know how to feel.
One more thing—what did he mean by giving her another piece of jewelry? The first one could pass as a birthday gift, but this time?
Compensation? A peace offering? An apology?
Whatever it was, she intended to return it—along with his black card.
Tiffany's words echoed again in her mind, hitting too close to something she hadn't yet unraveled—because she didn't know what Shin Keir wanted.
She didn't understand it—him.
She didn't even understand why he was so determined to win her over.
Sure, she knew she was attractive. But Nina was right—Shin Keir wasn't exactly suffering from a lack of beautiful women in his orbit. The elite girls in his world were smart, powerful, talented—and probably came with more emotional maturity.
So why her?
The only logical explanation she could come up with was pride. Maybe he wasn't used to rejection, and the fact that she had initiated the break-up bruised his ego.
"That must be it," Yeri whispered, nodding to herself as she tucked the card back into the bouquet. "He just doesn't like losing."
---
That same night, in the city's most extravagant casino—where elites came to gamble away fortunes and reputations—Tristan finally managed to drag Shin Keir out to "unwind."
Luxe Vertice glittered under the warm glow of chandeliers, its marbled halls echoing with the soft chime of slot machines, laughter, and the scent of aged whiskey. The casino was legally owned by Hexion, which, by extension, meant Shin Keir himself.
Yet tonight, he wasn't there as a businessman or even a high-rolling guest.
He looked more like a villain plotting someone's downfall. Possibly his own.
Tristan cast a side glance at his friend, who looked like he was mentally disemboweling a couple across the room. The two lovebirds were cozied up at the bar, whispering sweet nothings, completely unaware of the killing intent aimed in their direction.
If not for the dim lighting and thick atmosphere of alcohol, luxury, and jazz, the couple would have probably burst into flames under Shin's gaze alone.
"I'm begging you, stop burning holes into that couple and come play some cards. Let's hit the pit, double or nothing this time," Tristan offered.
Shin finally tore his gaze away from the couple and fixed it on Tristan with all the warmth of a glacier. "This is your idea of coaxing? It's been days."
Tristan raised his hands in defense. "Look, winning back a woman is not a business merger. You can't just throw money at it and expect ROI in two hours. You need patience."
Shin didn't look convinced. He had tried contacting her. Sent gifts. Waited. Still, Yeri refused to see him.
When he'd finally decided to show his 'sincerity' by climbing her dormitory window with unresolved boundary issues, Tristan had blocked him.
"And also don't try climbing her dormitory window, you maniac. You're lucky I stopped you." Tristan pointed out, deadpan. "She'll come around eventually. Just give her space. Let her miss you."
Was that really the case? Shin doubted it.
Reports from the people he'd sent to deliver gifts said she looked fine. Suspiciously fine. No signs of emotional devastation. Not even mild heartbreak.
He'd thought about sending something even more extravagant—maybe a sports car or a designer puppy—but Tristan had stopped him again.
So Shin had settled on a pair of pink diamond earrings. Tasteful. Rare. Valuable but not too overbearing. Surely she wouldn't misunderstand that… right?
He bought them on impulse when they popped up at a private auction.
He didn't have time to dwell on it further because the lovey-dovey couple in front of them was reaching critical levels of PDA.
"Baby, you're so unfair! Why are you the only one drinking?" the woman pouted.
Her boyfriend chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Because you, my love, have the alcohol tolerance of a toddler. I'm just protecting you."
The woman sulked adorably and leaned in, whispering something before giving him a kiss on the cheek, pressing her cleavage dramatically into his chest.
"Someone kick them out." Shin looked like he ate raw bitter gourd.
Tristan had to physically restrain his laughter. "You need to stop directing your romantic rage at strangers. Just… don't look at them."
"It's disgusting," Shin scowled.
"And if your girlfriend were the one being coquettish with you, would you still find it disgusting?" Tristan teased with a grin.
Shin turned slowly, dark eyes sharp. "Are you asking for a beating? Don't compare Yeri to other women."
"Double standard much?" Tristan muttered. "Other men also admire women, pamper them, worship the ground they walk on. You're not the only love-sick man."
But Shin never cared about 'other.'
