Morning light filtered softly through the half-open window of Yuna Kang’s tiny apartment, spilling across her cluttered desk and the faded fashion sketches pinned to the wall. Outside, the city was already humming to life: distant engines revving, vendors calling out greetings, and somewhere a sparrow’s cheerful chirp. But inside, the quiet hum of anxiety settled over her like a thick fog.

Yuna stretched and rubbed her eyes, the weight of yesterday’s worries still pressing against her chest. Unpaid bills peeked from beneath a stack of invoices; her laptop screen blinked with unread emails from clients she hadn’t yet found the energy to reply to. She let out a long sigh, burying her face in her hands.

A sharp buzz startled her. Her phone flashed on the nightstand—Jiwoo’s name shining brightly.

“Yuna! Please, pick up!” Jiwoo’s frantic voice burst through before the first ring had even ended.

Yuna groaned but answered anyway. “Jiwoo? What’s wrong so early?”

“I have a blind date tonight,” Jiwoo said, voice trembling slightly. “And I can’t do it.”

Yuna blinked, sitting upright. “Why not? You’re usually all about these things.”

Jiwoo’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Because… I’m scared. You know how those dates go. I freeze up, say the wrong things, and then I cry in the bathroom.”

Yuna couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “That sounds exactly like you.”

“Exactly,” Jiwoo said, “So can you do me a huge favor? Just for one night. Go instead of me.”

Yuna frowned, confusion mixing with curiosity. “Wait. You want me to pretend to be you? On a date?”

“Please!” Jiwoo begged. “I’ll owe you big time.”

Yuna hesitated. Jiwoo was the life of every party, a natural charmer. Yuna herself was shy, awkward, and anything but glamorous. But the desperation in Jiwoo’s voice melted her resistance.

“Alright,” Yuna said at last, “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you!” Jiwoo cheered. “I’ll text you the details.”

Later that evening, Yuna stood in Jiwoo’s bedroom, the unfamiliar fabric of a black dress slipping over her shoulders. High heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as she practiced walking, stumbling slightly on the unfamiliar height.

She caught her reflection in the full-length mirror. The flawless makeup, the glossy hair, the confident smile—none of it felt like her.

Just pretend, she told herself. One night. You can do this.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Jiwoo popped up: Remember, be confident. Fake it till you make it!

Yuna took a shaky breath and nodded.

The rooftop restaurant glittered with soft golden lights and the gentle murmur of conversation. The city skyline stretched endlessly behind the tables, a sea of twinkling stars mirrored below.

Yuna’s heart pounded as she scanned the crowd. Then, her eyes landed on him.

Tall, impeccably dressed, with a presence that seemed to command the space around him. Kang Minjae.

Yuna felt the blood rush from her face.

She took a deep breath, forcing a smile, and slid into the seat across from him.

“Jiwoo?” His voice was calm, smooth, and utterly confident.

Yuna nodded. “Yes. That’s me.”

He smiled, a subtle, knowing smile. “You look… different from the pictures.”

Yuna laughed nervously. “The camera adds ten pounds, right?”

Minjae’s gaze was sharp, almost amused. “Is that your favorite excuse?”

She shrugged, cheeks warming. “Maybe.”

The waiter arrived, pouring wine as the city lights flickered softly around them.

They exchanged small smiles, and Yuna mustered the courage to tell him that she wanted to end this blind date immediately as she is uninterested.

A breeze swept past, tugging lightly at her hair. Minjae reached across the table with her business card.

Minjae grabs her business card, and hands her his'

Yuna kept up the act. Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her purse. She glanced down—a message from Jiwoo: Be careful!

Yuna smiled to herself. If only Jiwoo knew how surreal this all was.

For a while, they talked—light, casual things about work, hobbies, life.

Finally, Yuna looked into the time from her phone, sighed, pushing her glass away. “Look, can I be honest?”

Minjae raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I’m not really into this whole thing,” Yuna said bluntly. “I'm not interested in these blind dates, so I’d rather just go home.”

Yuna stood up and left the table.

Minjae blinked, clearly surprised by her frankness.

Yuna gathered her purse and stepped away. Outside, the cool night air hit her cheeks as she hailed a cab.

Sitting back, she reached for her phone—and her fingers brushed something against the floor of the cab. She bent down and picked it up.

A sleek business card.

She stared, stunned.

The name printed boldly in black ink: Kang Minjae

CEO, EON Fashions

Her heart skipped a beat.

The man she had just left—her “date”—was her CEO.

The night that started as a favor for a friend had just turned into something far more complicated.

