Ha-Joon stood inside the private changing room, methodically buttoning a fresh shirt.
Clean.
Crisp.
Perfectly white.
He adjusted the cuffs, checked the collar in the mirror, expression unreadable as ever.
The door opened quietly behind him.
Seo-Jun waited near the entrance, tablet tucked under his arm.
Ha-Joon stepped out, jacket folded neatly over his arm. In his other hand was the stained shirt—coffee-dark across the front, evidence of chaos he hadn't planned for.
He held it out.
"Give this to Ji-Ah," he said calmly. "Tell her to wash it."
Seo-Jun took the shirt, blinking once. "…Sir."
"Yes."
"There's really no need for that," Seo-Jun said carefully. "You live in the same house."
Ha-Joon's eyes flicked to him.
Sharp.
Cold.
Silent.
Seo-Jun immediately straightened. "Understood."
He bowed slightly, turned on his heel, and walked out—dirty shirt folded carefully in his hands.
Ha-Joon adjusted his watch once more.
And went back to work.
--
Ji-Ah was reorganizing her desk—again—when someone stopped in front of her.
She looked up.
Seo-Jun.
He held out a neat paper bag.
Her eyes flicked to it, then back to his face. "…Is this… for me?"
"For you," he confirmed, smiling.
A tiny spark of hope lit up in her chest. She took the bag, fingers dipping inside—
And immediately stiffened.
She pulled out a folded white shirt.
A very familiar one.
With a very obvious coffee stain.
Her shoulders sagged.
"…Ah."
Seo-Jun cleared his throat politely. "Sir asked you to wash it."
She stared at the shirt for a long second, then nodded slowly, as if absorbing a great truth of life.
"I see."
"And," he added, leaning in just enough so only she could hear, "you should wash it before you come back home."
She looked up at him.
Blink.
Blink.
Then she nodded again—this time a little too dramatically. "Of course. Naturally. I was planning on doing laundry today anyway."
In her head So I'm an editor by day… and a professional dry cleaner by night. Perfect balance.
Seo-Jun straightened, still wearing that calm, pleasant smile. "Thank you, Ji-Ah."
She hugged the bag to her chest and sighed softly. "Tell him… it'll be spotless."
As Seo-Jun walked away, she glanced down at the shirt and muttered under her breath,
"At least you're expensive-looking."
--
Ji-Ah stood in front of a small neighborhood laundry shop, the paper bag hanging from her hand like a problem she couldn't drop.
The lights were off.
The sign read: CLOSED.
She groaned softly. "No… no, no."
Just as she turned away, the door slid open a few inches.
A man leaned out—middle-aged, sleeves rolled up, towel on his shoulder, eyes already tired.
"Closed," he said firmly. "Machine asleep. I'm asleep. Come back tomorrow."
She spun around. "Sir, please!"
He started to close the door.
"It's just one shirt!" she blurted out.
He paused. "One shirt is never just one shirt."
She bowed quickly. "It's very important."
He eyed her. "Important like wedding? Or important like 'boss will erase my existence'?"
She didn't hesitate. "…The second one."
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Ah. Dangerous category."
She opened the bag slightly to show him.
He leaned in, saw the stain, and clicked his tongue. "Coffee on white. You came to the right place—or the wrong one."
"So you can do it?" she asked hopefully.
"No," he said immediately. "I'm closed."
She stared at him for a second.
Then said quietly, "I'll pay five thousand won."
Silence.
He blinked.
"…Five thousand?" he repeated.
She nodded quickly. "Cash."
He looked up and down the street. Then sighed, stepping back and sliding the door fully open.
"Hurry," he muttered. "Before I change my mind."
Her eyes lit up. "Thank you!"
He grabbed the shirt and marched straight to the sink like he had a personal grudge against it.
First—hand washing.
He scrubbed hard.
"Come out," he muttered to the stain. "I said come out."
Nothing.
He frowned.
Scrubbed harder. "You're stubborn, huh?"
Ji-Ah winced. "Sir… please be gentle."
He scoffed, turned dramatically, and shoved the shirt into the washing machine. He poured detergent in with enthusiasm, slammed the lid shut, and hit start.
The machine roared to life.
He crossed his arms and nodded. "Now we wait."
Ji-Ah sat on a small stool, staring at the spinning machine like it held her future.
Please, she thought. Work.
-
Time passed.
The steady hum of the washing machine faded into the background, and before Ji-Ah realized it, her head dipped forward.
