Arka's head suddenly began to throb—not because of the lingering impact from hitting the terrace floor earlier, but because of the bitter reality he now had to face.
"Are you really Linara Pradnya?" Arka asked again, doubting his own ears and hoping he had misheard.
The girl clicked her tongue. "Yeah, I'm Linara Pradnya, the owner of this house."
Arka examined the girl standing in front of him again. Her limp hair was tied into two braids, round glasses perched on her nose, clothes with patterns that had already faded, and even her skin looked dull and oily. Was this the fiancée-to-be his grandfather had arranged for him?
Has my grandfather gone insane? Arka cursed inwardly.
The girl who claimed to be Linara, or Nara as she was often called, glared at him irritably. "What do you want, Mr.? If you don't have anything to say, you should just go home. I'm busy."
Arka cleared his throat heavily, trying to reclaim the dignity he'd left scattered across the floor. He straightened up and smoothed out his slightly wrinkled expensive suit.
"I'm Arkana Wijaya. Fahri Wijaya's representative." Arka spoke as formally as possible to repair his impression. "And starting today... I'm your fiancée-to-be."
Nara blinked, then remembered a letter that had arrived at her house a few days earlier about an agreement between her grandfather and the letter's sender. She had assumed it was just the latest scam.
Nara laughed. "Oh, so you're the man your grandfather bragged about in that letter? Since when did the city's standards for a 'cool' man fall this far?" she taunted Arka, emphasizing the word "cool."
Arka's face flushed at her words. He was both embarrassed and furious. He moistened his lower lip, trying to hold back his churning emotions. Had he really just been mocked by a village girl like her? Him?
Even though plenty of people had called him arrogant or labeled him with other negative traits, not a single person had ever mocked a man as qualified as him. But today, Linara Pradnya had become the one exception.
"I don't know what my grandfather said in that letter, but one thing's clear: I don't want a one-sided arranged marriage like this either. I will never love a village girl like you!" he declared heatedly.
Arka, feeling his pride wounded by a girl he considered beneath him, had now uttered words he might regret someday. But he didn't care. He had said them to defend what little pride he had left.
Nara smiled mockingly, unconcerned by anything Arka had said. "Why are you talking like I'm going to agree? Remember, Mr., I'm the one who gets to choose."
Now it was Arka's turn to laugh. "You have a choice? Miss, that agreement is legal, in black and white. Which means you can't violate it whenever you feel like it."
Nara's expression, which had been openly mocking and dismissive of Arka all this time, became more defensive.
"My grandfather is dead. The agreement you're talking about should have burned with him and been buried in his grave." Nara was now more serious and firm in rejecting Arka.
Arka let out a long sigh. "If it worked that way, I wouldn't have come all the way here to pick you up, Miss Linara. Unfortunately, that clause states that even if one party dies, the agreement will be carried on by both parties' heirs. And your grandfather's heir is you," Arka explained at length.
Nara looked at Arka even more coldly. "I'll make a statement refusing the inheritance," she said firmly. She hated being forced into an arranged marriage like this. Especially when her prospective husband was an arrogant and rude man like Arka.
Arka stared straight at Linara. "Go ahead, if that means losing all your grandfather's assets—including this house."