Naima took a deep breath, then slowly opened the apartment door.
Her eyes scanned the hallway. Sure enough, the elevator was right at the end of the corridor—exactly like in all those K-dramas set in luxury apartments.
She stepped forward carefully, her footsteps echoing faintly against the marble floor.
At the elevator, she pressed the down button and glanced at the floor panel.
"Eighteenth floor… okay, let's just go down. Take a little walk," she murmured, adjusting her bag and the SSG flip phone in the pocket of her loose pants.
The elevator doors slid open. Inside stood a middle-aged man. Naima swallowed hard.
Ahjussi… oh no… she thought. The man wore a thick brown coat, but—unfortunately—no pants underneath.
Naima froze, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. "This is so absurdly K-drama," she muttered under her breath.
Before she could step back, the man suddenly posed dramatically, opening his coat slightly—probably intending a "comedic reveal," but it just looked ridiculous.
Naima stared at him, wide-eyed and half-laughing.
"Oh my God, are you serious? Exhibitionist? Your thing is… dwarf!" she whispered in English, confused, horrified, and amused all at once, trying to keep her voice low.
The elevator dinged softly—floor 15.
The doors opened, and a young Korean woman about Naima's age stepped forward. Her eyes widened, hands flying to her mouth.
"AHHHHH!" she screamed in Korean, high-pitched and panicked.
Naima blinked at her, then glanced back at the ridiculous man beside her.
"Ah… this dream just keeps getting worse," she sighed.
But the woman's gaze shifted to Naima, as if she too were part of this unwanted scene.
Naima gave her a small, awkward wave. "Um… hello? Uh… ne, ne?"
The pantless ahjussi simply shrugged, as if this was totally normal.
And that's when it hit Naima—she wasn't a viewer in this world anymore. She was in it.
The woman hesitated, backing away from the elevator like it was a horror movie scene.
The ahjussi pulled his coat shut again, muttering angrily in rapid-fire Korean—without subtitles.
Naima raised an eyebrow and looked away, silently thinking, I have no idea what you're saying, so… bye-bye.
She kept her cool, fiddling with her K-drama flip phone, putting a safe distance between herself and the ridiculous man.
The elevator descended with a series of soft "ding"s until it reached the lobby.
When the doors opened, the atmosphere shifted.
A security guard—an older man with graying hair and sharp eyes softened by concern—immediately noticed the commotion.
"Hey! What's going on here?!" he shouted.
In a flash, the guard grabbed the man's arm.
The ahjussi started yelling in Korean, but the guard held firm.
Naima stepped back, half-stunned, half-panicked.
Then the guard turned to her, frowning slightly, worry etched across his face. He motioned for her to follow him into the small security office by the exit.
Naima gulped. "Uh… oh… okay, I'll come," she murmured, walking slowly. Her heart pounded, but she tried to act calm—like a heroine stuck in an absurd slice-of-life K-drama.
Once seated in front of his desk, Naima raised both hands defensively.
"Sorry… I don't speak Korean," she said softly, meeting his serious but worried gaze.
The guard sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and looked at her again.
Naima sat stiffly, clutching her EZT bag in her lap, thinking: Did I end up in a K-drama or a Korean crime-comedy episode?
The pantless ahjussi was still arguing loudly in Korean, and Naima just sighed, trying to keep up with the situation—somehow funny, absurd, and a little nerve-racking all at once.
---
She sat in the tiny security office, still gripping her bag tightly.
The guard and the ahjussi were arguing again, Korean words flying everywhere like bullets.
Naima groaned quietly. "I have no idea what they're saying… and I'm not about to say something wrong and end up arrested."
Then she remembered something.
"In dramas, the main girl always uses a Korean translation app—not Google Translate, but something way more accurate," she muttered, quickly opening the purple icon on her SSG phone.
"Okay, let's see…" she said, holding up the phone toward them.
A moment later, the app translated clearly:
Guard: "Why did you enter the building without permission?!"
Man: "Please… I just wanted… ah, don't arrest me!"
Naima had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The man's tone was so overly dramatic—pure K-drama energy.
She glanced at the guard, whose expression was deadly serious. Okay, this guy's the no-nonsense type. But that old man… he's totally comic relief. Like a 50-year-old side-oppa gone wrong.
Naima decided to follow the golden K-drama rule: stay quiet, observe, react later.
The guard's voice softened slightly as he turned to her.
"Miss, did this man do anything to you?" he asked in a firm, worried tone.
Naima swallowed. Just a little panic, but she forced herself to smile calmly.
She leaned closer to her phone and spoke slowly so the translation would pick it up.
"It's okay, ahjussi," she said gently.
Then she smiled, raising both hands in a peace gesture.
"He just… showed me his 'thing,' but—uh—honestly, it wasn't scary. More like… something a kid would have."
The guard frowned, still skeptical, but relaxed slightly.
Naima sighed, patting her pocket where her pastel wallet and SSG phone were tucked away. Okay. Crisis one handled. Next mission: don't trigger another crazy ahjussi.
The pervy man kept muttering in the corner while Naima shrugged and shot the guard a look that said, I'm done with this scene.
Let's just hope this translation app doesn't mess up. Otherwise, I'm gonna end up on Korean news as the "foreign witness from hell."
---
Eventually, the guard let her go, keeping the ahjussi in custody.
Naima exhaled in relief, clutching her EZT bag as she stepped out into the cool air.
Her next destination was clear—the café she'd seen countless times in Cherry Blossom Season.
"This is it… the café with the hot barista!" she whispered, her eyes sparkling.
A grin spread across her face. "Everyone thinks he's just a worker because his manager keeps scolding him, but he's actually the owner. Classic K-drama twist."
Her sneakers squeaked softly against the wooden floor as the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.
Behind the counter stood a sweet-looking female server with long hair and shy, bright eyes.
Naima's inner drama analyst kicked in.
"Ah, she's the one secretly crushing on the barista oppa. Poor girl doesn't know he's loaded," she thought, trying not to laugh.
The server greeted her in rapid Korean.
Naima froze for a second, then whispered to her phone, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Korean—and my English isn't great either."
She smiled sheepishly and thought, Please let this not be as expensive as Starbucks. I'm not ready to drain my dream savings yet.
Her heart skipped when he appeared—the barista oppa himself.
He stood behind the counter, black hair neat, eyes warm yet magnetic, lips curved in that gentle K-drama half-smile that made time itself pause.
"Mrs. Treublut? Welcome to Enjoy Café," he said in soft, slightly accented English.