“Arven... do you have another meeting this morning?” Viora asked flatly, letting out a heavy sigh. A thick blanket covered her still-naked body on the bed.
Arven was already sitting up in his shorts. He reached for the nightstand, took a cigarette, and lit it with the lighter beside it. He drew in a deep drag, then exhaled thick smoke through both his nose and mouth.
“The meeting isn’t until this afternoon. This morning, I want to check the data at the VX office first. Yesterday, a client from the neighboring country asked for a partnership worth... well, a decent amount. If the prospects look good, I’ll get ready to inspect things over there,” Arven replied casually before taking another drag.
Viora furrowed her brow, feeling that Arven was hiding it from her.
“When did you accept that person’s visit? You didn’t tell me?”
Arven stood and headed for the bathroom after snatching the towel from the rack. Before going in, he turned to look at his wife.
“I forgot. You know I’ve been insanely busy lately because I’ve been dealing with that damn protest!”
Arven continued toward the bathroom. As the door was about to close, he called out...
“Oh, right. If you can, find yourself a bodyguard or personal assistant who’s good at martial arts and can escort you and Shilla wherever you go. Be careful. Anyone could be our enemy now. It doesn’t matter where!”
CLICK...
The bathroom door closed. Still curled up beneath the blanket, Viora merely let out a harsh sigh. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, hoping tomorrow would bring a different color—one that had never existed before.
Something that would make her more appreciated, make her feel more connected to this world beyond the illusory status of human rank.
The next day...
Wearing a neat suit and carrying his briefcase, Arven stepped out of his room. But just outside the door, he accidentally ran into Viora, who was about to go inside.
“Hey, Arven... are you heading out already? Um, can I ride with you? I just need to stop by my usual salon for a bit. I’ll take a taxi home later,” Viora pleaded with a cold smile.
Arven glanced at the watch on his wrist for a moment, then looked at Viora impassively.
“Sorry, I can’t. I’m running short on time. Your salon is in the opposite direction, right? For now, just use my official car. It’s fine—it’s not far, is it? Per my supervisor’s instructions yesterday, I’m using your car today.”
He actually had two other cars in his garage, but both were sports cars worth billions that only Arven himself could drive. And of course, it would be a shame to let one of his expensive cars become a casualty of a riot, right?
Because the protest had turned violent, the safety of government officials was at risk. A meeting had therefore decided that, for the time being, they were not allowed to bring their official cars while on duty. As a result, Arven decided to use Viora’s personal MPV.
“But... I’m scared, Arven. What if those protesters follow me? What if they stop me in the middle of the road?” Viora whispered, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Tsk, that’s why you should find a bodyguard instead of dumping everything on me! I’m busy, can’t you see? Just call the police if something happens. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Arven snapped, raising his voice.
Arven then left just like that, ignoring his wife as she clicked her tongue in annoyance. Viora reluctantly went into the room.
Without Arven realizing it, this was just one of many times his wife had felt neglected since he had been appointed a member of the government council a year earlier.
He almost never spent time with his family. Even when he had no official assignments, he always had an excuse involving the company. In fact, Viora was the one who had been handling his business frequently lately. She rarely went to the office, though, so perhaps she didn’t know that several clients had come by in person.
Viora sat for a moment in front of her vanity. Her hands were folded on the tabletop, her slender fingers fidgeting. Her gaze drifted toward the mirror, as if searching for an answer from another version of herself.
“Maybe Arven’s right. I should find a bodyguard. Even though I’m still learning to protect myself, and also a...” she muttered, letting out another harsh sigh before getting up to retrieve her designer handbag.