A man gripped the steering wheel of his car tightly. His name was Arkana Wijaya, a young, handsome, and highly capable lawyer. People often called him arrogant and heartless. Arka didn't care about any of that.
The only thing he cared about was breaking free from Fahri Wijaya—the owner of the law firm where he worked, as well as his grandfather. No matter how hard Arka tried, he would never be good enough in his grandfather's eyes. To his grandfather, Arka was nothing more than a tool.
But this morning, all of Arka's plans and predictions had veered wildly off course. Fahri had called him in and ordered him to pick up his fiancée-to-be.
Arka let out a bitter laugh. He didn't even know anything about her, and suddenly he had a fiancée-to-be? He couldn't even choose his own life partner. Everything had to be based on Fahri Wijaya's plans and preferences.
"Pick up your fiancée-to-be, and don't argue! Or you'll regret it." That was the threat Fahri had given Arka.
"Damn it!" Arka slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He was furious—not only at his grandfather, but also at his own helplessness.
With his jaw clenched, he started driving again toward a village. His gaze stayed fixed straight ahead as it cut across the rocky road before him. The oxygen here felt far too cheap for him to breathe, and even the air conditioning in his luxury car seemed unable to drive away the irritation burning in his chest.
Arka arrived in front of an old but charming house. He parked his luxury car in front of the yard.
Arka got out and clicked his tongue when he saw mud splattered across his car. His gaze shifted to the house in front of him. He sighed, trying to control the emotions that seemed ready to explode at any moment.
Before Arka could knock, the door opened—but instead of a person, a towering pile of clothes appeared in front of him, and then...
CRASH!
Arka fell face-first onto the floor, accompanied by a small shriek from the opposite direction.
"Ouch! My laundry!" shouted a girl with two braids.
She glared at Arka, who still looked stunned. "Hey, Mr.! Don't stand in front of the door! Look, now everything's a mess!" she snapped at Arka.
The irritation Arka had been holding in finally ignited. "I was about to knock, so of course I was standing in front of the door!" he snapped.
The girl didn't answer and began picking up the clothes scattered all over the porch.
"Are you ignoring me?" Arka asked, growing even more annoyed.
The girl sighed. "You're so talkative. Give me a hand, will you?" she said.
Arka was stunned by the attitude of the girl in front of him. He couldn't believe what he was experiencing.
"Whatever. I'm here to see someone named Linara." Arka gave up arguing with the village girl in front of him. He patted down his suit as though he couldn't allow even a speck of dust to cling to it and ruin his appearance.
"Why?" the girl asked.
Arka's brows drew together. He was already tired of dealing with such a rude and ill-mannered girl.
"That's none of your business!" Arka replied curtly.
The girl scoffed. "What an impolite guy," she muttered.
When Arka heard that, he turned around. It seemed he would be dealing with this village girl a little longer.
"I'm impolite? Aren't you the one being rude, miss?" Arka couldn't accept being called impolite when the village girl had started it in the first place.
The girl moistened her lips. "What kind of person comes to someone's house and picks a fight with the homeowner? If that's not rude, then what is?"
Arka fell silent. The homeowner? This scruffy village girl with two braids was the homeowner? Which meant... she was his fiancée-to-be?
"A-are you Linara Pradnya?" Arka asked incredulously.
"Of course. Who are you?"