POV: Kang Min-jae
Day 2 – Saturday Evening
Setting: Min-jae's apartment, Hannam-dong
I collapse onto my couch the moment I get home, still processing what just happened.
My apartment is quiet—too quiet after the sensory assault of the last three hours. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the Han River, the evening light turning the water gold. Everything in here is exactly as I left it this morning: clean, organized, peaceful. The opposite of how I feel.
My phone sits on the coffee table, screen dark but somehow menacing. I know it's going to ring. I know Tae-hyun is going to call demanding a Day Two update, and I have no idea what to tell him.
The date was... I don't even know what that was.
Ji-won was a completely different person than the woman I had coffee with yesterday. Yesterday's Ji-won was thoughtful, sharp-witted, easy to talk to. Today's Ji-won asked me about children and marriage within the first fifteen minutes, demanded to see my phone, and calculated her share of the bill down to the exact won.
I should be relieved. This is exactly what I need—someone clearly not right for me, making it obvious this won't work, giving me an easy out after ten days with a good story about incompatibility.
Instead, I'm confused.
Because yesterday felt real. The conversation flowed, the silences were comfortable, and when she talked about wanting to write stories that matter, I saw genuine passion in her eyes. That wasn't a performance.
So what was today?
My phone rings. Of course it does.
"How's Day Two of your romantic journey?" Tae-hyun's voice is annoyingly cheerful.
"Weird."
"Weird how?"
I get up and walk to my kitchen, opening the refrigerator even though I'm not hungry. "She was really intense. Like, asking about marriage and kids intense."
"On the second date?" Tae-hyun laughs. "That's a red flag, man."
"I know it's a red flag. But yesterday she was completely different—normal, interesting, fun. Today it was like she was replaced by someone who'd read a 'How to Scare Men Away' handbook."
"Maybe she's just nervous. Some people get clingy when they're anxious."
I grab a bottle of water and lean against the counter. "It didn't feel like nervousness. It felt like... I don't know. Like she was testing me?"
"Testing you how?"
"Seeing how much I'd tolerate before I backed out." I run my hand through my hair, trying to organize my thoughts. "She asked invasive questions, moved way too fast emotionally, and invaded my personal space. Every dating red flag you can think of, she hit."
There's a pause on the line. "And you're still planning to see her again?"
"I have to. The bet—"
"Forget the bet for a second. Do you want to see her again?"
The question catches me off guard. Do I? After three hours of interrogation disguised as a date?
I think about the moment outside the subway when Ji-won asked if I was embarrassed of her. Her face had fallen, and for just a second, I saw something beneath the intensity—vulnerability, maybe. Or fear.
"I think something's going on with her," I say slowly. "Yesterday she was real. Today she was performing. I want to figure out which one is actually her."
"Or," Tae-hyun suggests, "both are her, and you're seeing the full package—good and complicated."
"That's very wise. Did Mi-sun tell you to say that too?"
"She's sitting right here and says yes, she did." There's a muffled conversation in the background, then Tae-hyun again. "Mi-sun wants to know if you're going to bail on the bet."
"Tell your wife I'm not bailing. I committed to ten days. I'm doing it for ten days."
"Even if she keeps acting like this?"
I think about that. "Maybe especially if she keeps acting like this. Because then I'll know it wasn't just a bad day."
More muffled conversation. "Mi-sun says you're either very mature or very stupid."
"Both. Definitely both."
After we hang up, I take my water to the window and stand looking out at the river. Saturday evening traffic flows across the bridges, people going to dinner, to bars, to wherever their weekends take them. Normal people doing normal dating things without bets or ulterior motives.
I pull out my phone and scroll through today's text conversation with Ji-won. The seventeen messages I sent this morning—god, what was I thinking? I came on way too strong. Enthusiastic is one thing, but seventeen texts before 8 AM crosses into obsessive territory.
Then her messages: the rapid-fire questions, the over-eagerness about photos and coordinating outfits, the compliments about my shoulders and my attractiveness.
I screenshot the conversation and send it to Tae-hyun.
Me: Look at this objectively. Who comes across worse—me or her?
Tae-hyun: You both look unhinged. It's like watching two people compete for the Clingy Olympics.
Tae-hyun: Wait. Hold on.
Tae-hyun: Min-jae. THINK ABOUT THIS.
Me: Think about what?
Tae-hyun: You sent seventeen texts this morning. She sent seventeen texts this afternoon. You asked her on a second date immediately. She asked for a third date immediately. You're both doing the SAME THING.