The scent of fresh fabric and the steady hum of sewing machines filled the bustling design floor of EON Fashions. Beneath the glow of hanging lamps and between rolls of imported textiles, Yuna Kang weaved through the chaos, clutching her sketchpad and a cup of half-finished coffee.

She wasn’t supposed to be here this early. But after last night’s disastrous “date,” sleep hadn’t come easy.

“I pretended to be my best friend, walked out on the guy… and he turned out to be my CEO,” she muttered under her breath.

“Morning, Yuna!” Taeyang, the ever-cheerful intern, popped up beside her like a jack-in-the-box.

She flinched. “Jeez, Taeyang. Do you have to hover?”

He grinned. “You're unusually early. Trouble sleeping, or… man trouble?”

Yuna gave him a flat look. “Neither. Just... motivated.”

“Sure, sure,” he said with a knowing smile, walking backward. “You’re glowing. Must be the caffeine—or love!”

She groaned and made her way toward the workspace, where Areum and Sena were already knee-deep in fabric swatches.

“Don’t even ask,” Yuna said before either could speak.

Sena raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t say anything.”

“Yet.”

Areum giggled softly. “You do look… flustered. Good date?”

Yuna shot her a glare as she dropped into her chair. “Let’s just say I’ll be avoiding all rooftop restaurants from now on.”

Before either of them could dig further, the intercom chimed across the floor: “All department leads and junior designers, please gather in Conference Room B for an impromptu creative review with the CEO.”

Yuna froze mid-sip. “No. No, no, no. Not today.”

“Guess he’s back,” Sena said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Areum blinked. “Wait, didn’t the CEO go on a blind date last night? Someone said he walked out early.”

Yuna didn’t respond. Her hands were already trembling as she fumbled to close her sketchpad.

—

Inside the sleek, glass-walled conference room, Kang Minjae stood tall in his signature black suit, his expression unreadable as always. He nodded curtly as each employee entered.

But when Yuna slipped inside, something flickered in his gaze—recognition, amusement, maybe even curiosity.

He said nothing.

Instead, he addressed the room in his usual clipped, efficient tone. “I asked to see a sample of your latest design submissions. One concept from each team. Quick feedback. Let’s go.”

As the meeting progressed, Minjae’s eyes occasionally drifted back to Yuna—who did her best not to meet them. She kept her head down, flipping to her sketches only when prompted, speaking minimally.

When it was her turn, she placed her design in front of him—structured, bold silhouettes with soft textures, a quiet contradiction.

Minjae stared at it, then at her. “This is yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

His lips curved slightly. “It’s unexpected. In a good way.”

Yuna blinked. “Thank you.”

“Do you usually sketch alone?”

“I prefer it.”

He looked like he was about to say more, but then turned to the next employee, shifting focus like nothing happened.

Yuna exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

—

After the meeting, Seo Hyunwoo followed his boss into the executive office, tablet in hand. The glass door slid shut behind them with a hush.

“About last night’s date,” Hyunwoo began, adjusting his glasses.

“I’m not interested,” Minjae said simply.

Hyunwoo raised a brow. “Then why did you ask me to look into her this morning?”

Minjae didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest.

“She’s not Jiwoo Lee,” he finally said.

“No, sir,” Hyunwoo replied, already knowing.

“But she claimed she was,” Minjae mused. “And walked out halfway through.”

Hyunwoo nodded. “She’s a junior designer here. Kang Yuna. Good reputation. Never caused trouble.”

Minjae smirked faintly. “She’s awkward. Rambled about wine. Barely looked me in the eye. And then left without finishing dinner.”

“You’re saying all this like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is,” Minjae replied. “Yet… I want to see her again.”

Hyunwoo looked up from his tablet, mildly surprised. “Another date?”

“No. Not a date,” Minjae said quickly. “Just… schedule something casual. Coffee. A follow-up.”

Hyunwoo tilted his head. “Casual coffee with an employee who lied to your face and then ditched you mid-dinner.”

Minjae looked out the window, at the skyline he usually found boring but now seemed full of possibility.

“She’s interesting.”

—

Downstairs, Yuna was trying to steady her nerves by hiding behind a mountain of fabric rolls.

“He didn’t say anything. He didn’t mention the date,” she whispered, heart still thundering. “Maybe he doesn’t recognize me. Maybe he has blind date amnesia.”

“Yuna,” Sena called, walking past. “You okay?”

“Fine!” she squeaked. “Totally fine.”

Her phone buzzed. A new message.

Unknown Number: Coffee, 5 PM. Rooftop Café. Don’t worry—I won’t bring wine this time. - KM

Yuna’s mouth fell open.

