"MR. PARK?!" I practically screeched, my disbelief echoing through the café.
The man in question didn't even flinch. Instead, he casually took the seat across from me like he had all the time in the world.
"So... you've been here the whole time?" He flashed a lazy smile, clearly enjoying my reaction.
"I—I mean, Mr. Park, what are you doing here?" My brain was still buffering, struggling to catch up with reality.
His expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his face. "WHY?! WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME?!" His voice rose dramatically, drawing stares from nearby customers.
I let out a long, exhausted sigh. Here we go again.
"Oh… it's about that. Hmm…" I trailed off, pretending to think—like I totally didn't already know what he was mad about.
"You know, heh… I told you already. I'm busy. I had other plans." I said it as calmly as I could, hoping he'd get the hint.
"NO! NO! That's unacceptable! You work for me. I'm your boss!" He jabbed a finger at me, clearly not ready to let this go.
I snorted.
"Hold up!" I pressed my palm right into his face, effectively shutting him up.
The café went dead silent.
I exhaled sharply. "First of all, I didn't sign any contract with you. We only had a verbal agreement. You're not my boss, okay?"
I flopped back into my seat, feeling my stress level spike. Here comes another headache. Fantastic.
"Second," I shot him a pointed look, "like I said before, I canceled everything. I'm busy."
His face went through five different emotions in under three seconds—shock, frustration, disbelief, anger… and then something weirdly close to betrayal. Was this guy auditioning for a drama role or what?
And then, before I could react—
"HAYSH, no! You still have so much work left to do with me. Please, just do it for me!"
His gaze drifted to my sketchbook.
Oh no.
"Oh, what's this?" His hands moved too fast.
"HEY! HEY! DON'T TOUCH THAT!" I lunged forward, but the thief had already swiped my book.
"So this is what you're doing? I see, so you're quite the artist," he mused, flipping through the pages like he owned the damn thing.
I was one second away from throwing hands.
I yanked my sketchbook back, gripping it like it was my child. "MIND YOUR BUSINESS!" My voice came out sharper than a designer's sewing needle.
And just when I thought the chaos was at its peak—
"Excuse me, Ms. Jovi, here's your Spanish latte."
The calmest voice in the world cut through our mess like a knife.
I froze.
Mr. Park froze.
We both turned slowly.
Standing there, completely unbothered, was Nam Joo, the café's barista, holding out my drink like this wasn't the most embarrassing moment of my life.
"O-Oh! Thank you!" I scrambled to take the cup, heat rushing to my face.
I bowed so fast I nearly spilled my drink. "And—I'm really sorry for causing trouble here!"
Nam Joo just nodded, looking like he'd seen worse.Honestly? I didn't doubt it.
Mr. Park, however, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, completely unrepentant.Oh, he was enjoying this.
I hated this man.
Mr. Park, however, seemed oddly relaxed—as if my attempt to escape hadn't just turned into a public spectacle.
"Nam, you're here. Glad to see your café's doing well," he said casually, like they were old friends catching up.
I blinked. "You… you two know each other?"
"Yeah," they answered in perfect unison.
Mr. Park leaned back, shrugging. "He owns the shop. I modeled for him—for free."
Nam nodded with a smile."Yup."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.Great. Just what I needed. Not only did they know each other, but that also meant they might talk about me.
Mr. Park's gaze flicked back to my sketchbook. "So, what do you do with that?" His eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity unmistakable.
I was tense. Oh no. Abort. Abort.
"She actually works as—" Nam started, but I cut him off before he could finish that sentence.
"I WAS JUST HELPING A FRIEND! AS A DESIGNER—I MEAN, AN ARTIST! SHE NEEDS HELP, AND I PROMISED HER I'D CHECK ON IT!" I blurted out, my voice an awkward mix of too loud and too defensive.
Nam gave me a look. Mr. Park smirked.I was doomed.
And just when I thought this nightmare couldn't get worse—
A growing murmur outside made my stomach drop.
I didn't even need to look. His fans had spotted him.
Paparazzi. Flashing cameras. Social media explosions.
Nope. I refused to be part of this circus.
"Your fans are here. I have to go," I said briskly, grabbing my coffee and moving fast.
I turned back to Nam, barely stopping. "Mr. Nam, Jane—B's assistant—will contact you later. B has decided to remove you from the waiting list. Goodbye."
"JOVY! WAIT—!"
Too late. I dodged as Mr. Park reached for me, twisting past him.
In his attempt to stop me—he lost his balance.
"OUCHHH!!" His dramatic yelp made me glance over my shoulder.
For a guy with so much confidence, he sure fell fast.
I bit back a laugh and kept moving.
Slipping on my sunglasses and pulling up my hoodie, I disappeared into the crowd, blending in as if I hadn't just left a famous actor sprawled on the café floor.
By the time I reached my condo, I was out of breath but safe. No camera flashes. No viral headlines. Just pure relief.
Stepping inside, I called out immediately. "Jane? Jane? Are you here?"
"Yes, Ms. B?" Jane appeared, eyes locked on her tablet, already juggling a dozen tasks.
