Discover Top Posts Tagged with #pledis 17

Pairing:

Baker! DK x baker! Reader

Warnings:

Fluff, both characters are competitive af, very stupidly in denial, small little angst, jealousy, overloading stress, arguments, almost passing out, FOOD XD, one-sided hate at first sight, lemme know if i missed out any

Side characters:

Seventeen's The8 and Seungkwan

W/C:

19 563

Note:

DK pics from the banner are provided by @wonustars & @facethesunflower and im so sorry for not using what you provided @tusswrites & @kyeomofhearts but i very much appreciate what you have givenn❤️

@stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee

Song:

Seventeen Masterlist

"Man, this is a bad idea..." you muttered, staring up at the wide restaurant sign gleaming in the sunlight. It was bold and inviting, everything you imagined it would be—except for one glaring problem: Seokmin stood beside you, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"You say that every day," he replied, his tone annoyingly cheerful. "But we’re still here."

You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to snap back. From the moment your parents had forced this partnership, you'd sworn to make him your rival till the end. Sharing a kitchen, let alone a dream, with him was an idea you’d never willingly entertain.

"This isn’t 'us.' It’s just... a truce until I prove I’m better," you muttered under your breath.

"Still complaining?" Seokmin teased, his tone as light as the crisp morning air. He stepped forward, pausing briefly to admire the reflection of the name in the glass doors. "You know, if you’re going to back out, now’s the time. I can handle things without you."

"Dream on," you muttered. Gritting your teeth, you pushed open the door. The scent of freshly baked pastries and the faint hum of a bustling kitchen greeted you, reminding you that no matter how much you loathed the idea, this restaurant was now your battlefield.

Inside, the restaurant was a symphony of opulence and warmth. The marble floors shimmered under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, their light refracted into delicate rainbows that danced across the high ceilings. Velvet chairs in deep emerald and royal blue were arranged around tables draped in pristine white linens, each adorned with a centerpiece of fresh flowers.

The open kitchen at the far end of the room was framed by an archway of gold-accented tiles, offering diners a glimpse of the chefs at work. Along the walls, shelves of wine bottles and cookbooks were interspersed with sleek brass sconces, casting a cozy light that complemented the grandeur of the space.

Without hesitation, you pushed Seokmin lightly away, your index finger drawing an imaginary line in the air as you looked him dead in the eye. "This is a line. You stay on your side, and I stay on mine. Deal? Deal." You didn’t wait for his response, answering for him with a sharp tone.

Seokmin blinked at you, completely flabbergasted. “Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Before, you treating me as a rival didn’t bother me. But now? You’re taking this way too far, just because we competed in the same stupid competition.”

“Sorry not sorry," you snapped, crossing your arms. "The moment I saw you, I hated you. So guess what? You’re gonna get this mood from me every single day. Better get used to it.”

His jaw dropped slightly before he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Wow. Real mature of you.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who smirked at me the entire competition like he owned the place,” you fired back.

Seokmin’s eyes narrowed, the competitive spark in them suddenly igniting. He took a step closer, invading your space with a determined glare. “Fine. You wanna hate me? Let’s see who hates the other more.”

You could practically feel the electricity in the air, the unspoken challenge hanging between you. The kitchen door swung open, and a staff member peeked through, calling out, “Uh… service starts in ten minutes. Just a heads-up.”

The moment broke, but neither of you moved. You stayed locked in a silent standoff until Seokmin scoffed and stepped back, a smug grin returning to his face.

“Ten minutes,” he said, glancing at the kitchen clock. “Plenty of time to prove I’m better at this than you.”

“Dream on,” you muttered, storming toward your station. You couldn’t deny the fire coursing through your veins. As much as you hated to admit it, Seokmin’s presence wasn’t just irritating—it was a challenge. And you thrived on challenges.

It all started with the competition.

You were born into a family of bakers, practically raised in the warm, fragrant embrace of your parents’ bakery. Dough and sugar were your childhood playmates, recipes your bedtime stories. Baking wasn’t just a skill—it was a family tradition, passed down with pride. Your parents had both earned their titles as world-class bakers in the prestigious International Bakers’ Cup, a competition held every three years. Now, it was your turn to carry the torch.

The day you nominated yourself for the competition was the proudest and most nerve-wracking moment of your life. You walked into the grand hall where the preliminary round was being held, your assistant by your side. Dressed in a pristine white bakery uniform with your name embroidered neatly over your chest, you exuded confidence—or at least tried to.

The hall buzzed with activity. Contestants from across the globe were gathered, each accompanied by their assistants, their uniforms bearing the marks of their origins. There were bakers from France with the clean elegance of Parisian couture, Japanese patissiers radiating precision, and rustic breadmakers from Italy with flour-dusted aprons. It was a melting pot of talent, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement and pride to be among them.

You glanced at your assistant, who gave you an encouraging nod. “You’ve got this,” they said, their voice steady and reassuring.

Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your chef’s hat and stepped forward to register. The air smelled faintly of butter and ambition.

And then you saw him.

Standing a few feet away at the registration table was a boy your age, dressed in a uniform that somehow managed to look effortlessly professional. His dark brown hair was slightly messy, but his movements were precise and calculated as he filled out the form. When he turned, your eyes met briefly, and something about his expression made your blood simmer. He had a smirk, the kind that screamed, I’m here to win, and I know I’m better than you.

You didn’t know his name yet, but you knew instantly that you didn’t like him.

Little did you know, that boy—Seokmin—would become the bane of your existence. The competition began, and while you focused on your craft, it was impossible to ignore him. His work was flawless, annoyingly so. Every time you glanced his way, he was plating a dessert with the precision of a surgeon or pulling a loaf of bread from the oven with an irritating look of satisfaction.

The final day of the competition came, and your name was called alongside Seokmin’s as the top two finalists. The air was electric as the judges tasted your creations—a delicate mille-feuille infused with a family-secret vanilla cream—and his, a perfectly balanced matcha opera cake.

When the results were announced, it was neither of you who took first place.

The shock of losing wasn’t easy to swallow, especially with your parents watching from the audience. But what made it worse was Seokmin’s reaction. He didn’t look disappointed. Instead, he looked at you and smirked, as if to say, This isn’t over.

And he was right. It wasn’t over—not even close.

When the competition results were announced, and your name wasn’t in the top three, your parents didn’t seem too bothered. They simply patted your shoulder and said, “You can try again in three years. It’s not the end of the world.”

You didn’t mind much either—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You’d done your best, and for now, that was enough. But what you did mind was Seokmin. A series of nagging complaints about him spilled from your lips as you returned home, and his name seemed to pepper every rant.

“That stupid smirk of his, like he knew something I didn’t! And his opera cake? Who even eats that much matcha? It was way too fancy for its own good!”

Your parents exchanged amused glances as you paced the room.

“Seokmin this, Seokmin that,” your dad finally said, raising a brow. “Who is this boy, exactly?”

“Just some annoying guy,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “He’s so full of himself, I can’t stand him!”

Naturally, your parents’ curiosity was piqued. They decided to look him up later that evening, partly because they were amused by your complaints and partly because they wanted to know who this rival of yours was.

It didn’t take them long to find him. “Seokmin,” your mother said, scrolling through the competition rankings. “He’s fourth place, one rank above you.”

You froze in the doorway, narrowing your eyes. “What about it?”

Your dad chuckled. “Relax, we’re not blaming you for losing to him. But he’s not in the top three either, so clearly, he’s not untouchable.”

Your mom clicked on his profile, diving deeper. “Interesting… He’s not from a baking family. Looks like he fell in love with baking on his own and trained under professionals. Cooking too, apparently.”

Your dad leaned over her shoulder, reading along. “Huh. So, he’s well-rounded. Baking and cooking, but not rooted in tradition like we are. That explains his… unconventional approach.”

You frowned, your arms still crossed. “He’s all technique and no soul. That’s why he didn’t win.”

Your mom gave you a knowing look. “Or maybe he has something you’re missing, and you have something he’s missing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your tone defensive.

“Just a thought,” your dad said with a shrug. But there was a glint in his eye, the kind that always made you nervous.

And that was when the gears started turning in their heads. Little did you know, this moment was the spark that would lead to their “brilliant” plan—a plan you were sure would ruin your life.

Without you or Seokmin knowing, your parents had already set their plan into motion. They discreetly reached out to Seokmin’s parents, arranging a meeting at a cozy café under the guise of a casual discussion. But it was far from casual. Over cups of coffee and light pastries, they shared their observations: how you and Seokmin excelled in opposite areas, how you could balance each other’s strengths, and how the two of you working together could be mutually beneficial—not just for your growth but for their legacy as well.

At first, there was hesitation. Seokmin’s parents weren’t sure about pairing their son with someone who seemingly couldn’t stand him, and your parents knew convincing you would be an uphill battle. But after hours of discussion, brainstorming, and a little compromise, the idea solidified: a high-class restaurant where the two of you could combine your skills.

The agreements were made, papers were signed, and soon after, planning began. A prime location was secured, blueprints were drawn up, and designers were hired. Everything was handled behind closed doors, kept entirely out of sight from you and Seokmin.

By the time you and Seokmin were even aware of the plan, it was too late.

You’d been walking home from an errand when you spotted construction workers at the empty lot a few blocks away. They were busy pouring the foundation, setting up scaffolding, and unloading building materials. At first, you didn’t think much of it—until you saw your parents standing nearby, chatting animatedly with Seokmin’s parents.

A cold dread settled in your stomach as you approached, your footsteps heavy. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on here?”

Your dad turned to you with a wide grin, as though this wasn’t a complete betrayal. “Oh, good timing! We were just about to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” you demanded, your voice sharp as you noticed Seokmin walking toward the scene from the opposite direction, looking equally confused.

Your mom gestured to the half-built structure. “This, sweetheart, is going to be your restaurant.”

“My what?!”

Before you could process their words, Seokmin arrived, his brows furrowed in suspicion. “What’s going on?”

Seokmin’s dad clapped him on the shoulder. “This is exciting news! You and… uh…” He glanced at you, clearly trying to remember your name.

“Y/N,” Seokmin said flatly, pointing at you with a look of disbelief.

“Right! You two are going to be running this place together. A high-class restaurant, showcasing both of your talents.”

Your mouth fell open, and you could see from Seokmin’s expression that he was just as horrified as you.

“What—wait—why would you do this?!” you shouted, gesturing wildly at the construction site.

“Because,” your mom said patiently, as if this were the most logical thing in the world, “you two are perfect complements. You’ll learn from each other, grow as chefs, and build something truly extraordinary.”

Seokmin’s jaw clenched. “You didn’t even ask us!”

“Of course not,” your dad said with a laugh. “You’d both have said no.”

You and Seokmin exchanged a look of mutual outrage. For the first time, you weren’t rivals—you were allies against the absurdity of your parents’ scheme.

“This is insane,” Seokmin muttered.

“Agreed,” you said, pinching the bridge of his nose. But when you turned to him, your competitive spark returned. “But if we’re stuck with this… don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you.”

And just like that, the war began.

Coming back to the present, the tension in the kitchen was palpable. With the service starting in ten minutes, you both had to focus, no matter how much you hated being under the same roof as him.

Stepping into the kitchen at the same time, you moved to your station, addressing your team with clear instructions. “Alright, we’re going to need three dozen éclairs ready within the first hour, crème brûlées prepped and torched on demand, and the sourdough croissant batches warmed and ready. Let’s keep it sharp and efficient.”

Seokmin, on the other side of the kitchen, did the same with his team, rattling off orders for main courses, appetizers, and desserts. His voice was confident and annoyingly charismatic, earning nods of enthusiasm from his staff.