She dozed off.
"Miss."
She jolted awake.
The laundry man stood in front of her, holding the shirt.
Her heart dropped instantly. "It's… done?"
He handed it to her.
She unfolded it slowly.
The stain was still there.
Lighter—but very much alive.
Her shoulders slumped.
"Told you," he said, unimpressed. "Coffee on white doesn't forgive easily."
She sighed deeply. "So… I waited all this time for nothing."
"You didn't waste my time," he corrected, holding out his hand. "You wasted yours."
She stared at his palm, then pulled out the money and placed it there without arguing.
"Thank you anyway," she said quietly.
He pocketed it, then waved her toward the door. As she stepped outside, he called after her,
"Good luck."
She paused for a second, then nodded to herself.
--
Ji-Ah stepped into the house, the door clicking shut behind her.
She placed her helmet on the rack, dropped her keys into the tray—then looked down at the bag still clutched in her hand.
"…You really embarrassed me today," she whispered to the shirt inside.
Yuki appeared immediately, tail flicking.
Earth followed, slower but just as expectant.
She knelt, petting them both, smiling despite herself. "I'm back. I missed you."
After feeding them, her eyes drifted to the entrance.
Ha-Joon's slippers were there.
Neatly placed.
Untouched.
"So he's not home yet," she murmured, exhaling in relief.
She went into the kitchen.
Headphones on.
Music up.
She cooked like it was just her and the house—singing loudly, hips swaying, spinning as she stirred.
A spoon became her microphone.
She danced, carefree, unaware.
She didn't hear the car.
Didn't hear the door.
Didn't hear the footsteps.
Ha-Joon entered first.
Behind him were two people.
The man looked unmistakably related—shorter, softer features. same sharp bone structure dark hair—but his expression was warm, eyes smiling easily.
Beside him stood a woman.
She was beautiful in a different way—soft but striking. Long dark hair, warm tan skin, and calm, observant eyes. She carried herself with quiet confidence.
Ha-Joon stopped at the kitchen doorway.
Ji-Ah turned.
Freeze.
Her spoon slipped from her hand and hit the counter with a dull clack.
She stared.
Then plastered on the most awkward smile imaginable.
"…Sir."
She yanked off her headphones and bowed so fast her hair flew everywhere.
"L-Lunch is ready."
Ha-Joon's lips curved—barely. Almost a smile.
"Come," he said, motioning to the living room.
She followed, heart pounding.
The man stepped forward first, extending his hand. "I'm Kim Do-Hyun."
Ji-Ah blinked, then quickly shook his hand. "Park Ji-Ah."
Do-Hyun smiled wider. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard… things."
Her eyes widened. "Good things?"
He laughed. "Entertaining things."
She relaxed just a little.
Then the woman stepped forward and offered her hand too. "I'm Chayananisa Rattanachaiyaporn."
Blink.
What a name.
''But you can Just call me Nisa, Everyone does.'' She added.
Her accent was soft, musical.
Ji-Ah shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"I'm from Thailand, so my Name is different," Nisa added with a gentle smile. "I hope I'm not intruding."
Ji-Ah's brain short-circuited.
"Oh—no—of course not—I mean—welcome!" she said quickly, bowing again.
Do-Hyun glanced around, amused. "So you work here alone? You might be the youngest person I've ever seen survive working for him."
Ji-Ah giggled despite herself.
"And," he added teasingly, "definitely the most beautiful."
She laughed—
"Do-Hyun." Ha-Joon's voice cut in flatly.
Do-Hyun raised both hands. "Okay, okay."
Ha-Joon looked at Ji-Ah. "Juice."
"Yes, sir," she replied immediately and hurried to the kitchen.
As she poured the drinks, reality hit her.
I cooked for three people.
She glanced at the plates.
Her.
Ha-Joon.
Do-Hyun.
No extra.
Her shoulders slumped. "…Of course."
She carried the juice out, placing them carefully on the table.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, bowing again. "I didn't know there would be another guest. I only prepared food for three."
Nisa smiled warmly. "It's alright. I ate on the way."
Ji-Ah looked relieved—and guilty.
Ha-Joon said nothing, just took his glass.
Do-Hyun leaned back, grinning. "See? She's thoughtful. You're lucky."
Ha-Joon ignored him.
Ji-Ah stood there for a moment, unsure, then quietly stepped back—heart still racing, but a small smile tugging at her lips.