I didn't waste time. "Get Mr. Nam off the waiting list. I'm handling his suit request myself. I might do it around midnight, but I'll need some new fabrics from that room. And caffeine. Lots of caffeine. Thanks, Jane."
"Understood, Ms. B." She didn't even blink, already dialing numbers. "We'll contact him right away. We're also preparing a statement."
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. Crisis averted.For now.
______________________________________________________________________________________
"OUCH! That woman's got brute strength—damn!" Mr. Park groaned, rubbing his chest as he staggered upright. He was still processing the hit.
Nam-Joo, still in shock, helped him up."You—you heard her, right? You heard what she said?!"
Mr. Park frowned. "Yeah, I heard. I'm off 'the list.' What the hell does that mean?"
Nam-Joo's eyes widened with realization."You heard her mention Jane, right?"
Mr. Park narrowed his eyes. "Yeah…? So?"
Nam-Joo stepped closer. "That's B's assistant. Jane works directly for them!"
For a second, the café fell silent. Then—
"Wait. WAIT. You mean... Designer B?!?THE Designer B?!"**
Nam-Joo nodded slowly.
Both men stood there, completely frozen.
Then—Nam-Joo's phone rang.
The shrill sound cut through the tension. He grabbed it quickly, still in a daze. "Hello, this is Nam… Yes… Yes… REALLY?"
Nam-Joo's entire face lit up.
He jumped into the air, nearly knocking over a chair. "BRO! Designer B is making my suit! I made it on her waiting list! Just a month away!"
Mr. Park's jaw dropped.
"REALLY?!?!"
His grin was huge at first—until reality hit.
His face fell."Wait… But she canceled my wardrobe request for my upcoming movie. I waited a YEAR for that."
He turned to the window, expression darkening.
He muttered under his breath, "Tsk… She really ran away. That girl's so annoying."
Nam-Joo eyed him. "Wait… Do you know her?"
Mr. Park scoffed, arms crossed. "Know her? She was supposed to be my makeup artist."
Nam-Joo blinked. "Makeup artist? She works for Designer B."
Mr. Park's head snapped up.
"WAIT. YOU MEAN… THE THREE Designer B?!"
Nam-Joo nodded."She's their head tailor. I met her at their workshop. I also… kind of… got her injured."
Mr. Park froze. His mind was racing."I see. Wait… HEAD TAILOR?!?"
"Yeah." Nam-Joo shrugged. "Designer B owns that building across the street. We're neighbors."
Mr. Park's eye twitched.
"WAIT. WAIT. DID YOU JUST SAY NEIGHBORS?!?!"
Nam-Joo took a slow sip of his coffee. "Yep."
Mr. Park's nostrils flared. He was seconds away from combusting."AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO MENTION THIS SOONER?!"
Nam-Joo tilted his head."Didn't think it was relevant. Until now."
Mr. Park's soul left his body.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Back at B's House
"Jane?" I called out, already bracing myself.
Her voice floated in from the other room. "You called?"
I cleared my throat, forcing a casual tone. "Did someone already send the suit I had dry-cleaned?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I stiffened. Wait. That was last week.
Jane stopped mid-step. Her gaze narrowed like a detective sniffing out a lie."Dry-cleaned? Why? Did something happen?"
Shit. This could go really bad. Think. Think. Think.
I quickly turned away from the mannequin, shielding it like it held my darkest secrets.
"O-oh, nothing happened, actually!" I waved my hand dismissively, my forced grin screaming guilty as hell."Just a small accident, hehehe…"
Lies. So many lies.
Jane's eyebrow twitched.Not good.
"Accident?" Her fingers were already flying over her tablet. "When exactly was this?"
My stomach twisted. "During the event. You know, the one I told you about." I cleared my throat. "I, uh, bumped into someone. Their suit got ruined, so I had the staff take care of it."
Silence.
Jane's fingers stilled.
Her expression shifted from mild curiosity to full-blown suspicion.
And just like that, I knew—
I was completely screwed.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"YOU WHAT?!"
Oh no. Here we go.
Jane's voice exploded like a fire alarm, probably alerting the entire neighborhood. "WHO WAS IT?! LET ME CHECK THE GUEST LIST!"
She didn't wait for my permission—her fingers were already moving at warp speed.
My stomach twisted. Please, let it be someone unimportant. Please, let it be some random rich dude with no social media presence.
Then—Jane froze.
Her fingers stopped dead. Her expression drained like she just saw the Grim Reaper himself.
"W-what? Who was it?" I asked, suddenly lightheaded.
Wordlessly, she turned the tablet toward me.
I leaned in, scanning the name.
And then—
My soul left my body.
My heart dropped straight into the abyss. The walls caved in. The air left the room.
No. No. No. NO.
Of all people—WHY HIM?!
I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe if I reopened them, the name would magically change. Maybe this was just a nightmare.
I peeked.
Nope. Still there. Still life-ruining.
I just wanted a peaceful, low-profile existence. No drama. No headlines. No billionaire-level disasters.
But fate?
Fate just flipped the table and laughed in my face.
-End-