But just as you finished speaking, his voice cut through the kitchen noise. “Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to him, already annoyed. “What?”

He smirked, the kind that made your blood boil. “Let’s make this a competition.”

You crossed your arms, arching a brow. “A competition?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, leaning slightly against his counter. “Whoever earns the most money out of today’s service wins this particular round.”

You tilted your head, already calculating the odds. “And what do I get if I win?”

“Name your price,” he said confidently, his grin widening. “And I’ll name my price too if I win.”

The challenge sparked something in you, and you couldn’t back down now. “Fine,” you said, stepping forward slightly. “If I win, you’re on dish duty for a week. Morning and night shifts.”

His smirk faltered just a little before he recovered. “Dish duty? Seriously? That’s it?”

You shrugged. “I’m feeling generous. For now.”

“Alright,” he said, his competitive fire fully ignited. “If I win, you have to admit that I’m better than you—publicly. Right here in the kitchen, in front of everyone.”

Your jaw tightened. “Deal.”

The air between you buzzed with rivalry as you both turned back to your teams. “You heard that, right?” you said to your staff. “We’re going to win this. Stay sharp, stay fast, and let’s make today count.”

Seokmin’s voice echoed from the other side. “Let’s show them how it’s done, people. No mistakes, no excuses!”

And with that, the clock ticked closer to opening time, the stakes higher than ever.

As the clock ticked closer to opening, your staff members worked tirelessly, each person moving with precision and focus under your direction. You were in the thick of it too, whipping cream, dusting powdered sugar, and piping delicate patterns onto desserts like clockwork.

But you knew that wasn’t enough. If you were going to beat Seokmin, you needed something that would stand out—something that would have customers lining up for seconds. So, with quiet determination, you decided to add three ambitious items to the menu, even though you knew they would drain your energy by the end of the day.

The first was an Angel Food Cake, light and fluffy with a heavenly sweetness. You planned to garnish it with fresh berries and a drizzle of homemade raspberry coulis, knowing it would be a hit among those craving something delicate yet indulgent.

The second was a Fruit Pavlova, a dessert as beautiful as it was delicious. Crisp on the outside, soft and marshmallowy on the inside, topped with a medley of tropical fruits and a dollop of lightly sweetened whipped cream. Its aesthetic appeal alone would make it fly off the shelves.

And finally, you decided to take a risk with Gata, an Armenian Coffee Cake. Its unique, nutty flavor and crumbly texture made it a dessert that stood apart from the more common pastries on the menu. You were confident it would leave an impression.

You didn’t mention a word of this to your staff, instead quietly preparing the components yourself whenever you had a spare moment. You could feel the pressure mounting as the hours passed, the heat of the ovens and the intensity of the challenge pushing you to your limits.

“Chef, do you need help with anything?” one of your staff members asked as they noticed you juggling multiple tasks.

“No, focus on the éclairs and croissants,” you said firmly, not wanting anyone to catch wind of your secret weapons.

Meanwhile, across the kitchen, Seokmin was focused on his own menu, completely unaware of the extra effort you were putting in. But knowing him, he probably had some tricks up his sleeve too.

You glanced at the clock. Five minutes to opening. With a deep breath, you placed the finished Angel Food Cake and Pavlova on a display tray, ready to present them as today’s specials. Your competitive fire burned bright as you whispered under your breath, “Let’s see if you can top this, Seokmin.”

As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the large windows, the sky shifted from dark blue to a brilliant, clear sunny blue, casting a warm glow over the restaurant. The hustle and bustle of the morning was in full swing as the staff finalized their preparations, the kitchen now alive with the hum of activity. It was time.

With a deep breath, you gave a quick nod to your staff as the door chimes jingled and the first wave of customers began to trickle in. You quickly moved to the front of the restaurant to check everything one last time.

You slid the Angel Food Cake and Fruit Pavlova onto the main dessert counter. The light, airy cake gleamed in the soft sunlight, its delicate texture promising a melt-in-your-mouth experience. The Pavlova was a beautiful sight too, its crisp, golden exterior contrasting perfectly with the vibrant mix of tropical fruits and cream on top.

Just as you were about to step back and admire your work, you glanced at the time. The lunch rush was just around the corner, and you’d promised yourself to save the Gata for later in the day. The Armenian Coffee Cake, though incredibly delicious, took time to bake properly, and you wanted to ensure it would be fresh for the afternoon crowd.

Your staff moved quickly, delivering the desserts to the first customers who sat down, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. You caught sight of a couple of patrons glancing at your desserts, their eyes drawn to the colorful fruit-topped Pavlova and the soft, pillowy texture of the Angel Food Cake.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something—the secret weapon. The Gata was going to make all the difference in the afternoon, and you needed to make sure it was perfect.

With a glance at the clock ticking toward midday, you quickly decided. The Gata would be revealed now, just before the lunch rush started, and you’d bake it fresh to order from that point onward.

“Start prepping the Gata,” you instructed one of your staff members, who nodded and quickly got to work, assembling the ingredients. You watched, feeling the excitement and pressure swirl in your stomach. This was going to be the moment.

Seokmin’s side of the kitchen was already busy as well, with his own staff hustling to meet the demand. You could almost hear his smug voice echoing in your head, challenging you silently. But you were undeterred. You had a secret weapon of your own.

As the door opened again, a fresh group of customers walked in, their eyes lighting up as they saw the dessert counter. The clock struck twelve, and you made sure the Gata was out and on display, warm and fresh, just as the crowd began to flood in.

“Today’s special, our Armenian Coffee Cake—Gata,” you announced proudly. The fragrance of toasted nuts and warm, spiced dough filled the air, and you saw customers glance at the cake, intrigued by its unfamiliar yet inviting look.

With a final glance at Seokmin’s side, you couldn’t help but smile. You had everything lined up for the afternoon, and this was going to be a showstopper. “Game on,” you muttered under your breath.

As the afternoon crowd began to pour in, the kitchen buzzed with activity, and the bakery staff clocked out one by one, their shift finally over. They’d worked tirelessly, and now it was the server staff's turn to take over, greeting customers and delivering orders. You and Seokmin, however, stayed behind in the kitchen. You were handling the last-minute orders, replenishing desserts that were running low, and staying near the cashier to keep things running smoothly.

But the extra work had taken its toll on you. Your body was exhausted, and despite the adrenaline keeping you on your feet, the fatigue was beginning to weigh you down. You had been pushing yourself all day, and now, your eyelids felt heavy.

This is your job, you told yourself. You have to stay awake, stay alert. Just a few more hours.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the tiredness as you glanced at the incoming orders. You didn’t want to let up now. Not with everything riding on this. But despite your determination, you couldn’t deny that your energy was draining fast.

As you stood by the counter, your head spinning from the exhaustion, you noticed Seokmin glancing over at you. He was deep in his own work, but then, his gaze softened for just a brief moment, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. He seemed to hesitate, then, without saying a word, stepped over the imaginary line you’d drawn between the two of you.

He walked toward you, his voice quiet but firm. “Rest at one corner,” he said, his tone unexpectedly gentle yet carrying that strict undertone that marked his working persona. “I’ll take it up from here.”

For a moment, you didn’t respond, your mind too muddled with exhaustion to form a quick retort. His words echoed in your head, and something about the way he spoke made you hesitate. You knew he wasn’t offering this out of kindness or an attempt to break your rivalry. It was just... his way of working, of taking responsibility.

And in that moment, you didn’t have the energy to argue.

You let out a soft sigh and, with a final glance at the counter, nodded. “Fine,” you muttered. Without saying anything more, you moved to the corner, leaning against the wall, your eyes slowly drifting shut. The hum of the restaurant, the clinking of plates, and the faint chatter of customers became a distant lullaby as you allowed yourself a few precious moments to rest.

Seokmin, now fully in charge of the desserts and counter, didn’t seem to mind. He worked quickly and efficiently, handling the flow of orders with precision. You couldn’t help but watch him for a moment, noticing the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way he never seemed to slow down.

Despite everything, despite the rivalry and the tension between you two, you had to admit: there was something admirable about the way he worked.

You closed your eyes, deciding to steal just a few minutes of rest, hoping it would be enough to get you through the rest of the day.

You woke up to the soft hum of closing time chatter, the restaurant staff quietly cleaning up and preparing for the end of the day. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you spotted Seokmin standing at the counter, arms crossed, with an expression that was half smirk, half triumph.

“Guess who got the highest earnings today,” he announced smugly, holding up the day’s sales report.

You blinked, your grogginess fading as you processed his words. The number at the top of the sheet was impressive, far exceeding your expectations. Despite yourself, a wave of pride washed over you. You’d worked so hard, and the result spoke for itself.

“That’s right,” he added, clearly enjoying himself. “Your desserts actually helped a lot. Looks like the competition isn’t over yet.”

You didn’t respond with a witty comeback, too caught up in your quiet satisfaction. Instead, you nodded, giving him the smallest of smiles before quickly hiding it with a sharp turn to the side.

As the rest of the staff clocked out for the night, you noticed that Seokmin stayed behind, his sleeves rolled up and his hands busy scrubbing dishes at the kitchen basin. It surprised you, but you weren’t about to let your guard down. What if he bailed the moment I left?

So you stayed too, claiming a chair near the kitchen window that gave you a perfect view of him. You leaned back, arms crossed, eyes never leaving his figure as he scrubbed and rinsed with meticulous care. His side profile was sharp under the fluorescent kitchen lights, his brows furrowed in concentration.

As you sat there, watching him in silence, your thoughts wandered to earlier in the day. That brief moment when you’d almost fainted from exhaustion. The way he had stepped over the imaginary line and told you to rest with such a soft, yet commanding tone. You hated to admit it, but something about that moment stuck with you.

The memory lingered like a stubborn echo in your head. His voice, his expression—it didn’t match the smug rival you were used to clashing with. It was... different. Almost like he cared.

The thought made your chest tighten uncomfortably, and without realizing it, you shot to your feet. The chair you were sitting on toppled over with a loud clatter, the noise echoing through the empty restaurant.

Seokmin immediately turned his head, startled, his eyebrows raised as he looked at you. “What the—are you okay?” he asked, his tone caught between concern and annoyance.

You froze, your face heating up as his gaze pinned you in place. Not wanting to explain the reason behind your sudden movement, you quickly waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. Just focus on your dishwashing,” you said sharply, turning your head away to avoid his gaze.

Seokmin rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed, before muttering, “You’re so weird,” under his breath. He turned back to the basin, resuming his work.

You leaned back in your chair, your gaze drifting toward the glass window separating the dining area from the kitchen. Seokmin’s figure moved methodically at the sink, scrubbing dishes with practiced ease. The fluorescent light reflected off the basin, casting faint shadows on his side profile.

Your mind wandered again, this time more stubbornly, replaying the moments from earlier in the day. The way he told you to rest—soft but firm, like he genuinely cared. Then his voice when he questioned you just now—startled, almost irritated. They were so different. Too different.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, annoyed at how easily your brain was running wild. It’s impossible, you told yourself. There was no way someone like Seokmin, your self-proclaimed rival, could care for you beyond necessity.

You forced yourself to analyze it logically, as you always did. When I almost fainted, I was so exhausted my brain must’ve made his tone sound softer than it really was. That’s all it was. My imagination playing tricks on me. Nothing more.

“That’s right,” you muttered under your breath, clutching onto the conclusion like a lifeline. “I was imagining things.”

Seokmin turned slightly at the sound of your voice, his brows furrowing as if to ask what you were mumbling about. You stiffened under his gaze, quickly averting your eyes and pretending to be engrossed in the corner of the room.

With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to his work, muttering, “Weird as ever.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Just focus on your dishes. The faster you’re done, the faster I can leave.”