“Oh no,” she muttered. “He definitely remembers.”

The buzz of sewing machines filled the air as Yuna Kang stitched the final hem of a client’s evening gown. Threads of concentration wrapped tightly around her, but even that couldn’t muffle the distant thunder rumbling in her chest. She hadn’t seen Minjae since the blind date fiasco, but her nerves hadn’t quieted since. What if he recognized her? What if he said something?

She bit her lower lip and tried to refocus, only to be interrupted by her coworker Eunjae nudging her playfully. “Yuna, you’ve been zoning out all morning. Who is he?”

Yuna flinched. “Wh-What? Who’s who?”

Eunjae giggled. “You’ve got that look. It’s either love or trouble.”

“Definitely trouble,” mumbled Kyungmin, another colleague, from behind his clipboard.

Yuna waved them off, cheeks warming. “Nothing happened.”

Her phone buzzed softly on her desk. She glanced down to see a new message:

Kang Minjae: Coffee, 5 PM. Rooftop Café. Don’t worry—I won’t bring wine this time.

Her breath caught.

Meanwhile, inside the sleek walls of EON Fashions' headquarters, Kang Minjae leaned back in his leather chair, arms crossed, watching the skyline.

“She lied to my face,” he muttered.

Seo Hyunwoo, his bespectacled and ever-stoic secretary, tilted his head. “The blind date girl?”

Minjae didn’t look away from the window. “She claimed she was Jiwoo Lee. But I confirmed the real Jiwoo was out of the country that day. So who did I meet?”

Hyunwoo adjusted his glasses. “You want me to look into her?”

“I already did,” Minjae said coolly, finally turning back. “Yuna Kang. Assistant designer. Works here. Has no idea who I was during the date.”

“And that bothers you?” Hyunwoo asked, though his voice was neutral.

Minjae’s jaw ticked. “No one lies to me. And no one walks out on me.”

Just then, the door swung open. Minjae’s grandfather, Kang Daejin, entered with the energy of a man thirty years younger.

“You’re still single,” Daejin declared. “I’m dying before you give me great-grandchildren.”

“You’re not dying,” Minjae replied calmly.

“Not yet. But soon, probably!” his grandfather waved him off. “Anyway, I arranged three more blind dates for this month.”

Minjae sighed. “Grandfather—”

“No arguments. Either you pick someone or I will.”

When Daejin finally left, Minjae’s shoulders slumped.

Hyunwoo, after a moment, said, “You need someone who benefits you. Not love—utility. A solution.”

Minjae’s eyes narrowed. “Someone who owes me... someone bold enough to lie to my face.”

The clock on Yuna’s desk ticked closer to five. Her fingers hovered over her sketchpad, but her mind was elsewhere. That simple message from Kang Minjae—Coffee, 5 PM. Rooftop Café. Don’t worry—I won’t bring wine this time—had lodged itself in her thoughts all day.

She sighed, packing her bag as the final rays of sunlight spilled into the studio. The city’s skyline glittered as she stepped into the elevator, heart pounding with every floor she climbed.

The rooftop café was eerily quiet.

No soft chatter, no clinking cups—just polished tables set under warm string lights and an unobstructed view of the sprawling city below.

She scanned the space, noting the absence of any other patrons.

That’s when she spotted him.

Kang Minjae stood near the corner table, impeccably dressed, hands folded, his expression unreadable but intense.

She pulled out the chair opposite him, sitting with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Minjae slid a sleek folder across the table.

He looked unreadable.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, voice low and steady. “About the mess you made on our last meeting, Miss Kang, or should I say, Miss Jiwoo?”

Yuna bowed her head. “I didn’t mean—”

“You lied. Sat across from me pretending to be someone else.”

“I was doing a favor!” she said quickly. “It wasn’t meant to hurt anyone.”

“You wasted my time,” he said flatly.

She nodded, ashamed. “I understand. I’ll accept whatever decision you make.”

Minjae tapped a pen against the desk. “Any consequence?”

Yuna blinked. “Y-Yes.”

He stood, walked toward her, and handed her a folder. She opened it, confused, to see a mock-up of a contract.

“Marry me.”

Yuna choked on her breath. “Excuse me?”

“A contract marriage. You pretend to be my wife. I pretend to fall for it. My grandfather gets off my back. You pay your debt. Everyone wins.”

She gaped. “You’re insane.”

He didn’t flinch. “No. I’m efficient.”

“I’m not doing that,” she whispered.

“You already started the lie, Miss Kang,” he said coolly. “Now you can finish it.”