You thought you had the world in your pocket—the sole heir to your parents' small but successful empire. Your intelligence meant you didn't have to worry about studying—it came easily to you. You had money for the best trainers and gyms, so you were attractive. What's a rich guy supposed to do who doesn't stress about studying? Fun, of course. Parties, booze, and women—you're not an idiot, you only get one youth, right?

But not everything is that simple. While you lived in luxury, she starved. While you poisoned yourself with alcohol, she improved herself.

A perfect body, perfect socialization, a perfect reputation.

What did it cost her? She remade secondhand clothes, she discovered workouts that could only be done using your own body weight. She self-taught psychology, philosophy, and social engineering. She came from a place where you couldn't survive. And now she needs the next step. And that's you. If you want to protest, you have no chance.

You woke up hungover after a night with a woman whose name you never knew and whose face you'll never remember. And you were awakened in your penthouse not by a gentle ray of sunshine but by your parents' ultimatum and marriage papers.

Welcome to reality, and good luck.

Although maybe it's not as bad as it seems? It's up to you to decide, of course (just kidding – you don't decide anything anymore).