From That Cliff Paradise Is in Sight

Romance Guide

• Setting/Genre: Modern, Crime/Underworld, Revenge
• Story Keywords: Love-Hate Relationship, Power Struggles in Love, Contract Marriage, Scheming Male Lead

Male Lead: Woo Jaebin

• Height: 188cm | Weight: 95kg
• He first picked up a knife and killed someone at the age of 14. And he killed someone he absolutely shouldn’t have. That was the beginning of his ill-fated destiny and the start of his new life as a gang member. Now, the price he demands for his revenge is—Marriage. Romantic, isn’t it?

Female Lead: Baek Seoyeon

• Height: 166cm | Weight: 53kg
• From the moment she was born, Mare Group was always a part of her life. Life insurance at birth, a scholarship foundation in school—she was a walking PR tool for the conglomerate from the very start. Then one day, a man appears, proposing a fake marriage. Unaware that he would push her off a cliff—or lead her to paradise—she takes the leap.

Read this when:

You want a romance where two people, bound by resentment and fateful love-hate relationship, fall into an inescapable love—only to ultimately set each other free.

Resonant Quote:

“Bastard. Disgustingly meticulous, cunning, petty… and romantic.”

Prologue

I killed him. I did.

The countless stains of blood on his hands, the truth of who he was—after hearing it, I couldn’t bring myself to look into his eyes anymore. I was afraid he’d see it. The way my heart pounded, ready to burst, against the scars carved into his gaze.

“When does this end?”

A fake bride. A fake marriage. Years spent drowning in tears, bound to a ledger soaked in ink and a knife stained with blood. Instead of resisting, I chose to wrap my fingers around the back of his neck, tracing the quiet pulse beneath my touch.

“That…”

His hand again. This time, under my skirt. A burning palm sliding up my ice-cold thigh.

“Not now.”

His breath brushes against my skin. Once again, I let myself be abandoned to his heavy hands, the weight of them forcing my thighs apart as I pretend to be his woman.

“Should I ask again tomorrow?”

Bastard. The word lingers on my lips, but I swallow it down. Because only in moments like this does he see me as a person—only when his hands roam my skin, when his lips claim mine.  Only when my body heats up. Only when he pushes me to the edge of that cliff.

Brutally pitiful. Desperately wretched. And, tragically… romantic.