"I am enrolled in what?" Jon asked, peering over his reading glasses at the schedule on his tablet.
"Advanced Korean Cuisine with Chef Min-jun Park," Roman read from his tablet. "Our eldest member is serious about his culinary pursuits."
The members gathered in the dorm living room to review their approved activities for the first week of their break. Manager Kando distributed personalized schedules, each carefully vetted for security and discretion.
"It's at that new cooking academy in Gangnam," Jon explained, excitement in his voice. "The one with the rooftop garden where they grow their ingredients."
"Very fancy," Julian nodded approvingly. "Will you cook for us when you become a master chef?"
"If you're nice to me," Jon threatened playfully.
"I'm starting my dance workshop series tomorrow," Julian announced, bouncing on his toes. Teaching idol choreography to contemporary dancers. It should be fun!"
"I've got that composition seminar at Seoul National University," Silas muttered, looking less than thrilled about social interaction.
"The Museum of Modern Art is hosting a special exhibition on philosophical influences in contemporary art," Roman shared, two dimples stamped the excitement. "I'm attending a private viewing tomorrow."
"And I," Vic said quietly as if his assignment was the least interesting, "have been invited to the Louis Vuitton after-party as their brand ambassador." The others whistled, impressed by their prestigious activities.
"What about you, Jake?" Jon asked, noticing the youngest's unusual silence.
Jake looked up from his phone, where he had been staring at the screenshot of Tina's post. "Huh? Oh, I'm... checking out a dance academy. For inspiration."
"Dance inspiration from somewhere other than our practice room? Groundbreaking," Silas deadpanned. Before Jake could respond, the doorbell rang. Jon went to answer it, returning with Evan, James's identical twin brother.
"Hey, everyone," Evan greeted with a wave, much more subdued than his idol brother's typical entrance.
"Evan! Perfect timing," James exclaimed, throwing an arm around his twin's shoulders. "We discussed our plan to become ordinary humans during our break."
"Good luck with that," Evan laughed. "Twenty-five years haven't been enough time for you." The doorbell rang again, and Jon returned with a delivery person holding several bags of food.
"Order for James?" the deliveryman asked, looking between James and Evan in confusion.
"That's me," both twins said simultaneously, then looked at each other.
"Uh... which one ordered the jajangmyeon with extra onions?" the bewildered deliveryman asked.
"That would be me," Evan said, reaching for his wallet.
"No way," the deliveryman blurted, eyes widening. "You're James from C7!"
Evan opened his mouth to correct him when James stepped forward smoothly. "He he, I'm James. That's my twin brother, Evan." The deliveryman looked between them, clearly struggling to see any difference. "Whoa, that's crazy! You're an insane spitting image!" After the deliveryman left with a selfie and an autograph from the mochi James, the brothers distributed the food bags.
"That happens a lot?" Roman asked, accepting his portion.
"More than you'd think," Evan sighed. "Usually, I just go with it to avoid the hassle of explanation."
"Must be weird having a famous doppelgänger," Julian hopped through a mouthful of noodles.
"Weird doesn't begin to cover it," Evan said dryly. "Try being mistaken for him when his fans are feeling particularly... enthusiastic."
James suddenly straightened, an idea visibly forming. "Wait. This is perfect!"
"What is?" Evan asked warily.
"You! You're my secret weapon for Operation Courtship!"
"I'm your what now?" Evan's tone made it clear he had no interest in James's plot.
"You know how to date like a normal person," James explained, excitement building. "You can teach me!"
"I date like a normal person because I am normal," Evan pointed out reasonably.
"Exactly! You can show me how it is done. What to say, how to act...I seem to be able to do it on stage but not in life."
"I'm not giving you dating lessons," Evan said, stepping back.
"Even better," James continued as if Evan had not spoken, "we could switch places sometimes! You could go on the first date and smooth the way, then I take over once you've made a good impression!" The other members watched this exchange with varying degrees of amusement and horror.
"That," Jon said slowly, "is either the worst idea I've ever heard or an absolute genius."
"Worst," Silas voted.
