Morning crept into the mansion like it had something to prove.
Not quiet.
Not gentle.
But rich—
like butter melting into something expensive.
And the smell?
It drifted upstairs and wrapped itself around Ji-Ah before she even opened her eyes.
She frowned into her pillow.
"…That's not Arisoo."
Because Arisoo's cooking?
Warm. Soft. Comfort in edible form.
This?
This was layered.
Deep.
Dangerously good.
Ji-Ah blinked awake.
Sat up slowly, her brown hair a chaotic halo, quickly twisting it into a messy bun as she blinked away sleep, lashes long and dramatic like they had their own morning routine.
"…Why does it smell like a five-star hotel in here?"
She dragged herself out of bed and into the hallway, still half-asleep, still suspicious.
Downstairs—
everyone was already… functioning.
Which felt illegal.
Arisoo sat elegantly at the table, sipping tea like she'd been awake since sunrise on purpose.
Beside her—
Nikki in full uniform, bag strapped on like he was ready to conquer the academic world.
And—
Min-Hyuk, scrolling through his phone, looking far too put-together for this hour.
Ji-Ah paused halfway down the stairs.
"…Good morning, overachievers."
Nikki waved immediately.
"Good morning!"
Min-Hyuk nodded.
Arisoo smiled.
Ji-Ah squinted.
"…Who is cooking."
Arisoo set her cup down.
"Ha-Joon."
Pause.
Ji-Ah blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Come again?"
She turned toward the kitchen like someone being called into a plot twist.
And there—
by the stove—
was Ha-Joon.
Apron on.
Hair slightly messy but still unfairly perfect.
Sleeves rolled just enough.
Standing there like he belonged in a cooking magazine.
Ji-Ah stopped at the doorway.
…Oh.
That was—
That was illegal.
She leaned slightly, peeking at the stove—
then froze.
Memory clicked.
"You said you were afraid of fire…" she muttered under her breath.
And yet—
here he was.
Cooking.
Casually.
Like flames owed him respect.
Ji-Ah stepped in quietly.
Soft.
Careful.
He was focused, stirring something with slow precision—
when—
her hands lifted—
and gently covered his eyes.
"I thought you were afraid of fire," she said softly behind him. "I've never seen you cook…"
He didn't flinch.
Didn't jump.
Just—
sighed.
Like he knew.
Of course he knew.
"Ji-Ah."
Her name rolled out low.
Familiar.
He reached up, lightly holding her wrists—not removing them, just acknowledging them—before turning slowly.
She dropped her hands.
And suddenly—
he was looking down at her.
Close.
Too close.
"…Of course I can cook," he said. "The stove doesn't scare me."
A small pause.
"Only big fires."
Ji-Ah frowned immediately.
"That makes no sense."
"It does."
"No, it doesn't."
"It does."
"…You're confusing."
"And you're still standing here instead of getting ready."
She blinked.
"…Are you kicking me out of your kitchen."
"Are you hungry?"
"…Yes."
"Then go freshen up."
She stared at him.
"You're blackmailing me with food."
"Yes."
"…Wow."
A pause.
Then she nodded.
"Fine. I'll go."
She turned—
and just as she took a step—
he reached out and lightly patted her head.
"Good girl."
She froze.
Slowly turned back.
"…Don't ever say that again."
He didn't even look sorry.
Ji-Ah walked out of the kitchen, trying very hard to act normal.
Which failed immediately.
Because the second she stepped into the hallway—
she stopped.
Yoo-Na stood there.
Already dressed.
Already sharp.
Already watching.
Their eyes met.
And the temperature dropped instantly.
No smiles.
No greetings.
Just—
a silent clash.
Yoo-Na took a step closer.
"Stay away from him."
Calm.
Cold.
Precise.
Ji-Ah blinked.
Then sighed.
Actually sighed.
Like she didn't have the energy for this at 8 AM.
"…You woke up early just to say that?"
Yoo-Na's expression tightened slightly.
Ji-Ah shook her head, walking past her.
"You're wasting your time."
A small pause.
Then, over her shoulder—
"And your energy."
She didn't stop walking.
Didn't look back.
Leaving Yoo-Na standing there—
with nothing but tension—
and the fading smell of breakfast in the air
The dining table looked like a painting.
Perfect plates.
Warm food.
Sunlight spilling in like it had RSVP'd.
And at the center of it all—
Ha-Joon's cooking.
Everyone was seated now.
Even—
Yoo-Na.
Even—
Madam Kim.
Which meant one thing:
This wasn't just breakfast.
This was a meeting disguised as food.
Ji-Ah sat down slowly, eyes flicking across the table.
Arisoo.
Nikki, already halfway into his meal.
Min-Hyuk.
Seo-Yeon.
Seo-Jun.
And him.
She picked up her spoon.
Took a bite.
Paused.
"…Okay," she muttered under her breath. "That's annoyingly good."
Across from her, Ha-Joon didn't react.
But the corner of his mouth almost—
almost—
moved.
For a moment—
it was normal.
Clinking cutlery.
Soft conversation.
Nikki talking about something that made absolutely no sense but sounded very important.
Until—
Madam Kim set her spoon down.
And the air shifted.
Subtle.
But immediate.
"The wedding," she began.
Ji-Ah's hand stilled mid-air.
"It will take place in a week."
Silence.
Not shocked this time.
Just—
heavy.
Ji-Ah swallowed slowly.
A week.
Not two days.
But still—
too soon.
Way too soon.
"And," Madam continued calmly, "Ji-Ah will be in charge of arranging it. Alongside Seo-Jun."
Ji-Ah's grip tightened around her spoon.
Her first instinct?
Say no.
Refuse.
Laugh it off.
Run.
But she didn't.
Because everyone was watching.
Because Ha-Joon was sitting right there.
Because this had gone too far to pretend it hadn't started.
So instead—
she nodded.
Slowly.
"…Yes, Madam."
Her voice didn't crack.
But inside?
Something did.
She lowered her gaze to her plate.
This is my fault.
The thought came sharp.
Unforgiving.
I brought her here.
I did this.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
Now his life is going to be ruined because of me.
And Min-Ji—
that name alone made something twist uncomfortably in her chest.
Still—
she nodded again.
Like sealing her own responsibility.
"I'll handle it."
Across the table—
Ha-Joon's gaze flickered toward her.
Just for a second.
But she didn't look up.
Didn't trust herself to.
A few minutes passed.
Then—
Ha-Joon stood.
Effortless.
Composed.
"We should leave," he said. "We'll be late for work."
A glance toward—
Nikki.
"And he'll be late for school."
Nikki gasped dramatically.
"I'm not late, I'm fashionably delayed—"
"You're late," Min-Hyuk said flatly.
Chairs shifted.
People stood.
The morning resumed its motion.
Ji-Ah stood quickly too.
Too quickly.
"Yeah—right—work—important—busy—"
She grabbed her bag.
Didn't look at anyone.
Didn't wait.
Just—
left.
Outside—
the air hit her differently.
Cooler.
Sharper.
Real.
She walked straight to her motorcycle.
Helmet.
Bag.
Routine.
Safe.
Something she could control.
She paused for just a second.
Hands resting on the handlebars.
Her reflection faintly staring back at her.
"…Everything's over," she whispered under her breath.
Then—
she shook her head.
Hard.
"No."
Helmet on.
Engine started.
A roar that drowned out everything else.
And without another thought—
Ji-Ah sped off.
Leaving behind the mansion.
The breakfast.
And the mess she had only just begun to fix.