Chef

After breakfast, the house buzzed with lazy morning energy — dishes clinking, faint music playing from the living room, sunlight slipping in through half-open curtains.

Just as Jin finished putting away the dishes, both their phones buzzed at the same time.

Mom: Come outside. Now. We’re waiting.

Jin raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh.”

YN squinted at her phone. “She didn’t use any emojis. That means business.”

They exchanged a look, then scrambled to change out of their pajamas. Jin threw on a plain beige T-shirt and black jeans, his hair still slightly tousled, and YN wore a soft yellow summer dress with her hair tied up in a ribbon.

Outside, both their moms stood in front of a small café with suspiciously wide smiles.

“Sit,” Jin’s mom said, motioning to the bench.

They sat.

YN’s mom folded her arms. “So. You two have been spending a lot of time together.”

YN looked at Jin.

Jin looked at YN.

Here it comes.

“You’re the same age. You get along well. You both cook. You even match sometimes,” Jin’s mom continued dramatically.

“You two should just get married!” YN’s mom said with a theatrical clap of her hands.

There was a pause.

Then Jin burst out laughing. “Are you serious right now?”

YN giggled, resting her hand over her mouth. “What happened to a simple brunch?”

Their moms laughed too, clearly enjoying the chaos they caused.

“It’s not that crazy,” Jin’s mom teased. “You’d have beautiful kids.”

“Umma!” Jin choked, nearly spitting out his iced tea.

They all laughed — not the awkward kind, but the good kind. The kind that comes when everyone knows it’s only mostly a joke… maybe.

---

Festival: Day 3

The sun had just started setting when the festival came alive again. This time, there was music, dancing, and — much to YN’s delight — free-flowing makgeolli and peach soju.

“I’m not drunk,” YN declared, swaying slightly as they walked toward another food stall.

Jin smirked, steadying her by the elbow. “You literally just bowed to a streetlamp and called it ‘ajusshi.’”

She gasped. “He was polite!”

They giggled the whole way back home, arms swinging loosely between them, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and night air.

When they stumbled into the house, shoes kicked off, everything felt like it was swaying in slow motion. Somewhere between Jin grabbing water and YN trying to fold a blanket she didn’t need, they both flopped onto Jin’s bed, clothes still on, laughter still echoing in the walls.

Then: silence.

Soft breathing.

Sleep.

---

The Next Morning

The sun filtered gently through the curtain, casting warm golden light across the bed. YN blinked awake slowly, head tucked into something warm.

Her heart skipped.

Jin.

He was lying beside her, fast asleep, his arm loose around her waist. His face was relaxed in sleep, his lashes long against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted in the softest way.

She didn’t move.

Just… watched for a second.

He looked peaceful. Real. Not “Worldwide Handsome” or a superstar — just Jin. Her friend. The boy who made fun of her sleepwalking, who stirred his soup like a five-star chef, who smiled when she smiled.

Her lips curled into a quiet grin.

Then, carefully, gently, she slipped out of his embrace, padded out of the room, and closed the door behind her.

By the time Jin woke up, rubbing his head and blinking at the ceiling, he had no memory of how they got to bed or… why he woke up alone in it.

“Did I sleepwalk this time?” he muttered.

Meanwhile, YN was in the kitchen, acting as if nothing happened — sipping her tea with a secret smile and the memory of his sleeping face still warm in her mind.