“Trust me, I want that too,” he shot back without missing a beat.

And yet, as the rhythmic sound of running water and clinking dishes filled the quiet restaurant, you found yourself stealing another glance at him.

It doesn’t matter, you told yourself firmly. He’s just my rival. Nothing more. Nothing less.

A week passed, and things were starting to settle down in the restaurant. The daily grind became more manageable, but the reviews pouring in weren’t all sunshine and rainbows. One morning, as you sat with your parents over breakfast, they casually dropped the news.

“The restaurant’s doing well, but there are some negative comments,” your dad said, scanning his phone.

Your ears perked up immediately. “What kind of comments?”

Your mom sighed, passing you a printed review. “Most of them are about how there’s no beverage menu. Customers are saying the desserts are too dry without drinks to pair with, and even Seokmin’s food feels incomplete without something to wash it down.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You stared at the review, your pride stinging. No beverage menu? Dry desserts? You’d been so focused on perfecting your baked goods and beating Seokmin in earnings that you’d completely overlooked something as basic as beverages.

“That’s... not great,” you muttered, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. It wasn’t just about pride anymore—it was about the restaurant’s reputation.

Your mom nodded, her tone gentle but firm. “You should take this seriously. If you want to improve the business and outdo Seokmin, you need to think beyond just baking.”

You bit your lip, your mind already spinning with ideas. A beverage menu could really elevate your desserts, making them more enjoyable for customers. But there was one problem: you had no experience with drinks. Sure, you could bake a mean cake, but beverages? That was an entirely different ballgame.

Without giving away your internal panic, you glanced at your parents. “Does Seokmin know about this?”

Your dad shrugged nonchalantly. “We may have mentioned it to his parents, but who knows if he’s already working on it?”

That was all the confirmation you needed. You couldn’t risk falling behind if Seokmin was already one step ahead. The thought of him adding a beverage menu before you made your blood boil.

“I’ll handle it,” you said decisively, pushing your chair back and standing up. You weren’t about to let this slide.

The moment you got back to the restaurant, you dove into research, scouring the internet and flipping through old books your parents had lying around. But nothing felt solid. I need a professional, you realized. Someone who could guide you on creating a beverage menu that matched the level of your baked goods.

With time ticking and your competitive spirit burning, you began compiling a list of local beverage experts. Baristas, mixologists, tea masters—anyone who could teach you the basics and help you craft a menu that would leave customers craving more.

“The quicker I learn, the faster I’ll beat Seokmin,” you muttered, scribbling down potential contacts. “And when I win, I’ll make him regret ever challenging me.”

Fueled by determination, you set out to find the right expert, ready to tackle this new challenge head-on. This is my chance to prove I’m more than just a baker—and to show Seokmin who really runs this restaurant.

After a relentless week of searching, your efforts paid off when you stumbled upon two professionals who seemed perfect for the task: Seungkwan, a renowned coffee barista known for his expertise in specialty brews, and Myungho, a tea master celebrated for his knowledge of teas from around the world.

When you reached out, both were surprisingly quick to respond. Seungkwan’s message came with a sprinkle of enthusiasm:

“Can’t wait to meet you! Coffee pairs beautifully with desserts—it’s an art, trust me! Let’s make magic together!”

Meanwhile, Myungho’s reply was more composed but no less inviting:

“Tea is not just a drink; it’s an experience. I’d be happy to share my expertise with you.”

You scheduled a day to meet them both separately, and when the details were confirmed, your heart raced with excitement. This wasn’t just about improving the restaurant anymore; it was a chance to expand your skill set and, in your eyes, level the playing field with Seokmin.

“That guy might know how to cook and bake,” you muttered to yourself, a determined smile tugging at your lips. “But once I master beverages, there’s no way he’ll have the edge over me anymore.”

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of happiness as you prepared for the meetings. Seungkwan’s energy and Myungho’s calm expertise promised a balanced learning experience. You envisioned the possibilities: pairing your angel food cake with a light, fruity tea or complementing your pavlova with a perfectly brewed espresso.

This was your chance to turn the restaurant’s biggest criticism into a new strength. And, most importantly, it was another step toward proving that you could outshine Seokmin.

“I’ll learn this. I’ll perfect it. And when the customers fall in love with our beverages, Seokmin will have no choice but to admit defeat.”

You spent the rest of the day preparing for the meetings, researching coffee and tea pairings, and imagining how to integrate them into your menu. For the first time in a while, you felt a sense of hope—like you were truly taking control of the competition.

The day started like any other. You and Seokmin had gone through the morning rush, coordinating your respective kitchen teams in your usual competitive manner. By the time the afternoon lull arrived, you were already prepping for your next move, fueled by the feedback you’d received about the restaurant’s lack of beverages.

While Seokmin worked the sink, scrubbing pots and pans with his usual efficiency, you grabbed your bag, adjusting the strap over your shoulder.

“I’m heading out,” you announced, your tone clipped but businesslike.

Seokmin turned slightly, brows raised in surprise. “Heading out? That’s new.”

You rolled your eyes. “I have things to handle. Unlike you, I can multitask.”

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Right. Let me guess—you’re meeting someone to give you tips on how not to burn out halfway through the day?”

“Funny,” you shot back. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m meeting someone who can actually help improve the restaurant. Try not to miss me too much.”

He scoffed, returning his focus to the dishes. “Trust me, I won’t.”

For once, Seokmin wasn’t lying. He was genuinely surprised when, hours later, the kitchen was unusually silent. There was no intense, unrelenting stare boring into the back of his head as he worked. It felt... liberating, even if it was a little unsettling.

Taking advantage of the rare peace, Seokmin propped his phone upright against a glass jar on a nearby open shelf and started a video call with his friends, Seungkwan and Myungho.

The screen came to life with Seungkwan’s bright smile and Myungho’s calm, collected demeanor. “Seokmin!” Seungkwan greeted loudly. “How’s the restaurant life?”

“Exhausting, as usual,” Seokmin replied with a small grin. “But hey, at least I’m not being stared at like a hawk today.”

“Stared at?” Myungho asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, my partner thinks it’s her job to monitor me 24/7,” Seokmin said, shaking his head. “She’s always hanging around, making sure I don’t screw something up. But today? She said she had to meet someone and left. First time I’ve had some breathing room.”

Seungkwan laughed. “Sounds like she keeps you on your toes.”

“More like keeps me stressed,” Seokmin retorted. “Anyway, what are you guys up to?”

“Oh, we’re meeting a client,” Myungho said, his tone casual. “She wants to learn about coffee and tea pairings for her menu.”

Seokmin froze for a moment, the dish in his hand halfway to the drying rack. “A client? What kind of client?”

Seungkwan smirked. “Why, interested? Or jealous that someone might actually outshine your restaurant?”

“Hardly,” Seokmin said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just curious.”

“She’s... determined, let’s put it that way,” Myungho added vaguely, though he and Seungkwan exchanged a knowing look.

Seokmin shrugged and switched gears. “When are you guys finally coming to the restaurant, anyway?”

“Oh, now you want us to visit?” Seungkwan teased.

“Not really,” Seokmin deadpanned. “But if you insist, just don’t expect me to roll out the red carpet.”

After a few more jabs and laughs, the conversation shifted back to business. “By the way,” Myungho began, “when are we meeting to discuss your coffee and tea lessons?”

Seokmin leaned against the counter, his sleeves rolled up as he dried his hands. “Come to my place tonight. Bring alcohol. We’ll talk about it then.”

“Done,” Seungkwan said. “But you better not flake on us.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Seokmin replied with a smirk before ending the call.

As the kitchen returned to its usual quiet hum, Seokmin couldn’t help but glance at the empty spot where you usually stood.

Unbeknownst to him, you are currently sitting across from his two closest friends after they hang up, setting plans in motion that would soon take the rivalry between you and Seokmin to a whole new level.

You arrived at the quaint café where you’d arranged to meet Seungkwan and Myungho, your heart racing slightly with both nerves and excitement. Pushing open the door, you scanned the room until your eyes landed on two men seated by the window. They looked exactly like their profiles: Seungkwan with an energetic, approachable demeanor, and Myungho, composed and elegant.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you both.”

They stood up to greet you, Seungkwan extending a hand with a friendly smile. “Seungkwan. Great to finally meet you in person!”

“And I’m Myungho,” the other man said, his tone softer but equally welcoming.

Once introductions were out of the way, you all settled down, and the conversation began to flow naturally. After exchanging pleasantries and a bit of small talk, Seungkwan leaned forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. “So, Y/N, what kind of restaurant are you running?”

You sighed lightly before answering, the memory of your current arrangement surfacing. “It’s a high-class restaurant—Ambrosia. I handle the bakery side of things, but I’m also working on expanding into beverages. It’s been… an interesting experience.”

“Interesting?” Myungho raised a brow, intrigued.

You nodded, leaning back slightly. “I’m running it with another male partner. He handles the savory dishes, but he’s more of a rival than a partner. Everything feels like a competition with him, and I’m not letting him get the upper hand. Ever.”

Seungkwan and Myungho exchanged a glance at your words, a flicker of recognition passing between them, but they said nothing. Instead, Seungkwan smiled, trying to keep the mood light. “A rival, huh? Sounds intense.”

“You have no idea,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “But that’s beside the point. The restaurant is my main focus, and I’m here because I want to learn how to make beverages that complement our menu. I can’t let any weakness give him an edge.”

Seungkwan tilted his head, as if a realization was slowly dawning on him. “Wait… what’s the name of your restaurant again?”

“Ambrosia,” you replied without hesitation.

At the mention of the name, Myungho’s expression shifted ever so slightly, his mind clearly putting two and two together. “Ambrosia,” he repeated, his tone thoughtful. Then, almost imperceptibly, his lips twitched as if suppressing a knowing smile.

Seungkwan’s brows furrowed for a moment before his eyes widened, realization striking him as well. But unlike Myungho, he didn’t hide his amusement. His lips parted slightly as if he were about to say something, but after a brief glance at Myungho, he decided against it.

You didn’t notice the exchange, too caught up in your own determination. “So, let’s get started. I’m ready to learn everything I can from you two.”

Myungho nodded, his professional demeanor taking over. “Of course. Let’s begin with the basics.”

As the meeting progressed, Seungkwan and Myungho kept their knowledge of Seokmin to themselves. It was clear to them that there was history—and a fair amount of tension—between you and him. They chose not to mention it, deciding instead to focus on the task at hand. But the amused glances they occasionally exchanged didn’t escape your notice, though you chalked it up to their usual dynamic.

By the time the meeting ended, you felt confident and eager to implement what you’d learned, completely unaware of how close Seungkwan and Myungho were to Seokmin—and how this new development was about to make things far more interesting for everyone involved.

Seokmin parked his car in the garage, letting out a tired sigh. The day had been long, but knowing he was about to unwind with Seungkwan and Myungho gave him a rare moment of relief. Stepping into his house, he immediately spotted Seungkwan waving a beer bottle in the air with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Finally! The star of the show has arrived!” Seungkwan exclaimed dramatically, making Myungho chuckle softly as he lounged on the couch, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Seokmin felt a genuine warmth spread through him, the weight of the day melting off his shoulders. Dropping his car keys on the nearby counter, he kicked off his shoes and, in a playful display of energy, skipped his way toward his friends. “I missed this,” he admitted, flopping onto the couch beside Myungho.

“You missed being scolded by us, you mean?” Seungkwan teased, handing him a beer.

Seokmin rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin. “Sure, sure, let’s go with that.”

The three of them settled into the evening, sipping their drinks while discussing tea and coffee options for Ambrosia. Myungho brought his usual level of expertise, explaining the subtleties of different tea blends and how they could pair with certain desserts. Seungkwan, on the other hand, enthusiastically pitched bold coffee ideas, occasionally derailing the conversation with jokes that left Seokmin in stitches.