"Genius," Julian countered.
"Ethically questionable," Roman added.
"Potentially entertaining," Vic observed.
Jake just shook his head, still distracted by thoughts of finding Tina.
"I am NOT pretending to be you on dates," Evan declared. "That's deceptive and weird."
"Just one time?" James pleaded. "To help me get started. I'll do anything in return."
"Anything?" Evan raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested.
"Within reason."
"Take my kindergarten parent observation day next month. I always end up signing for too many charity projects."
"Deal!" James agreed instantly, clearly not thinking through what teaching kindergarteners might entail. The twins shook hands, and the "Twin Switch" plan was officially born, for better or worse, almost certainly worse.
* * *
The next morning, Jon stood in the gleaming kitchen of the Seoul Culinary Institute, nervously adjusting his crisp white apron. Around him, eleven other students prepared their stations with varying levels of confidence, glancing at Jon with curiosity. Most seemed to be serious home cooks or professionals in the food industry, rather than idols.
"Perfect," Jon thought. "Exactly the normal experience he'd hoped for."
"Welcome, everyone," a commanding voice called out from the front of the kitchen. Chef Epicure towered over the army of cooking gadgets, his chef's whites immaculate and crisp. "This Advanced Korean Cuisine course assumes you already know the basics. We begin today with royal court cuisine, specifically, gujeolpan." Jon nodded appreciatively. The traditional nine-section platter dish was complex and beautiful, a challenge worthy of the MOMA awards.
"You'll work in pairs," Chef Epicure continued. "Find a partner." Jon looked around, welcoming anyone to approach him. Social interaction with strangers was his forte. He did not hesitate to approach people on the streets of Malta in his accented English to start conversations. Before he could move, a woman approached his station.
"Partners?" she asked.
Jon nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I'm…"
"Jon from C7," she finished for him, expression unchanged. "I know. I'm Sol."
Jon braced himself for the usual flustered fan reaction, but Sol began organizing their station briskly.
"You're not... surprised to see me here?" Jon asked cautiously.
"Should I be? Everyone eats food." She glanced at him. "Though I am curious about your interest in royal court cuisine."
"Indeed?"
"I am a food critic for Seoul Dining Monthly." She measured rice flour with precision. "Your turn to sift." Jon obediently took the sieve, intrigued by her straightforwardness. "Have you reviewed this cooking school?"
"Not yet. Research." She nodded toward the flour. "You're under sifting."
Jon corrected his technique. "So, you review restaurants? That sounds more amazing than selecting my dozen wardrobe pieces for my performances."
"It is a job." Sol moved to prepare the fillings. "Your knife skills are decent."
The miser praise from Sol was like an Olympic Gold medal for Jon.
"I cook for the members sometimes," he explained. "Nothing fancy. After our debut, before we were making big hits, our company was struggling, and I used my allowance to buy food and cook for my younger brothers."
"Less talking, more julienning," Sol interrupted, though not unkindly.
As they worked side by side, Jon's fascination mushroomed. Sol was methodical, precise, and immune to his usual handsomeness and charm. She did not smile when he attempted one of his signature dad jokes about radishes.
"Was that supposed to be humorous?" she asked, puzzled.
"It was... never mind." Jon focused on the cucumber he was slicing.
By the end of the three-hour class, their gujeolpan presentation was the best in the room, earning a rare nod of approval from Chef Epicure.
"Your technique needs refinement," Sol told Jon as they cleaned their station, "but your flavor combinations are... unexpected. In a good way."
"Thank you," his cheeks turning red flaring bombs. "Would you…" He hesitated, then remembered his dating pact. "Would you like to get coffee sometime? To discuss food, I mean."
Sol eyed him with the same careful assessment she had given their completed dish. "No."
Jon blinked, taken aback by the direct rejection.
"Coffee is terrible after tasting complex flavors," she explained. "It ruins the palate. Tea would be acceptable. Tomorrow after class." With that, she wiped down their cutting board one final time and left, leaving Jon to realize he had just locked his first date, even if his date thought it was a culinary trip.