Track 01 — The Setup (이우지)
If there was a Guinness World Record for Most Consecutively Disastrous Dates, you were convinced your name would be etched in bold letters on their website, probably next to an unflattering photo.
The first date of your streak had been bad enough to set the tone.
Date #1: A guy who spent the entire dinner explaining blockchain in excruciating detail, with the kind of smugness that implied you’d never even heard of the internet. By dessert, he was showing you a spreadsheet on his phone, explaining why you had to invest with him “before the market shifts.”
Date #2: A guy who forgot your name halfway through the night. You had introduced yourself twice, and still, at some point between appetizers and the main course, he called you Ashley. You are not, nor have you ever been, an Ashley.
Date #3: You thought he was joking when he said, “I love animals too — want to meet my lizard?” until he actually pulled a living, breathing reptile from his hoodie pocket like some kind of twisted magician. You hadn’t finished your coffee after that.
Date #4: A guy who spent the entire evening flirting with the waiter instead of you.
Date #5: And, the final straw, a guy who brought his mom to the café so she could “check you out” before they got serious. She even pulled out a notebook and asked about your “five-year plan.”
By the end of that one, you’d decided maybe romance wasn’t for you.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖
Unfortunately, Soonyoung did not share your decision.
In fact, he took it personally.
“Five bad dates in a row?” he asked one evening, sprawled dramatically across your couch as if you had committed a crime against the concept of love itself. “That’s not just a slump, that’s… that’s statistically improbable.”
You looked up from your phone. “What are you implying? That the universe has it out for me?”
“I’m implying,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows, “that you’re bad at picking men.”
You scowled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“And as your best friend—”
“You mean self-appointed best friend.”
“—as your best friend,” he continued loudly, ignoring you, “I am officially stepping in. We need an intervention.”
“I don’t need an intervention. I need a break.”
“You need someone normal.” He jabbed a finger in your direction like it was a diagnosis. “Someone who won’t ghost you, trauma dump in the first five minutes, or introduce you to their pocket reptile.”
You snorted. “And you know someone like that?”
“I do.” His grin widened in a way you didn’t trust one bit. “One of my closest friends. Solid guy. Talented. Doesn’t talk too much, but not in a creepy way. And he’s very easy on the eyes.”
That last part made you suspicious. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“There’s always a catch with you, Kwon Soonyoung.”
“Don’t overthink it.” He pulled out his phone like the decision had already been made. “Just meet him. You’ll thank me later.”
⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖
Which is how, two nights later, you found yourself walking into a quiet, warm-lit coffee shop with a knot of nerves in your stomach.
The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and roasted beans. A mellow acoustic guitar track was playing over the speakers. Your eyes swept the room, couples murmuring over mugs, students buried in laptops, the barista pulling a fresh shot of espresso. until they landed on a man sitting alone in the far corner booth.
He was dressed casually: hoodie pulled over his head, baseball cap tugged low. A laptop sat open in front of him, the faint glow reflecting in his eyes. Headphones were looped loosely around his neck, and one hand tapped at the keyboard with a steady, focused rhythm.
He looked… not like a blind date. More like someone who had been reluctantly dragged into daylight after a long time in a creative cave.
You hesitated near the counter. Is that him? Surely not.. Soonyoung had described someone “normal,” and this man had the air of someone who avoided small talk like the plague.
But then, as if sensing your presence, he looked up. His gaze met yours instantly, it was sharp, observant, not unkind but definitely guarded. After a moment of consideration, he closed his laptop and gave you a small nod.
“You’re… Y/N, right?” His voice was low, a little rough at the edges, like he didn’t use it much.
You crossed the room and slid into the booth opposite him. “Yeah. And you’re…?”
“Jihoon. Soonyoung’s friend.” He said it like a disclaimer, as though preemptively absolving himself of responsibility for being here.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖
The first few minutes were… quiet. Painfully quiet.
You ordered a drink, mostly to have something to do with your hands, and took a sip while you studied the wood grain of the table. Jihoon’s attention kept drifting toward the window, his fingers tapping faint, irregular patterns against his mug.
When you asked about his work, he gave short answers, not rude, just economical with words, like each one was carefully chosen before it left his mouth.
You were halfway through mentally drafting your Thanks but no thanks text to Soonyoung when Jihoon finally spoke again.
“Soonyoung told me you’ve had a run of bad dates,” he said suddenly, leaning back against the booth with a casualness that somehow felt intentional, like he was settling in to make an observation. “I’m assuming he’s the problem.”
It was so blunt — so unapologetically straight to the point — that it cut through the quiet like a clean guitar chord in an empty room.
You blinked at him. “What?”
He sipped his coffee, eyes fixed on you with the kind of calm that made it impossible to tell if he was joking. “The common factor in all of them Soonyoung either knew them or was involved in getting you guys "together". He either introduced you, recommended the place, or gave you advice beforehand, right?”
You opened your mouth to argue, but the memories started connecting in your head. Date #2 had been someone from his gym. Date #4 had been at a restaurant he swore by. Even Date #5. oh God.. he’d recommended because he was “A friend of a friend's friend he seems sweet though! .”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me. You think he’s been setting me up to fail?”
“I think,” Jihoon said, setting his mug down with quiet precision, “that Soonyoung thinks he’s helping. Which, in reality…” He let the sentence trail off, the corner of his mouth tugging upward ever so slightly.
The dryness, the sheer accuracy of it, it hit you so sideways that you actually laughed. Not a polite little chuckle, but a genuine, surprised laugh that made you drop your head for a second.
When you looked up, Jihoon was watching you. Not staring.... just… watching. His eyes weren’t guarded in that moment; they were curious, like he was taking note of something important.
And maybe it was just your imagination, but you thought you saw the faintest flicker of warmth there, something that softened the sharp lines of his expression.
His lips twitched again, and this time it was definitely a ghost of a smile. Small, subtle, like he wasn’t used to letting it show. But it was there.
The air between you shifted not dramatically, not in some movie scene way but in that quiet, almost imperceptible way that makes you suddenly aware of the space between two people. Of the way his knee was angled toward you under the table. Of how the low café lighting seemed to cast a faint gold glow on his skin.
You took another sip of your drink, mostly to give yourself something to do besides stare back.
For the first time in weeks, you felt your chest loosen a little.
Maybe, just maybe.... this one wouldn’t be a disaster after all.