It was the perfect balance—Seokmin felt both productive and at ease. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the constant rivalry between you and him or the stress of running a restaurant. Here, in the comfort of his home, with his closest friends, he could simply be himself.

After the discussion wound down, the atmosphere shifted into something lighter. Seungkwan turned on music, and before long, he and Seokmin were singing loudly and dancing clumsily around the living room.

“Do you ever stop?” Myungho asked, his voice tinged with amusement as he watched the chaotic duo.

“Never!” Seokmin declared mid-spin, nearly tripping over the coffee table, which sent Seungkwan into another fit of laughter.

While they danced and sang like there was no tomorrow, Myungho leaned back in his seat, his wine glass in hand. His gaze lingered on Seokmin for a moment before his thoughts drifted back to earlier that day—meeting you at the café. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he recalled how passionately you’d spoken about your rivalry with Seokmin, completely unaware of their connection.

Taking a sip of his wine, Myungho’s mind wandered. “I wonder what will happen if Seokmin and Y/N find out what they’ve both been doing behind each other’s backs.”

He shook his head slightly, knowing it wasn’t his place to intervene. Still, the thought of the inevitable collision between your worlds was oddly entertaining.

Meanwhile, Seokmin was too busy belting out an off-key version of a pop song with Seungkwan to notice Myungho’s introspective moment. He was in his element, carefree and happy, blissfully unaware of the threads tying his rival to his two closest friends.

The past few days had been exhausting. Running the restaurant was already hard, but learning how to make coffee and tea on the side—without anyone knowing—made things worse. Handling both was overwhelming. If you didn’t know before that you weren’t good at dealing with stress, now you knew.

It hit you as you kneaded bread dough at the counter. Your mind was spinning, trying to remember brewing steps while keeping track of the baking. The stress crept up on you, making your chest tight and your throat heavy. Before you knew it, tears spilled down your face.

Your hands froze, trembling against the dough. You couldn't hold it together anymore. Saying nothing to anyone, you walked briskly to the washroom, your vision still damp with unshed tears.

Once inside, you leaned over the sink, splashing cold water onto your face, hoping it would somehow wash away the ache in your chest. But it didn’t. The longer you stayed, the more tears fell, each sob stifled but persistent. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating you as whimpers and sniffles echoed in the small space.

A sudden knock on the door startled you, cutting off the sound you were trying to hide.

"You okay in there?" Seokmin’s voice broke through the haze, making your breath hitch.

You gulped, forcing your voice to sound normal. "Yeah."

Silence followed. You assumed he had walked away, so you washed your face once more, desperately trying to scrub away the redness and tear stains. With a shaky breath, you unlocked the door, determined to pretend nothing had happened.

But Seokmin was still there. He stood leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed.

You froze for a second, your damp hands clenched into fists at your sides. Seokmin stood there with his arms crossed, eyes sharp and unreadable. The lingering silence pressed heavily between the two of you, amplifying your racing heartbeat. You'd expected him to have walked away, but there he was—waiting.

"You don't look okay," he stated bluntly, his voice lacking its usual teasing tone.

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing your face into a neutral expression.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah, well, your red eyes and puffy face say otherwise."

Heat crept up your neck at his observation. You had hoped a few splashes of water and a practiced expression would mask your emotional breakdown, but Seokmin was annoyingly perceptive at times.

"I was just... washing my face," you muttered weakly, attempting to brush past him.

But Seokmin shifted, blocking your path. "If that's true, then why did you stay in there for almost twenty minutes?" His voice softened, the edge of concern creeping in. "Come on, Y/N, what's going on?"

"I said I'm fine," you insisted, your voice cracking slightly despite your best efforts.

Seokmin sighed, dropping his arms. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. But don’t pretend like you're invincible. You look exhausted, and it’s written all over your face."

Without a word, you stepped around Seokmin, ignoring the concern etched into his face. Your feet carried you back to the kitchen, even though every part of you wanted to crumble again. You couldn't afford to stop. The restaurant wouldn't wait for your emotions to catch up.

The familiar weight of the dough grounded you as you pressed it against the floured surface. Your hands moved automatically—kneading, folding, and stretching—but your mind was a mess. The scent of yeast that usually calmed you now felt overwhelming. Each push into the dough was fueled by frustration, stress, and the lingering sting of Seokmin's words.

He didn't understand. Of course, he wouldn't.

As you worked, your shoulders tensed, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. The rhythm of your movements faltered, and a lump formed in your throat. But you pushed through it, biting down on the urge to break down again.

The staff moved around you, the clatter of trays and soft chatter filling the space, but it all faded into the background. You were in your own bubble, trying desperately to keep it from popping.

"Y/N."

Your hands stilled at the sound of Seokmin's voice behind you.

"I thought you might want this." You glanced up to see him holding out a glass of water.

The sight of him made your pulse quicken with irritation. "I don't need it," you muttered, turning back to your dough.

He didn't budge. "Drink it. You look like you're about to collapse."

"I'm not."

"Y/N," his voice was firmer now, "Stop being stubborn. You're going to break if you keep pushing yourself like this."

His words hit a nerve. Without thinking, you grabbed the dough and slammed it down on the counter. The sharp sound echoed through the kitchen, catching a few glances from the staff.

"I'm fine, Seokmin," you snapped, your voice cracking. "Just... mind your own business, okay?"

There was a moment of silence before Seokmin exhaled. "Fine. But don't say I didn't try."

You heard him walk away, but the weight of his concern lingered in the air.

You successfully lasted throughout the day, stretching your aching back as exhaustion clung to your body. The orange hues of the sky painted the room through the windows, casting a serene glow over the furniture. The silence was comforting yet short-lived.

Determined to keep going, you collected the hidden beverage-making equipment from their concealed spots and placed them onto the counter. Just as you grabbed the last tool, the door burst open, startling you.

Seokmin stormed inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the array of equipment spread before you. His gaze darkened with immediate understanding. Without a word, he marched toward you and slammed both hands on the counter beside you, effectively caging you between his arms.

"Just because of this drink-making nonsense, you’re wearing yourself out?!" His voice echoed sharply around the room, making you flinch.

But you couldn’t back down. "I was just thinking about this restaurant!" you shot back, your voice trembling with frustration.

"By sacrificing your health?!" he fired back, his anger palpable.

"Well, you aren't doing anything, so I have to do it!"

The tension exploded between the two of you, emotions clashing like a storm. Your voice cracked as anger twisted into overwhelming frustration, tears spilling down your face without permission. Seokmin's expression shifted immediately as he noticed your shaking form. The heat of the argument evaporated.

He let out a heavy sigh, ruffling his hair in frustration before stepping back, creating a cautious distance. His hesitation was evident, but he lifted a hand and awkwardly patted your head.

"Don't cry..." he muttered softly, his voice gentler now.

"How could I not cry?!" you choked out, still furious but unable to control the endless stream of tears. Your voice quivered, laced with sadness. You kept wiping your face aggressively, but the tears only kept coming.

Seokmin stood there, silent, his brows furrowing deeper with every tear you tried to conceal. After a brief pause, he spoke in a gentler tone. "I've been learning how to make drinks too," he admitted. "But I've been balancing my time properly. You don't have to take it all on by yourself."

You scoffed lightly between sobs, refusing to believe his claim entirely, though a part of you recognized the truth in his words. He suddenly gulped, seeming hesitant, before lowering himself to match your height. His hand gently wrapped around one of your wrists, stopping you from shielding your face.

"Hey," he said softly. "We'll help each other, okay?"

His voice carried a warmth that caught you off guard. Your heart skipped a beat, shocking you into silence. His earnest gaze held yours, unyielding and sincere. You widened your eyes, trying to process the unfamiliar sensation rising in your chest. Without realizing it, you nodded.

The tension in the room melted into something softer, fragile but strangely reassuring. Seokmin's lips curled into a faint smile. "Good. Now, come on," he added with a hint of his usual energy. "Let's clean this up before we end up drowning in coffee equipment."

Despite yourself, a weak laugh escaped your lips, breaking through the weight of your stress.

When you finally returned home, the dark blue night sky hung heavy outside your window. You changed into your pajamas and collapsed onto your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The day's events replayed in your mind like a relentless movie reel.

The memory of Seokmin lowering himself to your level, his hand gently grasping your wrist, and that soft, earnest voice echoed vividly in your thoughts.

Your heart betrayed you with a sudden thud at the recollection, and without warning, a squeal escaped your lips.

"No, no, no!" you muttered in disbelief, flailing your arms as you rolled aggressively across the bed.

What was it? What in the world did you see in Seokmin that made your heart skip a beat? It made no sense! He was supposed to be your rival, the one who constantly annoyed you and pushed your buttons.

"This is ridiculous," you whispered fiercely, burying your face into your pillow. "I'm just tired. That's all."

But no matter how hard you tried to deny it, the flutter in your chest lingered, and with each roll across the mattress, the truth crept closer — though you weren’t ready to admit it just yet.

Surprisingly, after that unexpected heart-skipping moment, something subtly shifted in your dynamic with Seokmin. Although you two still bickered relentlessly during baking hours—arguing over techniques, measurements, or whose pastries looked better—the atmosphere transformed once the restaurant doors closed and the staff clocked out.

When the place fell silent, it was as if an unspoken truce blanketed the room. Neither of you acknowledged the sudden change, but it was there—palpable and undeniable.

"Pass the frothing wand," Seokmin muttered one evening, focused on perfecting a latte art technique.

You handed it to him without a snarky comment, which was unusual in itself.

"Thanks," he said, sounding almost surprised by your cooperation.

The two of you worked side by side, experimenting with different coffee blends and tea infusions. Sometimes, you'd accidentally taste something bitter and grimace, prompting Seokmin to burst into laughter. Other times, he would miscalculate measurements, leading you to suppress a teasing smirk.

Despite the long hours, there was a strange sense of comfort in these late-night sessions. The tension from earlier arguments dissolved, replaced by an oddly peaceful rhythm.

"You're actually not terrible at this," Seokmin admitted one night, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Coming from you, that's practically a compliment," you shot back, but your tone was lighter than usual.

And just like that, without either of you realizing it, the boundary between rivals and reluctant partners blurred even further.

One afternoon, as you were wiping down the counters after a productive training session with Seokmin, your phone vibrated. It was a group call from Myungho and Seungkwan.

"Y/N! How's the beverage progression going?" Seungkwan's cheerful voice came through.

"Almost done," you replied proudly. "I'm confident the drinks can be added to the menu soon."

"That's great! We knew you'd get the hang of it." Myungho sounded genuinely pleased.

"Keep up the good work," Seungkwan chimed in. "What about your partner's progress? Is he pulling his weight?"

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment. How could you tell them that things between you and Seokmin had taken an unexpectedly cooperative turn? That you'd stopped glaring at each other by nightfall and now quietly supported each other's efforts? Even thinking about it made your face heat up.

"Uh... he's doing fine," you answered vaguely, hoping they wouldn't press further.

"Just fine?" Myungho's voice carried a knowing tone, clearly sensing there was more to the story.

"Anyway!" You hurriedly changed the subject. "We’ve been trying out different blends, and it’s going well."

Myungho hummed suspiciously, but before he could probe further, Seungkwan jumped in enthusiastically.

"That's amazing! Oh, by the way, Myungho and I are thinking of visiting the restaurant soon."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden announcement.

"Really?" you asked nervously.

"Yup! We want to see how our star student is doing in action," Seungkwan said cheerfully.

"Great," you forced a smile, masking your anxiety. The thought of Seungkwan and Myungho witnessing your new dynamic with Seokmin was enough to make your stomach churn.

