By Friday, I had officially declared war.
Jihun's stupid honey jar sat on my counter like a taunt, gleaming in the morning sunlight. Every time I walked past it, I swear it judged me.
"Just try the honey," Halmeoni said, not looking up from her crossword. "It's good local stuff."
"I'd rather drink Yuna's bathwater," I muttered, aggressively wiping down the espresso machine.
The bell chimed.
I didn't even need to look up to know it was him. The air in the shop changed when Jihun walked in—like the calm before a storm, if the storm was a six-foot-tall nuisance with a honey fetish.
Today, he wasn't alone.
"Surprise!" Yuna sang, slamming three bakery boxes onto the counter. "We brought reinforcements!"
I eyed the boxes suspiciously. "What's in those?"
"Proof that you're emotionally constipated," she said cheerfully, flipping open the first box to reveal a cake that read "Happy 21st Birthday, Jailbait!" in looping pink icing.
I choked on my own spit.
Jihun looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. He signed something furious at Yuna, who waved him off.
"Oh relax, it's technically your birthday month," she said, then turned to me with a grin. "And since someone refuses to acknowledge attraction—"
"There is no attraction!"
"—we're here to help." She opened the second box with a flourish. "Behold: The Official Nari-Jihun Compatibility Test!"
Inside were at least two dozen honey samples, each labeled with horrifyingly specific descriptors like "Wildflower - For When You Want to Kiss But Won't Admit It" and "Buckwheat - For Passive-Aggressive Flirting."
I stared at them. "This is harassment."
Jihun, the absolute menace, picked up the jar labeled "Orange Blossom - For Stubborn Tea Shop Owners" and placed it directly in front of me.
Yuna clapped her hands. "And for the grand finale—" She opened the third box.
Ssukda immediately leapt onto the counter, her one good ear twitching with interest.
"No," I said.
Yuna ignored me, pulling out a tiny cat-sized sweater that read "Team Jihun" in glittery letters.
"Absolutely not."
Ssukda purred as Yuna wrestled her into it.
Halmeoni, the traitor, snapped a photo. "For the wedding slideshow."
"There will be no wedding!"
Jihun, who had been suspiciously quiet, slid a note across the counter:
There might be if you try the honey.
I grabbed the nearest spoon. "Fine. But when I hate it, you all have to leave. Forever."
I dunked the spoon into the jar with unnecessary force and took a dramatic bite—
—and immediately regretted everything.
It was perfect. Rich and floral with just the right amount of sweetness, the kind of honey that made you want to write bad poetry or confess your deepest secrets.
My traitorous taste buds practically sang.
Yuna's grin turned evil. "Well?"
I swallowed hard. "It's... tolerable."
Jihun's eyes lit up like I'd just declared undying love.
Ssukda sneezed in agreement.
Halmeoni poured herself more tea. "I give it two months max."
I pointed at the door. "Get. Out."
But as Jihun turned to leave, I might have slipped the honey jar under the counter.
Just for research purposes.
---
Monday mornings were supposed to be for sleeping in, not for hauling myself across Seoul to submit paperwork like some kind of medieval peasant delivering taxes to the king.
I glared at the "Student Scholar Progress Report" in my hands as if it had personally offended me. (It had.)
"Stop scowling at the paper," Halmeoni said, sliding a to-go cup of honey lemon tea across the counter. "It's not going to magically fill itself out."
"It should," I muttered, stuffing it into my bag. "I'm a scholar. Shouldn't that mean I get, like, a lackey to handle this stuff for me?"
Halmeoni snorted. "You're a scholarship student, not an heir."
I was a scholarship student—a full-ride one at Seoul National University, no less. The kind of opportunity that made people's eyes widen when I mentioned it. "Oh, SNU? Wow, you must be really smart."
(Translation: "Wow, you must be really poor.")
The catch? Maintain a 3.8 GPA while running a failing tea shop.
Easy.
...If by easy, I meant "I haven't slept properly in two years."
I chugged the rest of my tea. "If I'm not back by three, assume the administration office sacrificed me to their paperwork gods."
"Bring me back a souvenir if they do," Halmeoni called after me.
SNU Campus - 10:17 AM
The moment I stepped past the university gates, my shoulders tensed.
SNU was nice. Too nice. The kind of place where the sidewalks were suspiciously clean, the trees were trimmed into obedient shapes, and every building looked like it belonged in a "Top 10 Most Prestigious Universities" brochure.
My shoes had a suspicious stain that might've been matcha powder or cat vomit.
I beelined for the Business Administration building, dodging clusters of students who all looked like they'd stepped out of a K-drama casting call.
"Ugh, Professor Kim gave us another twenty-page case study—"
"—heard the internship at Park Group is basically a warzone—"
"—no, I can't go out tonight, I have a stock market simulation thing—"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Future chaebols.
The administration office was its usual circle of bureaucratic hell.
"Miss Kang!" The secretary—a woman who'd probably been here since the Joseon dynasty—greeted me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Here to submit your midterm project?"