Luckily, before Shin could order a public execution—or Tristan could push further—a suited man approached and whispered something into Shin's ear. Shin nodded, and they both stood to leave.
A welcome distraction.
Inside the luxurious, soundproofed office tucked deep within Luxe Vertice, silence reigned. The only sound was the occasional rustle of paper as Shin flipped through a confidential report.
He'd recently asked his men to dig into Klaus Zhi and the Zhi Corporation. Something about Father Zhi's decision to send Yeri to work part-time at a café rubbed him the wrong way.
At first glance, the Zhi family seemed above suspicion. The corporation was successful, Klaus Zhi a competitive and respectable businessman. Unlike other elite families, they rarely hosted lavish banquets or flaunted wealth.
But the deeper Shin's team dug, the more peculiar things became.
"This is interesting," Tristan said, reading over a report. "The past year, he's been transferring large amounts of money overseas through obscure foundations and shell companies."
"And making monthly payments to a private investigator," Shin added, eyes narrowing. "Plus multiple inquiries submitted to Vulture."
Vulture, one of the mafia's more dangerous underground information brokers, wasn't someone you contacted casually.
"What's he digging for that needs both a PI and Vulture on the payroll?" Tristan frowned.
Despite using his best people, Shin's intel team could barely scratch the surface. Klaus Zhi was meticulous, with layers of obfuscation designed to keep even the most persistent snoops at bay.
But one thing was clear: Klaus wasn't training Yeri to be an heiress.
He was hiding her in plain sight.
Everyone in their circles knew Father Zhi had an only daughter who had always been sickly. Now, recovering, she was being shoved into the working world—quietly, discreetly. No spotlight. No high-profile events. Just… tucked away.
It wasn't negligence. It was protection.
"He's shielding her," Shin said softly. "But from what?"
Tristan passed over another file. "Speaking of your girlfriend… it looks like she's having her debut party this weekend."
Shin's gaze snapped to the page just as a new update arrived: Yeri had left campus and was picked up by the family chauffeur.
After reading the message, he looked into the file Tristan handed.
"No media, no press. Low-key. Just as I thought." Shin muttered. "Just close family associates and business allies."
Unusual. Most debutantes threw lavish parties to announce themselves to high society. Yeri's party was more of a whisper than a shout.
Shin's jaw set. Whatever Klaus Zhi was hiding, Shin intended to find out—and he wouldn't be left out of Yeri's life, no matter how carefully she was being tucked away.
---
"Miss, we're here," the chauffeur said politely.
Yeri looked up from her phone as the sleek car passed through the wrought-iron gates of her family estate.
Unbeknownst to either of them, a black car had followed at a discreet distance before stopping along the tree-lined road.
Inside, four men watched the Zhi car disappear behind the gates.
"Did you report to the boss?" one asked.
"Yeah. He said to stay put and keep watch. Nothing more."
"Who even is that girl?" another asked. "Didn't she refuse to get into the boss's car last time? Then ran away?"
Rig, the driver during that infamous encounter, scratched his head sheepishly. "I tried to chase her. Thought maybe I'd wait for her in an alley. Y'know… pick her up. But when I told the boss that…"
He shuddered. "He looked like he wanted to strangle me."
"You idiot." A large man with a tattoo of a tiger's face stretching across half his jaw smacked the back of Rig's head. "The boss obviously likes her. He's been sending flowers and chocolates every day. And why else would he assign four of us to keep watch and say 'never approach her'?"
"Well, looking at your mug face, even a dog would run, of course, the boss won't allow you to approach her." one of them added.
"But seriously," the tattooed man muttered. "This is the first time I've seen the boss act like this. He's never chased a woman before. Not like this."
"If she's that important," Rig said, rubbing his hands eagerly, "this could be our chance to shine! Show we can be useful!"
The others fell silent.
Then came the inevitable slap to the back of his head—again.
"Don't be stupid. We weren't told to do anything. Just watch. No wonder the boss was pissed at you."
The tiger-faced man sighed. "If only he asked me to drive that day. I'd have done a better job…"
The others exchanged knowing looks. If Shin Keir was in love, the entire mafia underworld was about to get a lot more complicated.