Still, you knew there was no turning back now. Their visit was inevitable—and you'd have to face whatever awkwardness came with it.

Seokmin pushed open the door to his house, tired from another day at the restaurant. The familiar sound of chatter greeted him as he stepped inside. His eyes immediately landed on Seungkwan and Myungho comfortably settled on his sofa, sipping tea as if they owned the place.

Seokmin blinked in disbelief. "You guys are here uninvited again?"

Myungho chuckled, lifting his tea cup in a mock toast. "We missed you."

Seungkwan grinned mischievously. "Also, your partner said you're doing okay now."

Seokmin raised his eyebrows, tossing his keys onto the console as he walked toward them. "We’re interacting fine, I guess."

"Aww," Seungkwan cooed dramatically, leaning forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. "That's not what the both of you said last month though."

Seokmin rolled his eyes and lightly smacked Seungkwan's arm. "Oh, shut up. We’re co-founders. Obviously, we have to cooperate at some point."

He paused, furrowing his brows as a thought hit him. "But... she’s treating me nicer now? It’s weird. I mean, not super nice—she still throws a few clapbacks—but it’s nothing like when we first opened the restaurant."

Myungho, who had been quietly observing, set his cup down and spoke calmly. "So, do you like her now?"

Seokmin tilted his head, genuinely considering the question. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "As a person, maybe. But as a woman? Nah. She’s not exactly... woman-like. More like a whiny friend."

Seungkwan pouted dramatically, pretending to be heartbroken. "Aww, that's sad."

Seokmin gave him a flat look. "Save the drama, Seungkwan."

The day Seungkwan and Myungho finally visited the restaurant was filled with a mix of nerves and excitement. The drinks had officially made it onto the menu after countless nights of hard work, and both you and Seokmin were proud, though neither of you openly admitted it to the other.

As soon as Seokmin spotted his friends entering, his face lit up. He immediately walked out to greet them, throwing an arm around Seungkwan's shoulders and exchanging fist bumps with Myungho. You watched the scene unfold from behind the counter, your brows furrowing in realization.

"They're best friends?" you muttered to yourself, piecing it together.

It hit you like a brick—Seokmin had known all along about your secret lessons with Seungkwan and Myungho. You felt the heat rise to your face. Though you wanted to be mad, Myungho’s unreadable, knowing expression froze you in place. There was something in his eyes, something that hinted at knowledge you weren’t sure you wanted him to have. A shiver ran down your spine.

Despite the awkward revelation, the atmosphere remained light. Seungkwan and Myungho tasted your desserts and the new drinks, showering you with compliments that made all the effort feel worthwhile. They ended up staying until the restaurant closed, chatting and laughing with Seokmin in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you found yourself seated quietly at a table with Myungho, who had a calm but unnervingly perceptive air about him. The soft clinking of glasses and Seokmin’s laughter echoed from the kitchen, but the weight of Myungho's presence kept you anchored to your seat.

"So," Myungho suddenly spoke, his tone casual yet pointed, "you like our boy Seokmin?"

You choked on your saliva, coughing violently as your face turned crimson. "W-What? No! I don't—"

Desperately wanting to deny it, your voice wavered, betraying you.

Myungho raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You sure about that?"

That stopped you, making you look away as you answered with uncertainty.

"Maybe?"

Myungho hummed, casually sipping on the tea you'd made. "So you still haven't identified your feelings then. Good."

His words caught you off guard, but it was the way he said good that made you freeze.

"What does that mean?" you asked, your voice wavering.

Myungho's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Well, if you want to make this future predictable love relationship happen, lure Seokmin. In the meantime, figure out your feelings along the way." He took another sip, his expression unreadable. "He still treats you like a friend, after all. So, good luck making him fall in love with you."

Your heart raced. "Lure him? What does that even—"

My panicked words were cut off by the sound of Seokmin's laughter echoing through the restaurant. It was carefree and genuine, filling the space with warmth. Instinctively, your eyes drifted toward the kitchen window, where you caught sight of his side profile—his bright smile lighting up his face as he laughed at something Seungkwan said.

Your stomach twisted. Something about the way Seokmin's laugh lingered in the air made your chest ache. Myungho’s words replayed in your mind, but instead of clarifying your thoughts, they only muddled them further.

What was it about him that made you stare like this? And more importantly, did Myungho actually believe you could lure Seokmin into love?

As you stared through the kitchen window, Myungho's words looped endlessly in your head. If you followed his advice—luring Seokmin while also identifying your feelings—maybe a love relationship could naturally fall into place. But if you waited to fully identify your feelings first before making a move, the risk was clear: you might be rejected, unable to move on from the sting of it.

The thought sent a nervous pang through your chest.

You sighed softly, your gaze still lingering on Seokmin. He stood under the warm kitchen lights, his features effortlessly handsome. His defined jawline was sharp but softened by the natural curve of his smile, and his high nose bridge added an elegant touch to his side profile. His hair, slightly tousled and dark brown under the light, framed his face perfectly. His eyes had this brightness that always held a hint of mischief, and his laughter revealed a slight dimple on his cheek—a charming detail that made your stomach flutter if you were being honest.

He looked good. Too good. And somehow, you'd never paid attention to these things before.

A warmth crept up your face. "What am I even thinking?" you muttered to yourself.

But despite your internal panic, the idea planted by Myungho lingered stubbornly. Maybe—just maybe—there was a chance.

But what could you even do to lure Seokmin?

You frowned, resting your chin on your palm as you tried to brainstorm. Seokmin was the type of person who didn't fall for clichés—he was playful, sharp, and always seemed to catch on to people's antics before they even realized what they were doing. He'd probably laugh in your face if you suddenly became overly sweet or flirtatious.

Besides, you weren't the flirty type. And even if you tried, it would come off awkwardly.

"Maybe I should just bake something special for him?" you thought, but immediately dismissed the idea. That was too predictable. Seokmin was already spoiled by your desserts and knew your baking habits better than anyone.

"Compliments?" you mumbled under your breath.

Seokmin thrived on praise, but you weren't sure if casually throwing compliments would work. He might just think you were in a weird mood.

"Ugh, this is impossible," you groaned quietly.

You glanced at him through the window again. He was busy laughing at something Seungkwan said, his head tilted back, carefree and radiant. Seeing him like that made your chest tighten again.

There had to be a way to subtly make him see you differently without completely embarrassing yourself. The problem was figuring out how. Myungho made it sound so easy, but here you were, spiraling into overthinking.

Maybe... just spending more time with him outside of work could be a start? Creating moments where it was just the two of you, no distractions, no restaurant responsibilities—something that could blur the line between co-founders and something more.

You nodded slightly, determination flickering in your eyes. That was the plan: get closer to him naturally and see where it led.

Little did you know, Seokmin had already caught you staring through the window and was now leaning toward Seungkwan, whispering with a mischievous grin, "Why is she looking at me like that?"

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow and peeked at you through the kitchen window. "Oh? She's totally zoning out while staring at you. Maybe she's planning to poison your next dessert," he teased, nudging Seokmin with his elbow.

Seokmin laughed, brushing it off. "Nah, she's probably just plotting another way to outdo me in baking. Typical rival behavior."

But even as he joked, Seokmin couldn't help but notice that your expression was softer than usual, your brows slightly furrowed as if lost in thought. It was strange — you were usually sharp and focused when looking at him, always ready to challenge him on something. This time, there was a different energy.

"Or maybe she finally realized I'm irresistible," Seokmin added dramatically, flipping his hair.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming, Casanova."

Meanwhile, you snapped out of your thoughts, realizing you'd been staring for too long. Heat crept up your neck, and you quickly busied yourself by wiping nonexistent crumbs off the table.

When you glanced back through the window, Seokmin was smirking, clearly aware that you'd been caught. Your stomach twisted in embarrassment.

"Great, now he probably thinks I'm weird," you muttered under your breath.

But instead of retreating, you straightened your back. No, this was part of the plan, right? Get closer, create moments, blur the lines—Myungho's words echoed in your head.

Taking a deep breath, you made a bold decision. Tomorrow, you'd invite Seokmin to hang out. Maybe grab a snack or just sit around and talk. It didn't have to be romantic—just casual, friendly bonding.

It was the first step toward luring Seokmin... and maybe, just maybe, discovering your own feelings along the way.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through your window, waking you up earlier than usual. Stretching your limbs, you reached for your phone and instinctively opened your messages. Without overthinking it, you typed a text to Seokmin.

You: Hey, wanna hang out later today? Maybe grab food or something?

You hit send and sat up on your bed, rubbing your eyes. The response came almost immediately.

Seokmin: But we have work to do?

His straightforward reply made you freeze. Right—how could you forget? The restaurant didn't have a single off day since it opened. No wonder you were feeling physically drained—and it wasn’t just you. Your workers had probably been exhausted too, including Seokmin.

Slapping your forehead in realization, you muttered, "I'm such an idiot."

Without wasting time, you texted the team group chat.

You: Starting this week, we're having one day off every week. I'll announce which day after discussing it with everyone.

Seokmin replied with a thumbs-up emoji, and you could almost picture his relieved expression.

Satisfied, you got out of bed, feeling a little lighter. Maybe now you'd have a chance to spend time with Seokmin outside work.

Later that morning, you arrived at the restaurant feeling oddly determined. The air smelled faintly of freshly baked bread, and the familiar clatter of kitchen work filled the space. Seokmin was already at the counter, wiping it down with a focused expression.

You approached him casually. "Hey, so I sent out a message about having a weekly off day. Any thoughts on which day it should be?"

Seokmin paused, looking at you with a raised brow. "Took you long enough to realize we needed one."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks for the encouragement."

He smirked but then thought seriously. "I'd say Monday or Tuesday. Those are the slowest days for customers."

"Good point. I'll check with the others, but I'm leaning towards Monday."

As you made a mental note to finalize the schedule, you decided to push your luck. "Since we'll have a day off soon, wanna hang out then? Like actually go somewhere that doesn't involve dough or espresso machines?"

Seokmin gave you a playful side-eye. "Are you trying to be friends with me or something?"

You faltered at his question. "Uh, I mean, we're co-founders, so it wouldn't hurt to—"

"Relax," he interrupted, chuckling. "Yeah, why not? Let's hang out on the first day off."

A surprising wave of excitement bubbled inside you, but you kept it cool. "Great. It's a plan, then."

As Seokmin returned to wiping the counter, you couldn't help but glance at his profile, recalling Myungho's suggestion. Maybe this was the first step to whatever Myungho was implying—luring Seokmin while figuring out your own feelings.

The long-awaited day off arrived, and you stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your reflection. Instead of your usual comfortable attire, you'd made an effort—something casual but stylish. A fitted blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans and a touch of light makeup to highlight your features. Even your hair was styled, falling in soft waves over your shoulders.

You bit your lip, questioning your own motives. Why did you care so much about how you looked today? Was it because you were hanging out with Seokmin?

Pushing the thought aside, you grabbed your bag and headed out. The weather was perfect—sunny with a gentle breeze. Seokmin was already waiting at the meeting spot near the café, wearing a simple white shirt and dark jeans that somehow made him look effortlessly good. His brown hair was slightly tousled, and the sight of him made your heart do an unexpected flip.

He noticed you approaching and tilted his head. "Whoa. Did you get a makeover or something?"

You scoffed, trying to hide your flustered state. "No, I just... decided to look presentable for once."

He grinned. "Well, mission accomplished."

His casual compliment caught you off guard, but you quickly recovered. "So, where are we going?"

"I was thinking we could grab lunch first and then hit that new arcade that opened nearby. Unless you have a better plan?"