I handed over my USB drive. "And the scholarship form."
She took it, squinting at the paperwork. "Ah, yes. You're one of our special cases."
My jaw clenched. Special case. Code for "poor kid we let in for diversity points."
"Just need it signed," I said flatly.
She hummed, stamping the paper with unnecessary force. "You know, most scholarship students live on campus. Participate in clubs. Network."
"I network fine," I lied. Unless "networking" meant arguing with Jihun over honey varieties or bribing Ssukda with treats to stop knocking over teacups.
The secretary sighed like I'd personally disappointed her ancestors and handed back the form. "Your advisor wants to see you. Something about your online course credits."
Fantastic.
Business Administration Building - 3rd Floor
I was halfway to Professor Lee's office when a familiar laugh echoed down the hallway.
A very chaotic, very unmistakable laugh.
No. Way.
I ducked behind a potted plant (a very mature hiding spot) just in time to see Yuna skip past, arm-in-arm with—
Oh.
Oh no.
Jihun.
Jihun was here.
At SNU.
Wearing an SNU hoodie.
My brain short-circuited.
Yuna was saying something, waving her hands dramatically, while Jihun signed back with the long-suffering expression of someone who'd been dealing with her nonsense for years.
They turned down the hallway labeled "Park Group Executive Leadership Program."
I stayed frozen behind the plant for a solid thirty seconds.
Jihun went here?
To the same stupidly prestigious university I did?
And he was in the Park Group Executive Leadership Program?
That explained the sharp suits, the way he talked about "market trends" like they were gossip, the—
Wait.
Park Group.
As in the Park Group.
As in the company THAT Chairman Park built from scratch.
As in "Oh my god, is Jihun the Park Group heir?"
My stomach dropped.
No. No way.
Jihun couldn't be the Park Group heir. Park Group heirs didn't spend their afternoons in failing tea shops arguing about honey. They didn't have to. They had butlers for that.
...Unless he was slumming it for fun.
The thought made my skin prickle.
I waited until they were definitely gone before bolting to my advisor's office, my mind racing.
This changed nothing.
So what if Jihun was some rich business heir with a trust fund and a hobby of bothering struggling tea shop owners?
Absolutely nothing.
...
But as I left campus an hour later, I might have taken the long way past the Park Group program offices.
Just to see.
And if I happened to spot a familiar tall figure through a glass-walled conference room, standing at the front giving a presentation like he owned the place—
Well.
That was his fault for existing.
---
I was halfway to the campus gates when a blur of pastel pink and energy drinks nearly knocked me over.
"Nari!" Yuna screeched, latching onto my arm like a hyperactive koala. "Oh my god, what are you doing here? Wait—don't tell me—you're stalking Jihun, right? Right?"
I choked on air. "What? No! I—I go here!"
Yuna blinked. Then blinked again. Then gasped so loud a passing professor dropped his coffee.
"YOU GO TO SNU TOO?" She clutched her chest. "HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?"
"Maybe because you never ask basic questions?" I hissed, dragging her behind a statue before she attracted more attention. "And lower your voice."
Yuna ignored me, vibrating with excitement. "This is fate. No, better than fate. This is, like… drama. The good kind. With capital letters." She leaned in, eyes sparkling. "So. You saw him, didn't you?"
I stiffened. "Saw who?"
"Jihun." She wiggled her eyebrows. "In his natural habitat."
I crossed my arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Yuna sighed like I was a particularly slow student. "Fine. I'll spell it out." She held up three fingers. "One: Jihun's in the Park Group Leadership Program. Two: He's supposed to be there, like, 24/7. Three: He skips half his classes to hang out at your sad little tea shop." She grinned. "Now do you get it?"
My stomach twisted. "So what? He's slumming it for fun?"
Yuna snorted so hard she inhaled a strand of her own hair. "Slumming it? Oh my god, no." She grabbed my shoulders. "Nari. Listen. Jihun would rather chew glass than sit through another board meeting. Your shop is his happy place."
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Happy place?
That didn't make sense. Jihun was… Jihun. Annoying, rich, infuriatingly perceptive Jihun. He didn't need a happy place. He probably had a penthouse with a happiness staff.
Yuna, meanwhile, was vibrating with barely contained gossip. "Also," she stage-whispered, "Grandpa Park hates that he keeps ditching. Like, red-faced, table-slamming hates it."
I froze.
Grandpa Park.
As in the Park Jaehyun. Founder of Park Group. The man whose face was on half the business magazines in Korea.
And Jihun was… risking that for my shop?
Before I could process that, Yuna's phone buzzed. She glanced at it and groaned. "Ugh, duty calls. Dad wants me to 'network' at some awful cocktail thing." She fake-gagged, then pointed at me. "But—this conversation isn't over. You're freaking out right now. I can tell."
I scowled. "I am not—"
"You are." She skipped backward, grinning. "And just wait till you find out the rest."
Then she vanished into a crowd of students, leaving me standing there, my mind racing.
The rest?
What rest?