I stare at my phone. He's right. We've been mirroring each other's behavior—both too eager, both moving too fast, both exhibiting the exact clingy, boundary-less behavior that's supposed to be a turnoff.
**Me:** So what does that mean?
**Tae-hyun:** It means you're either perfectly matched in your mutual dysfunction, or you're both terrible at playing it cool.
**Tae-hyun:** Or—and hear me out—maybe you're both scared of something and overcompensating.
**Me:** That's too psychological for a Saturday night.
**Tae-hyun:** I'm married with a baby. All my Saturday nights are psychological now.
I set down my phone and walked to my bedroom. It's as carefully curated as the rest of my apartment—designer bedding, minimalist furniture, nothing out of place. On my dresser sits a framed photo: me with my grandmother, taken a year before she died. She's laughing at something I said, and I'm mid-speech, animated and unselfconscious.
"You look happiest when you forget to perform," she'd told me once. "When you stop trying to be what you think people want."
I wonder what she'd think of this situation. Of me dating someone for a bet, trying to prove I'm capable of a relationship when I'm not even being honest about why I'm in it.
She'd probably say I'm an idiot.
My phone buzzes. Ji-won.
Ji-won: Made it home okay?
Me: Yes. Thanks for today.
Ji-won: Sure. It was... interesting.
I stare at that message. "Interesting." The same word I used. She felt it too—the weirdness, the disconnect from yesterday.
Ji-won: Interesting good or interesting bad?
I start typing several responses and delete them all.
Interesting as in I can't figure you out.
Interesting as in you asked me about children and we've known each other for 48 hours.
Interesting as in I want to see you again despite my better judgment.
Finally, I settle on:
Me: Just interesting. Let's talk tomorrow?
Ji-won: Can't wait.
I set down my phone and go to my bathroom, turning on the shower. While the water heats up, I examine my reflection in the mirror. Same face that's opened doors my entire life. Same face that makes people assume things about me—that I'm shallow, privileged, that everything comes easy.
If I'm honest with myself, the bet isn't really about proving anything to Tae-hyun or my colleagues. It's about proving something to myself. That I can maintain a connection beyond surface-level charm. That I can show up consistently for someone even when it's uncomfortable or inconvenient.
But I can't do that honestly if I'm keeping secrets.
The guilt surfaces again, sharper this time. I should tell Ji-won about the bet. Right now, before this goes any further. Text her, explain the situation, give her the choice to walk away.
I pick up my phone three separate times while in the shower, and three times I set it back down.
Not yet, I tell myself. After a few more days. Once I know her better. Once she knows me well enough that the bet doesn't define everything.
It's coward's logic, and I know it.
I'm toweling off when my phone rings again. My mother's name appears on the screen, and my stomach drops. She has a sixth sense for when I'm doing something questionable.
"Hi, Eomma."
"Min-jae-ya. I haven't heard from you in a week. Are you eating properly? Sleeping enough?"
"Yes to both. I'm fine."
"You sound stressed. Is it work?"
"Work is good. Great, actually. I have a big pitch coming up."
"The jewelry campaign. Your father mentioned it." There's a pause. "Mi-sun told me you're dating someone."
I'm going to kill Tae-hyun's wife. "It's very new. Not really worth mentioning."
"So why is Mi-sun mentioning it?" My mother's tone sharpens. "Is there a reason you're keeping this from your father and me?"
"I'm not keeping anything from you. We've been on two dates. If it becomes something, I'll tell you."
"Two dates in two days. That sounds serious."
How does she know it was two days? Has Tae-hyun's entire family been reporting on my love life?
"It's not serious. We're just getting to know each other."
"What's her name?"
"Eomma—"
"Her name, Min-jae."
I sigh. "Ji-won. Seo Ji-won. She's a writer."
"A writer. That's interesting. What does she write?"
"Articles. For a digital magazine. She's smart, interesting—"
"But you're not sure about her."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. I can hear it in your voice." My mother's tone softens. "Darling, you don't have to pursue someone just because they're appropriate on paper. If it doesn't feel right, it's okay to walk away."
The problem is, it does feel right. At least, yesterday it did. Today I'm less certain.
"I know, Eomma. I'm just... figuring it out."
"Well, don't take too long figuring. That's your problem—you think too much. Sometimes you just have to feel."