"Lunch and arcade sound good."

The café Seokmin chose was cozy and filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. As you both sat by the window, sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over your table. You ordered a light lunch, and while waiting for your food, Seokmin leaned back in his chair, eyes studying you.

"You've been weird lately," he suddenly said, his tone playful but curious.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Weird? How?"

"You're not as sharp with your comebacks anymore. And you're treating me too nicely. It's kind of... suspicious." He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion.

You forced a laugh, trying to keep your cool. "Maybe I just got tired of arguing with you all the time."

"Ha! Highly doubtful," he teased, sipping on his drink.

The food arrived, thankfully interrupting the conversation. As you ate, Seokmin shared some funny stories about Seungkwan and Myungho, his laughter contagious. You found yourself genuinely enjoying his company, even as you silently struggled to interpret the growing warmth in your chest.

After lunch, the two of you headed to the arcade. The vibrant lights and energetic atmosphere immediately lifted your spirits. Seokmin's eyes lit up as he spotted a basketball shooting game.

"Bet I can beat you," he challenged, already pulling out some tokens.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. You're all talk."

The competitive energy between you two returned in full force as you battled it out at the arcade. Seokmin was annoyingly good at the basketball game, but you managed to redeem yourself in a racing game.

"Rematch," he demanded, grinning after his loss.

"Nope, a win's a win," you declared triumphantly, sticking out your tongue.

As the day went on, the initial awkwardness faded, replaced by a natural and comfortable vibe. It felt different from your usual work dynamic—lighter, freer, and filled with laughter.

By the time you both left the arcade, the sky was painted in hues of pink and orange. You walked side by side, the cool breeze brushing against your skin.

"Thanks for today," Seokmin said suddenly, his voice softer.

You glanced at him, surprised. "For what?"

"For dragging me out. I didn't realize I needed this break."

You smiled. "Me neither."

The warmth in your chest returned, stronger this time.

Fast forward a month, and things had taken an unexpected turn. The off-day hangouts with Seokmin were becoming more frequent and surprisingly enjoyable. At first, it was just an attempt to follow Myungho's advice—to lure him into liking you while figuring out your own feelings. But now? Now you knew exactly how you felt. You had a full-blown crush on Seokmin, and it was spiraling out of control.

To regain some clarity and control, you decided to skip this week's hangout with Seokmin and meet up with Myungho and Seungkwan instead. The café was buzzing with life, but the warmth of the place did little to calm your racing thoughts.

“So,” you began awkwardly, stirring your latte, “what kind of girls does Seokmin like?”

Both men froze, their cups suspended in mid-air as they stared at you.

Seungkwan nearly choked on his drink. “Wait—hold up. Are you serious?”

“Keep your voice down!” you whispered urgently, glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention.

Myungho set down his mug, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. “So you’re finally admitting it, huh?”

“Admitting what?” you tried to play dumb, but the heat rising to your face betrayed you.

“That you like Seokmin,” Myungho said smugly, leaning back in his chair.

You sighed, slumping in defeat. “Fine. Yes. I like him, okay? But it's getting out of hand, and I don’t know what to do.”

Seungkwan clapped his hands together, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Oh my gosh, this is amazing! We finally have a love story brewing!”

“Seungkwan, focus,” Myungho said sternly before turning to you. “Why are you asking what kind of girls he likes? You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“Well… yeah,” you admitted, fiddling with your straw. “I just thought it would help if I knew.”

Myungho leaned forward, his expression serious. “Listen, Seokmin’s not the type to fall for someone based on a checklist. He likes people who are genuine and passionate. If you keep being yourself, you’ll be fine.”

Seungkwan nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, and honestly, I think he already enjoys being around you. Just don't overthink it.”

You bit your lip, their words sinking in. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” Myungho reassured you. “But if you want to step it up, maybe surprise him with something thoughtful. He likes small, meaningful gestures.”

Seungkwan beamed. “Like bringing him his favorite coffee or making him laugh with those lame jokes you’re surprisingly good at.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Thanks, guys.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of determination. Maybe, just maybe, this crush wouldn’t be so one-sided after all.

One random morning, as you were setting up the bakery counter, an email notification pinged on your phone. You opened it to find an invitation to a bakery competition—this time with a twist. It was a partner competition where participants would be randomly paired to create and present their final baked goods.

You glanced at Seokmin, who was busy folding dough near the oven. "Did you get the invite too?"

He wiped his hands on his apron and checked his phone. "Yeah. Partner selection is random, huh? So we can't choose each other."

A brief silence passed between you. It was a strange thought—not working alongside him despite how much you'd grown used to it.

"Are we still joining?" you asked.

Seokmin grinned. "Of course. It'll be a good break from the restaurant."

And with that, the decision was made. The restaurant would close for a week while the two of you participated in the competition.

The competition venue was grand, filled with state-of-the-art kitchen stations and a lively crowd of bakers. Judges stood on a raised platform, their authoritative presence commanding the attention of everyone present.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to partner bakery competition!" one judge announced. "Partners will be selected at random. Please step forward when your name is called."

You and Seokmin exchanged glances. Both of you knew the odds of being paired together were slim, but there was still a flicker of hope.

"YFN will be paired with Jihan Park."

A tall, confident-looking male baker approached you with a warm smile. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms dusted with flour. "Nice to meet you. Let's create something amazing together," he said, extending his hand.

You shook it, smiling back. "Looking forward to it."

Then the judge called out, "Lee Seokmin will be paired with Eunha Kim."

A graceful female baker with a poised demeanor stepped forward, offering Seokmin a friendly smile. "Let's make this fun," she said cheerfully.

Seokmin forced a polite nod but couldn't help glancing at you and your new partner. Something about seeing you with Jihan unsettled him.

The competition began, and you quickly found yourself impressed by Jihan's calm demeanor and insightful ideas. The two of you worked seamlessly, exchanging suggestions and dividing tasks efficiently.

"How about we add a hint of lavender to the frosting for a floral note?" Jihan suggested.

"Good idea. I'll handle the batter," you replied without hesitation.

It was smooth, respectful, and surprisingly harmonious—nothing like the chaotic start you'd had with Seokmin when the restaurant first opened.

Meanwhile, Seokmin was struggling.

Eunha was an excellent partner—organized and skilled—but Seokmin couldn't focus. He kept glancing at your station, watching you laugh at something Jihan said.

Eunha frowned. "Seokmin, you're overmixing the dough."

"Ah, sorry," he muttered, snapping out of his thoughts.

It was frustrating. Without your snarky clapbacks and fiery determination, something felt off. And seeing how friendly you were with Jihan only made it worse.

He clenched his jaw as Jihan gently brushed flour off your cheek, making you laugh. The scene ignited a strange spark of jealousy in him.

Eunha raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just...focus," Seokmin grumbled, trying to shake off the unease.

But deep down, he couldn't help but wonder—why did it bother him so much?

The final results were finally announced after days of intense baking and creative brainstorming. The judges stood at the front of the grand hall, their expressions proud and serious. Bakers from all corners of the venue gathered with nervous anticipation.

"In first place," the head judge announced, "YFN and Jihan Park!"

A wave of cheers erupted, and you blinked in disbelief before the excitement finally registered. You turned to Jihan, who beamed with pride.

"We did it!" you exclaimed.

Jihan grinned, high-fiving you. "Teamwork makes the dream work!"

As the two of you made your way to the stage to accept the award, your heart raced with pride and exhilaration. The recognition was beyond rewarding, a testament to your hard work and cooperation.

After the award ceremony, your excitement waned when you noticed Seokmin standing off to the side with Eunha. His face was tense, and his posture was stiff. Something felt off.

Curiosity—and maybe a bit of concern—pushed you to search for the result board. You scanned the list quickly until your eyes landed on Seokmin's name.

10th Place.

Shock washed over you. Seokmin, the guy who could whip up a perfect croissant blindfolded, placed tenth?

You couldn't hide your bewilderment as you made your way toward him. Seokmin noticed you approaching, and his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Hey," you called softly, trying to gauge his mood. "You okay?"

He forced a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, 10th's not bad, right? Top 10 and all."

Eunha awkwardly excused herself, sensing the tension.

"But that's not like you," you said, your voice filled with genuine confusion. "What happened?"

Seokmin ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I guess I just... wasn't on my game this time."

You stared at him, not buying it for a second. Seokmin never half-hearted anything in the kitchen. Something must have been wrong.

His gaze flickered toward Jihan, who was standing across the room, talking to the judges.

Your chest tightened as realization dawned. Was Seokmin... upset about you working with someone else?

Before you could say anything, Seokmin gave a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway, congrats on first place. You deserve it."

Despite his words, you could sense the frustration simmering beneath his smile. And that left you with a strange mix of guilt and confusion.

The day after the competition, your parents decided that a grand celebration was in order to honor your first-place win. They spared no effort, preparing an extravagant feast and decorating your family’s bakery-turned-party venue with warm lights and floral arrangements. The scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air.

Since it was a celebration of not just your personal victory but also the bakery's success, your parents extended invitations to all your restaurant staff — which, of course, included Seokmin. You couldn’t leave out Seungkwan and Myungho either, knowing they'd be excited to join the fun.

The evening arrived, and your parent's house was lively with chatter and laughter. Workers mingled, enjoying the celebratory atmosphere while tables were filled with delicious food. You spotted Seungkwan making a dramatic entrance, waving enthusiastically as Myungho trailed behind with a calm but amused expression.

"Number one baker in the house!" Seungkwan bellowed, earning amused looks from the crowd. He rushed over to you, giving you an exaggerated pat on the back. "You’re a legend now. No one’s gonna forget this win."

Myungho smirked, handing you a gift bag. "Congrats. Maybe you’ll stop asking us for advice now."

You laughed, accepting the gift. "Thanks, Myungho. But don't get too comfortable. I might still pester you for tips."

"Of course you will," he teased.

As the night progressed, your parents called for a toast. Glasses clinked as they expressed their pride in you, their voices warm with love.

In the midst of the celebration, your eyes naturally found Seokmin. He stood near the buffet table, laughing at something one of the staff said. He looked relaxed, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression when he glanced your way.

It made your chest tighten for a second before Seungkwan nudged you playfully.

"Hey, stop staring at him like that. People might start talking."

You scoffed. "I'm not staring."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," Seungkwan quipped with a knowing grin.

Before you could retort, your mother called you over to greet some guests. As you walked away, Seokmin’s laughter echoed in your ears. There was something about that sound that made your heart feel lighter, even if things between the two of you were still somewhat tangled.

The celebration was winding down. Plates were being cleared, and the chatter had softened to a comforting hum. Despite the festive atmosphere, there was a weight sitting in your chest that you couldn't shake.

Seokmin hadn't spoken a single word to you since the competition results came out. No congratulations, no playful banter—nothing. You thought perhaps tonight’s celebration would break the ice, but he remained distant, only engaging with the other workers and avoiding you entirely.

As the party dwindled, you spotted him near the entrance, ready to leave. Determined not to let this silent treatment continue, you hurried over and reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"Seokmin," you called softly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the sting in your chest.

He turned to look at you, his expression guarded. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something—anything—but then he hesitated. Slowly, he backed away, gently but deliberately prying your hand off his wrist.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, barely audible.

Before you could process his words, he turned on his heel and walked toward a group of workers, effortlessly slipping into their conversation as though nothing had happened. They laughed at something he said, oblivious to the ache swelling inside you.

You stood there, frozen, the sting of rejection cutting deeper than you expected. The warmth of the celebration faded into the background, replaced by a hollow ache. He didn't even give you a chance to talk. No explanation, no closure—just a quiet "sorry" and a wall you couldn't seem to break through.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing yourself to stay composed. You plastered a strained smile on your face as a few guests walked past, congratulating you one last time. But inside, all you could think about was the unbearable weight of Seokmin's absence.

