"This is ridiculous," Evan mumbled, adjusting the collar of his shirt for the third time. "I feel like I am in a bad sitcom."
James lounged on his brother's bed, scrolling through his phone with casual indifference that belied his intense interest in Evan's preparations. "It is research, not a sitcom. You are helping me with dating competencies."
"By going on a fake date while you spy on me?" Evan raised an eyebrow at his twin. "There is nothing normal about this."
The brothers were in Evan's modest apartment, poles apart from the sleek, modern C7 dorm. Whereas James's living space featured cutting-edge technology and carefully curated designer furniture, Evan's home was comfortably lived-in, with bookshelves overflowing and children's artwork tacked to the refrigerator, gifts from his kindergarten students.
"Think of it as an educational event," James argued, finally looking up from his phone. "You do educational demonstrations for your students all the time."
"My students are five, and I teach them how to tie shoelaces, not how to trick women into dating my identical twin."
"There is no tricking involved!" James protested, sitting up straight. "I just want to observe how people interact without the idol factor complicating things."
Evan sighed, recognizing the sincere plea behind his brother's theatrics. Despite their identical looks, the twins had taken very different paths since James was scouted by Stellar Entertainment seven years ago for his dancing abilities and learned to sing in a soft, gentle, and distinct voice that everyone admired. While Evan pursued a traditional college route to become a kindergarten teacher, James navigated the life-consuming world of idol training, concerts, recordings, and filming.
"Fine," Evan conceded. "But we are following my rules: no earpieces, hidden cameras, or disguises. You'll sit at a different table, far enough away to observe but not eavesdrop. And no interference."
"Deal," James agreed quickly, before his brother could change his mind. "And how exactly did you find this person for the practice date? Did you tell her it is practice?"
"Muse is my school colleague," Evan explained, checking his watch. "And no, I did not tell her it is practice because it is not. It is a casual coffee between two people who might be interested in getting to know each other better."
"But you are not interested in her," James pointed out. "Since this is for my benefit."
Evan's expression turned serious. "I never said that. Muse is intelligent, passionate about education, and has a great sense of humor. Don't assume I am not genuinely interested just because I am helping you."
This gave James a pause. He hadn't thought his brother might be interested in this woman. This was absurd because the goal was ultimately to introduce Muse to him, not to make her interested in Evan.
"Let's establish the ground rules," Evan continued, oblivious to his brother's sudden discomfort. "I meet Muse at the café. You arrive fifteen minutes earlier and sit somewhere inconspicuous. You observe silently. Afterward, we'll discuss what you noticed."
"And if it goes well, we can consider the twin switch for date number two," James added hopefully.
Evan's expression made it clear what he thought of that suggestion. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, focus on learning, not plotting."
* * *
Coffee Compass was a small café between a bookstore and a vintage record shop in a quieter corner of Seoul. Evan had deliberately chosen it for its low-key atmosphere and minimal risk of encountering dedicated C7 fans who might recognize James. As instructed, James arrived early, selecting a corner table partially obscured by a decorative plant but offering a clear view of the entrance. He wore a baseball cap pulled low and non-prescription glasses, a minimal disguise that would not draw attention but might prevent casual recognition.
The café was moderately busy, with students studying and professionals meeting. Soft jazz played in the background, and the rich aroma of coffee filled the air. James ordered an Americano and opened a book he had no intention of reading, positioning himself to observe without being obvious. Evan briefly scanned the room before sitting at a table near the window. He looked relaxed and unpretentious, which James envied—no choreographed movements, no awareness of being watched, just a young man on a coffee date.
A young woman entered five minutes later, and James nearly dropped his book. Muse was not what he had expected. Instead of the conservative, scholarly type he had imagined Evan's colleague would be, she was vibrant and breathtaking. Her hair was pulled into a creative top knot, secured with colorful pins. She wore a sunshine-yellow dress with a denim jacket covered in whimsical embroidered patches. Multiple earrings lined up her ears, and when she smiled at Evan, her beautiful face lit up.
James stared, forgetting his role as an invisible observer. There was something magnetic about her presence, a natural, unfiltered energy that drew attention. Evan stood to greet her, and they shared a quick hug before sitting down. James couldn't hear their conversation from his vantage point, but he could see Muse's expressive gestures and the spontaneous laughter that accompanied them. His brother seemed unusually lively and engaged, as if he were scoring a match point.
A waitress approached their table, and Muse ordered a complex dish, using hand gestures to specify her preferences. Evan appeared amused rather than embarrassed by her detailed order, a reaction James found unexpected. He would have been mortified to give a server special requests. As their drinks arrived, James observed their body language. Muse leaned forward when Evan spoke, giving him her full attention. Evan maintained eye contact without staring, and his posture was relaxed. They were absorbed in their conversation, free of the self-consciousness that often marked James's interactions with non-celebrities.
Muse threw her head back in laughter at something Evan said, nearly knocking over her elaborate coffee creation. She caught it just in time, which sent them both into another round of laughter. The sound carried across the café, bright and uninhibited, not the polite, paced chuckle of televised variety shows, but a spontaneous reaction. James shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His brother wasn't known for being particularly funny. What could he possibly have said to elicit such a barrel of laughs?
As their conversation continued, James noticed something else unexpected. Muse was tactile, casually touching Evan's arm to emphasize points and playfully swatting his hand when he made a teasing remark. Evan didn't stiffen or pull away. James sipped his now-cold Americano, feeling increasingly more like a voyeur than a student. It was strange watching his face, or at least its identical twin, engaged in such an unfamiliar interaction. In his limited dating experiences, James was always aware of being watched, of maintaining the James image that C7 fans expected of him. He couldn't remember the last time he had a conversation where he wasn't scrutinizing his expressions and responses.
He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the interesting turn in the conversation. Muse had taken out her phone to show Evan something, and whatever she displayed made his brother's eyes widen. Struggling to appear casual, James shifted his position to get a better view of Muse's screen. Given Evan's interest, she seemed to be scrolling through photos of children engaged in some art project, likely related to her work.
Evan said something that made Muse nudge him playfully, then she put her phone away and leaned forward with increased interest. Evan seemed to hesitate, then spoke with greater animation than before. James couldn't hear the words, but he recognized his brother's body language; he was talking about something personal. Evan rarely shared details about his family or background with new acquaintances, protective of his privacy and, by extension, James's.
To James's surprise, Muse's expression shifted from one of friendly interest to one of wide-eyed astonishment. She leaned back in her chair, said something briefly, then leaned forward again with renewed curiosity. They must be talking about me, James realized. The thought was both flattering and concerning. What exactly was Evan saying? Muse's subsequent reaction was unmistakable even from a distance. She laughed, looked relieved, and made a distinct wiping-her-brow gesture of exaggerated relief. Whatever Evan had said about him, Muse's response was not the typical reaction of someone hearing about C7's James.
James's pride stirred. Was she dismissing him? Not impressed by his achievements. As their conversation continued, James became increasingly annoyed by their easy rapport. Muse was a sapient and engaging girl, the kind of person he had hoped to meet during his break, someone who could see beyond his celebrity. Yet here she was, apparently relieved that Evan was not the famous twin. After nearly an hour, Evan and Muse stood to leave. James ducked his head behind his book, not wanting to be spotted. Through his peripherals, he saw them exchange another hug, this one lingering slightly longer than their greeting. Muse said something that made Evan smile, then she bounced out of the café with the same energy she'd entered with.
Evan remained at the table, ostensibly checking his phone, but he gave James time to exit as they'd planned. James gathered his things, keeping his head down as he left, irritation and curiosity battling for dominance in his mind.