After we hang up, I lie on my bed, still in my towel, staring at the ceiling. My mother's words echo: *Sometimes you just have to feel.*
What do I feel about Ji-won?
Intrigued. Confused. Attracted, definitely. Curious about why she's acting so differently from yesterday. Guilty about the bet. Anxious about the timeline—eight days left to make this work.
But underneath all that, there's something else. A pull. The same pull I felt at the gallery when she criticized the abstract art, and again at the coffee shop when she admitted she wanted to write stories that matter.
I want to know her. The real her, beneath whatever performance she's giving.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's a text from So-yeon in the work group chat.
**So-yeon:** Day 2 update: Min-jae is still seeing the gallery girl. Current status: confused but committed.
**Jun-ho:** I give it two more days max.
**Tae-hyun:** Actually, I'm revising my estimate. I think he might make it to day 10.
**So-yeon:** Based on what evidence?
**Tae-hyun:** Based on the fact that he's more interested in figuring her out than in running away. That's new.
I don't respond to the group chat. Instead, I open my Instagram and search for Ji-won's profile. She posted a photo yesterday—a shot of an Americano on a wooden table, afternoon light streaming through the frame. The caption: "Small moments."
I scroll through her feed. It's not the carefully curated influencer aesthetic so many people cultivate. It's thoughtful—photos of books, Seoul street corners, her apartment plants. Captions that are observations rather than declarations. This is the Ji-won from yesterday's coffee date, not today's tea house interrogation.
I double-tap the coffee photo, then immediately unlike it because that feels creepy at 9 PM on a Saturday night when we just saw each other three hours ago.
Then I like it again because who cares, we're dating, allegedly.
My phone rings immediately. Ji-won's name on the screen.
My heart rate spikes. "Hello?"
"Did you just like and unlike and relike my Instagram post?"
I can't tell if she's amused or annoyed. "Maybe. Is that weird?"
"It's very weird. I got three separate notifications."
"Sorry. I was... I don't know what I was doing."
"Were you social media stalking me?"
"Researching. I was researching you."
Ji-won laughs, and it sounds like yesterday's laugh—genuine, unforced. "Find anything interesting in your research?"
"You take good photos. And you have a lot of plants."
"I try to keep them alive. It's a work in progress."
"That's relatable." I sit up, energized by the sound of her voice. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Today at the tea house—were you nervous? Is that why you were asking so many questions?"
There's a long pause. I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line.
"Maybe," she finally says. "Sometimes I get in my head about things. Overthink. I probably came on too strong."
"We both came on too strong. I sent you seventeen texts this morning."
"That was a lot of texts."
"I'm aware. My friends have commented."
"My friend commented too. About how I'm supposed to be—" She stops abruptly. "About how I should probably pace myself better."
*Supposed to be what?* I want to ask, but I don't.
"What if we try this again?" I say instead. "Monday. Lunch. Low-pressure, casual, no intense conversations about the future."
"You want to see me again? After today?"
"Yeah. I do. If you want to."
Another pause. "I want to. But Min-jae—can we just be normal? Like yesterday?"
"Yesterday was good."
"It was." Her voice is soft now, vulnerable in a way it wasn't at the tea house. "I liked yesterday."
"So let's do more of yesterday."
"Okay. Monday lunch. Normal conversation. No marriage proposals."
"I'll try to contain myself."
She laughs again. "Goodnight, Min-jae."
"Goodnight, Ji-won."
After we hang up, I lie back on my bed, feeling better than I did an hour ago. Monday is Day Three. Almost halfway through the bet, and somehow I'm still in this, still interested, still wanting to figure out the contradiction between yesterday's Ji-won and today's Ji-won.
I text Tae-hyun.
Me: Seeing her again Monday.
Tae-hyun: You're insane.
Me: Probably.
Tae-hyun: But also maybe not. Mi-sun is pleased. She says you're "emotionally invested" now.
Me: Tell your wife to stop psychoanalyzing my life.
Tae-hyun: She says no. Also she's right. You're hooked.
I don't deny it.
I get up and walk back to the window. The Han River glitters with city lights, Seoul's endless energy reflected in the water. Somewhere out there, in her small apartment in Yeonnam-dong, Ji-won is probably overthinking this as much as I am.
Eight days left. Eight days to maintain this relationship, win the bet, prove whatever I'm trying to prove.
But for the first time, I'm not thinking about the bet. I'm thinking about Monday lunch, and whether Ji-won will show up as the woman from yesterday or the woman from today.
And which one I actually prefer.