It hurt. So much.

No matter how much Seokmin’s cold treatment hurt, you weren’t ready to give up. Myungho’s words echoed in your mind: “Surprise him with something thoughtful. He likes small, meaningful gestures.”

If winning the competition had driven a wedge between you, maybe a genuine, thoughtful gesture could mend it.

The next morning after a week ended, you woke up early and spent hours baking. Not the elaborate, competition-level pastries you were known for—but something simple, something from the heart. After some thought, you decided on Seokmin’s favorite: soft, pillowy cream buns with a hint of sweetness.

You carefully packaged them in a simple, elegant box, tying it with a ribbon. A small note was tucked under the bow: “Thanks for working hard. Let’s talk soon.”

By the time you reached the restaurant, Seokmin was already there, prepping for the day. His movements were mechanical, and he barely glanced in your direction when you walked in. Swallowing your nerves, you approached him, holding out the box.

"Hey," you called softly, trying to sound casual. "I made these for you."

Seokmin's hands stilled, and he finally looked at you. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the box.

"For me?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thought you'd like a treat after... well, everything."

He hesitated before taking the box from your hands. His fingers brushed against yours briefly, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Thanks," he muttered, his tone softer than you'd expected. He opened the lid, the sweet aroma of the buns wafting out. His lips curved into a small, reluctant smile. "These are my favorite."

"I know," you admitted, feeling a bit bashful. "I remember you talking about them once."

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He glanced down at the buns and then back at you. "You... remembered that?"

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Of course. It's not that hard to remember what my... partner likes."

Seokmin's expression softened, and for the first time since the competition, he seemed to let down his guard. "I appreciate it," he said sincerely.

It wasn’t a grand reconciliation, but it was a start. And as he took a bite of the bun, a sense of hope bloomed in your chest.

Maybe Myungho was right after all.

You had hoped the thoughtful gift would ease the tension between you and Seokmin, but reality had other plans.

The next morning, as you entered the restaurant, one of the workers greeted you with unexpected news. "Oh, Seokmin won't be coming in today. He said he's taking a day off."

Your steps faltered. "A day off? He didn't tell me."

The worker looked apologetic. "Yeah, he mentioned it to us yesterday before closing."

A hollow ache formed in your chest. You didn’t know whether Seokmin was deliberately avoiding you or genuinely had something important to do. But the fact that he hadn’t told you personally stung more than you wanted to admit. You were supposed to be partners—co-founders of this restaurant. Yet he had chosen to inform his workers first, bypassing you entirely.

You forced a polite smile and nodded. "Got it. Thanks for letting me know."

As you walked to the kitchen, your thoughts raced. Had you misstepped by trying to reach out? Was he pushing you away because of the competition loss? Or was it something deeper that he didn’t want to share?

The ache simmered into frustration. Fine. If Seokmin needed space, you would give it to him. But you weren't going to let this rift define your partnership—or your growing feelings for him. You were determined to find a way back to the easy camaraderie you once shared.

Even if it meant confronting him directly.

Seokmin sat slouched on his couch, staring blankly at the muted television. A steaming mug of coffee sat untouched on the table in front of him. Staying home today had seemed like a good idea when he told the workers yesterday—but now, it felt like the worst decision ever.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. His thoughts kept circling back to you.

At first, it was simple. You were his whiny, naggy partner who never missed a chance to throw a snarky clapback during baking sessions. Annoying but dependable. That was the dynamic. That was safe.

But the competition changed everything.

Seeing you work so seamlessly with that male baker—it rattled him. His usual confidence faltered. Without you by his side, he couldn't function properly, even with his capable partner.

And then the party...

When you reached out and touched his wrist, a spark shot through him. It wasn’t just a fleeting shock—it lingered, leaving a warmth he couldn't shake off. It was confusing, unsettling. He'd always thought of you as a partner, maybe a friend at best. But that moment made him question everything.

He'd told himself it was temporary, just a weird aftermath of the competition stress. That was why he'd decided to take time off, hoping to clear his head. But the moment the restaurant reopened, you handed him his favorite treat with that thoughtful smile. His heart skipped a beat.

That wasn’t normal.

Seokmin sighed, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with both hands. Everything about you was confusing now.

Were you still just his friend and partner? Or was it something more?

The question lingered, heavy and unanswered. And for the first time, Seokmin wasn't sure if he wanted to find an answer—or if he was terrified of what that answer might be.

Seokmin sighed, slumping further into his couch. The sunlight streaming through the window did nothing to ease the heavy weight in his chest. His phone vibrated with a new message, probably from Myungho or Seungkwan inviting him to another hangout.

He ignored it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them—it was the opposite, actually. But the risk was too high.

Ever since the party, the dynamic between you, Myungho, and Seungkwan had changed. You were friends now, chatting comfortably like you’d known each other for years. While Seokmin was glad you were getting along with his best friends, it also made him uneasy.

Especially Seungkwan.

That guy had zero filter. If Seokmin even hinted at his confusion about you, Seungkwan would probably blurt it out the next time he saw you. And Myungho? He wouldn’t say a word directly, but he’d send those smug, knowing looks that spoke volumes.

Seokmin groaned, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t afford to slip up. Not when he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling.

Was it just lingering guilt from the competition? Or was it something more—something he wasn't ready to admit?

His phone buzzed again.

Seungkwan: "Bro, why are you ghosting us? We should hang out this weekend. You in?"

Seokmin stared at the message, anxiety gnawing at his resolve. He wanted to say yes, but the fear of Seungkwan accidentally spilling anything kept his fingers frozen.

Seungkwan: "You okay? Don’t make me come over and drag you out."

Seokmin huffed. Classic Seungkwan. He couldn't avoid them forever, but for now, staying quiet seemed safer.

Seokmin: "Busy with restaurant stuff. Maybe next time."

He hit send, knowing it was a weak excuse. But until he figured out his own feelings, staying out of Seungkwan’s and Myungho’s reach was the best option.

It was a relatively quiet morning at the restaurant when the front doorbell jingled. You looked up, surprised to see Myungho and Seungkwan walking in, chatting casually. Their presence immediately made you blink in confusion.

"Hey," Seungkwan greeted with his usual bright smile. "Where's Seokmin?"

You hesitated, wiping your hands on your apron. "Uh, he's not here today. He took the day off."

Seungkwan's brows furrowed. "Day off? Seokmin? That workaholic?"

"Yeah." You shrugged, trying to sound indifferent even though it still stung that he hadn’t told you directly. "I don't know why. He just told the workers yesterday and didn’t mention it to me."

Myungho’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He exchanged a glance with Seungkwan, who looked just as puzzled.

"That’s weird," Seungkwan muttered. "Seokmin never takes a random day off unless there’s a reason."

"Did something happen?" Myungho asked, his tone sharper, tinged with curiosity.

You faltered, not expecting the direct question. Their concern and confusion made it harder to keep everything bottled up. You sighed, leaning against the counter as you decided to just be honest.

"It’s… complicated."

Seungkwan plopped down on a nearby chair, leaning forward eagerly. "We have time. Spill."

You laughed weakly but felt the weight of the past few weeks press down on you. "It all started with the competition," you began, recounting the entire situation—being paired with the male baker, winning first place, and seeing Seokmin placed tenth.

Both Myungho and Seungkwan listened intently.

"And then after the party," you continued, your voice softening, "I tried talking to him, but he just... walked away. He hasn’t been the same since. I thought giving him his favorite treat would fix things, but instead, he just took the day off without saying anything to me."

Silence lingered as they absorbed your words. Seungkwan looked genuinely surprised, while Myungho’s expression darkened with thought.

"You two are usually inseparable at the restaurant," Myungho finally said. "It doesn’t make sense for him to act like that unless..."

Seungkwan gasped dramatically. "Unless he likes you, and he’s being all weird because he doesn’t know how to handle it!"

You nearly choked. "What? No! That's impossible."

Myungho's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Or maybe he’s confused about how he sees you now. Seokmin isn’t the best at sorting out his feelings, you know."

You fell silent, Myungho’s words sinking into you. Could that really be it? Seokmin being... confused about you? The thought made your heart race and your mind spin.

Seungkwan, ever the cheerful instigator, grinned. "Guess it’s time for you to dig deeper, huh? If Seokmin’s avoiding you, then that’s already suspicious."

"Suspicious or not, it hurts," you admitted quietly.

"We get it," Myungho reassured. "But maybe this isn't the end—just a confusing phase."

Despite their efforts to cheer you up, uncertainty clung to your chest like a weight.

Seokmin barely had time to process the sound of the doorbell when it burst open with Seungkwan and Myungho storming inside. His jaw dropped as Seungkwan made a beeline straight for him.

Before Seokmin could react, Seungkwan jumped onto him, locking his arms around Seokmin's shoulders and putting his full body weight on him.

"Yah! Get off!" Seokmin stumbled back, barely keeping his balance. "What is wrong with you?"

"You bad man!" Seungkwan scolded, though his voice was more playful than angry.

Seokmin frowned, still confused. "What did I do?" He desperately reached out for Myungho, who was watching the scene with an unimpressed look.

Myungho simply folded his arms and walked over to the couch, sitting down as if this was a regular occurrence. "Don't look at me. You deserve it."

Seungkwan dramatically gasped and tightened his hold. "Seriously, Seokmin? Avoiding Y/N like some sulking child? After everything she did to make things less awkward?"

Seokmin’s body tensed at the mention of your name. He managed to push Seungkwan off, but the accusation hung heavily in the air. "I wasn’t avoiding her. I just needed space."

"Space, huh?" Myungho raised an eyebrow. "That's a convenient excuse for someone who couldn’t handle his feelings."

Seokmin flinched at the bluntness. He rubbed the back of his neck, his usual cheerful demeanor faltering. "It’s not that simple, okay? Things got weird after the competition, and I—" He paused, struggling to find the right words.

"You what?" Seungkwan pressed, now leaning forward with eager eyes. "Caught feelings? Got jealous? Felt like you couldn't handle being around her because your heart does cartwheels every time she looks at you?"

Seokmin’s face turned beet red. "Seungkwan, stop it!"

"Ah, so I'm right!" Seungkwan grinned triumphantly. "I knew it! My instincts are never wrong."

Myungho sighed, his tone softer but still firm. "Look, Seokmin. You need to sort this out. Y/N's hurting because of your sudden coldness. If you're confused, talk to her. Don’t just run away."

Seokmin slumped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. "I don’t even know where to start..."

"Start by apologizing," Myungho suggested. "And maybe admit you’ve got some feelings to figure out."

Seungkwan patted Seokmin's shoulder with a grin. "See? Not so hard. We'll even help if you need a romantic pep talk."

Seokmin groaned, but deep down, he knew they were right. He couldn’t keep avoiding you forever.

The next morning, you woke up with renewed determination. If Seokmin was still acting cold toward you, then you were going to be the bigger person. You prepped a different bakery treat for him, something you knew he'd like, hoping that this small gesture could smooth things over.

Meanwhile, at Seokmin's apartment, he stood in front of the mirror, his reflection mirroring the turmoil inside him. He took a deep breath, staring at his own anxious expression.

"You'll be fine," he muttered to himself, his voice firm despite the knot in his chest. "Just apologize. Simple as that."

He grabbed his bag and headed to work, hoping he wouldn’t mess this up.

When both of you arrived at the restaurant, it was as if fate had aligned your schedules. You met eyes at the entrance, your hands nervously holding the bakery treat you'd prepared.

"Good morning," you greeted softly, your voice a little hesitant.

Seokmin blinked, surprised by your presence, but before he could say anything, you offered the wrapped bread to him. "Here... uh, I thought you'd like this."

For a moment, he just stared at the gift in your hand, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and took it, his fingers brushing against yours. His eyes lingered on you, filled with emotions he couldn't fully articulate.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice low.

Without waiting for a response, you stepped inside the restaurant, your heart racing from the brief interaction. The place was empty—just the two of you in the quiet morning atmosphere.

As you moved toward the counter, you felt a sudden tug on your wrist. Startled, you turned to see Seokmin pulling you toward him. The force of his action made you take an unsteady step, bringing you far too close to him.

Your breath caught in your throat as his warm eyes searched yours, vulnerability flickering within them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity.

The tenderness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, one that you couldn't ignore. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs, caught off guard by how much those words meant to you.

Seokmin wasn’t any better off with his feelings either. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest, each beat screaming a reminder of just how close you were. He could feel your breath brushing against his lips, and his gaze flickered downward, drawn to the space between you that was barely there. Time seemed to stop, trapping the two of you in a fragile, intoxicating moment.

The air was thick with tension—undeniable and magnetic. His hands itched to pull you even closer, but he was frozen, terrified and captivated all at once.

Then, the sharp sound of a motorcycle engine broke the spell, screeching to a stop right outside the restaurant.

Reality came crashing back. Both of you blinked, faces burning with embarrassment as you realized just how dangerously close you'd been to touching lips. The sudden awareness of the moment made your hearts race even faster.

Panic set in as the door creaked open. "Good morning!" one of the workers cheerfully greeted, stepping inside.

Without exchanging a word, both you and Seokmin darted toward the kitchen, as if that could erase what had just happened. The air was still thick with awkward tension as you stood side by side, desperately trying to act casual.

Seokmin cleared his throat, nervously adjusting his apron. His ears were bright red, and you could feel the heat rising to your own cheeks.

"So... let's get the prep done," you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, just as flustered.

The worker's footsteps faded as they moved to the front of the restaurant, completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded in the kitchen. But for you and Seokmin, everything had changed. And neither of you knew how to navigate this newfound tension.

The next morning, you woke up with restless thoughts swirling in your mind. Despite trying to shake off the awkwardness from the previous day, a nagging uncertainty lingered. You didn't know if the tension between you and Seokmin had completely faded or if it was just waiting to resurface at any moment.

Still, you decided to continue with what had become your little ritual. You made another bakery item for Seokmin—something thoughtful and tailored to his tastes—and carried it with you to the restaurant.

Arriving early, you found Seokmin already there, setting up the counters. His back was turned, but the sound of your footsteps made him glance over his shoulder. His eyes softened when he saw you holding the familiar paper bag.

"Good morning," you greeted, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokmin's lips curled into a faint smile, and you stepped closer to hand him the bakery gift. However, instead of taking the bag, his fingers gently wrapped around your hand—not your wrist this time, but your hand itself.

The warmth of his touch made your heart skip a beat.

Seokmin looked down briefly, as if gathering courage. When he spoke, his voice was soft and timid, like a child nervously making a request.

"Do you... um, want to join me? We can eat together."

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, uncertain yet hopeful. The vulnerability in his tone caught you off guard, and your resolve wavered.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. It was rare to see Seokmin this timid, and it struck a chord deep within you.

"Sure," you finally managed to say, your voice quieter than intended.

His face lit up with relief, and he released your hand, though the warmth lingered as you both made your way to the small table near the window.

As Seokmin unwrapped the bakery item, the atmosphere felt lighter, yet charged with an unspoken understanding. Neither of you knew where this was headed, but in that moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was that you were there, sharing something meaningful—together.

Days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Seokmin progressed in ways you hadn't anticipated. The once-tense atmosphere had completely shifted. Inside jokes formed, conversations flowed naturally, and there were moments when the two of you seemed like the only ones in the bustling restaurant.

Seokmin had grown bolder too—no longer timid when asking you to join him for meals or walking beside you when the day ended. Little gestures, like him adjusting your apron or playfully brushing flour off your face, had become regular occurrences that left your heart racing.

It didn’t go unnoticed by your friends, especially Seungkwan, who one day stormed into the restaurant with Myungho trailing behind, clearly amused by the scene unfolding.

“You’re unbelievable!” Seungkwan exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at you.

You blinked, confused. “What did I do now?”

Seungkwan dramatically rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you and Seokmin are basically acting like a couple, but you still haven’t confessed to him?”

Your face heated up. “We’re just friends,” you mumbled, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“Friends?” Seungkwan’s voice rose incredulously. “Please, I’ve seen less tension in romantic dramas. And don't even get me started on the way Seokmin looks at you. He’s practically a walking heart-eyes emoji!”

Myungho chuckled as he crossed his arms. “Seungkwan does have a point. The chemistry is obvious.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s not that simple.”

Seungkwan groaned in frustration. “Not that simple? You bake him special treats every morning, he holds your hand like it’s some sacred artifact, and you two practically gaze into each other’s souls during work breaks. What more do you need?”

You opened your mouth to protest but found no words.

“You’re scared he won’t feel the same, aren’t you?” Myungho asked gently.

Your silence was all the confirmation they needed.

Seungkwan softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, we’re just saying that life’s too short for all this waiting. If you like him—and let’s be real, you do—then tell him. The worst that could happen is he says no, but honestly? I highly doubt that’ll happen.”

After all the heated pep talk, Seungkwan crossed his arms and gave you an exasperated look. “Honestly, you’re such a dense woman.”

Your jaw dropped, utterly offended. “Excuse me? Dense? What is that supposed to mean?”

Seungkwan dramatically sighed, waving his hand in frustration. “Exactly what I said. Dense. Completely oblivious.”

“I am not dense!” you retorted, eyes narrowing.

Myungho stifled a laugh, shaking his head. “You kinda are, though.”

You opened your mouth to argue but paused, Seungkwan’s words replaying in your mind. What did he mean by that? Dense about what?

It hit you like a truck.

Your eyes widened in shock. “Wait—are you saying that... Seokmin likes me back?”

Seungkwan gave you a look that screamed "finally." “Ding ding ding! Give her a prize, folks!”

Your brain short-circuited. Memories flooded back—the way Seokmin had been holding your hand instead of your wrist, his lingering glances, his timid invitations to eat together. The soft touches, the way his voice softened around you.

Oh no.

Your hands flew to your mouth as you gasped. “Oh my god.”

Seungkwan threw his hands up. “Finally, she gets it!”

“I thought he was just being... polite?” you whispered, feeling your face burn.

Myungho laughed quietly. “Yeah, because guys are totally that polite with everyone, right?”

“I’m so—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. “Seokmin... actually likes me?”

Seungkwan grinned mischievously. “And now you’re the one who needs to step up, miss oblivious. Or are you planning to drag this out for another year?”

Panic mixed with exhilaration swirled in your chest. Seokmin liked you back? Suddenly, all those stolen moments and unspoken feelings made perfect sense.

“I need to... I need to think,” you muttered, heart racing as Seungkwan and Myungho shared knowing glances.

One thing was clear—you couldn’t ignore this anymore.

A few days went by, and despite the growing tension between you and Seokmin, you decided it was time to confess. The thought had weighed heavily on your chest, and there was no escaping it anymore. Early in the morning, you woke up determined, gathering all your focus to bake a cupcake for him—simple, but with love poured into every whisk and fold.

As usual, you arrived at the restaurant before the others, the aroma of freshly baked treats wafting through the kitchen. Seokmin walked in right on time, his usual cheerful but slightly timid demeanor lighting up the quiet space. You handed him the cupcake, heart thudding wildly.

He smiled, taking it from your hand. "Thanks. This looks amazing, as always."

Normally, you'd wait for him to make the first move to eat together. But not today. As he turned to take a step, you impulsively reached out, hooking your hand around his pinky finger.

Seokmin paused, looking back at you with curious eyes.

Your breath hitched, and before you lost the nerve, you stepped closer. Tiptoeing, you leaned in and pressed a soft peck on his lips. Love electricity surged through every inch of your body, a sensation so overwhelming it made your hands tremble slightly.

Seokmin froze.

At first, he was confused by your sudden stop, but the moment your lips touched his, his world spiraled out of control. His eyes widened in shock, and he stood rooted in place, completely malfunctioning.

Before he could gather his wits, you pulled back, a gentle smile gracing your face. The warmth of the moment lingered between you, thick and undeniable.

"I like you. Want to be my boyfriend?" you whispered, your voice soft and delicate due to the close distance between the two of you.

Seokmin's lips parted, his brain struggling to catch up with what just happened. His face turned a deep shade of crimson as your words settled into his heart. His breath was uneven, and he stared at you as if you'd just turned his world upside down—which, frankly, you had.

Once Seokmin's mind finally caught up with the whirlwind of emotions, a sudden surge of detemination flashed through his eyes. Without hesitation, he cupped your cheeks, his touch warm and firm. You barely had time to react before he leaned in and captured your lips in a deeper, more passionate kiss.

The word seemed to blue around you. All you could focus on was the feeling of his lips against yours—soft yet insistent, conveying emotions he'd held back for far too long. The warmth of his hands on your cheeks sent waves of comfort and excitement coursing through your body.

Your heart raced wildly, but you kissed him back just as earnestly, pouring all your bottled-up feelings into that one moment. His breath mingled with yours, and the sweetness of the cupcake you had baked lingered faintly between you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breathing uneven. His eyes sparkled with a mixture or joy, disbelief, and affection.

"Yes," he whispered breathlessly, his voice raw with emotions. "Yes, I want to be your boyfriend. And just for the record—" He smiled through his flushed face, "You just completely ruined my ability to think straight for the day."

You laughed softly, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "Glad to know I have that effect on you."

Seokmin chuckled, his thumbs brushing your cheeks tenderly. "You have no idea how long I've been holding this in."

The morning air around you felt lighter, filled with a newfound warmth. And as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the windows, you knew this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

Later that afternoon, after closing the restaurant early, you and Seokmin decided it was time to share the news with Seungkwan and Myungho. The two had been your biggest supporters—or rather, the loudest naggers—throughout your complicated journey.

The café you chose was bustling, but you managed to snag a quiet corner booth. Myungho sat calmly, stirring his hot tea, while Seungkwan was already on his third pastry, chatting animatedly about a recent drama he’d watched.

"So," Seungkwan said between bites, eyeing the both of you suspiciously. "Why do you two look so... suspiciously happy?"

Myungho's brow arched. "Did something finally happen?"

Seokmin grinned, unable to hide his excitement. He reached over and intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting your joined hands slightly. "We're dating."

Seungkwan choked on his pastry. "Wait—WHAT?" He coughed dramatically, waving his hands in disbelief. "You mean you two finally got together? After all that nonsense?"

"Finally," Myungho muttered under his breath, taking a calm sip of his drink. "About time."

Seungkwan, still recovering, narrowed his eyes at you. "And here I thought I was going to have to write a speech for your confession." He pointed accusingly at Seokmin. "You better treat her well, or you'll have me to answer to!"

Seokmin laughed, raising his free hand in surrender. "I promise, Seungkwan. She's in good hands."

The lighthearted moment melted into warmth, and Seungkwan eventually broke into a proud smile. "I can't believe this actually happened. I might cry."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Please don’t turn this into a dramatic scene."

Myungho smirked. "It's Seungkwan. He was born dramatic."

The table burst into laughter, the air filled with joy and relief.

As the four of you shared desserts and stories, you felt Seokmin's hand gently squeeze yours under the table. His touch was a silent promise—one that spoke of happiness, trust, and a love that had finally found its way to both of you.

#pledis 17

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#pledis 17