Chapter 2

Mornings, Coffee, and Clueless Collisions

Y/N POV

She stood in front of her closet with a wet toothbrush still in her mouth, holding up a plain white blouse and a cream one.

Y/N (muffled): "White says ‘hire me’, cream says ‘I’m desperate’. White it is."

By 7:45 AM, she was fully dressed: white tucked blouse, navy trousers, and a beige blazer. Hair tied in a clean mid-bun, light makeup, practical flats. Resume copies in one folder, references in another.

She grabbed her bag and ran to catch the MTR. It was already packed.

Lady beside her: (not even whispering) "She looks like one of those drama girls. Probably off to meet her CEO boyfriend."

Y/N glanced up, locked eyes with her reflection in the train door.

Y/N (internal): "Lady, I’m going to beg for a job, not shoot a K-drama."

She got off at Central Avenue. Her phone said 8:14 AM. The interview was at 9. She spotted the small café she bookmarked the night before. A chalkboard menu outside read:

> Today’s Combo: Black Coffee + Butter Toast \= ₩3,500.

Perfect. Cheap, quick, close to the building.

The smell of roasted beans and baked bread hit her as soon as she walked in. The place was warm, busy but not overcrowded. She pulled her folder tighter to her chest and stepped toward the counter.

Y/N: "Hi, just a butter toast and a small black—"

---

Jay pov

I stood near the entrance, back turned, phone to my ear, a fresh Americano in my left hand. The grey suit was pressed, shoes spotless. I was scrolling through my calendar, speaking into the airPods.

Jay: "Mom, I already said no. I’m not meeting some stranger you found through your yoga club."

I turned—without looking

---

Back to Y/N POV

WHAM.

Hot liquid burst across her chest and shoulder. Her folder dropped, papers spilling onto the café floor.

Y/N (shocked): "Are you—what—oh my god!"

She stared down at her now half-brown blouse. Coffee dripped from her collar onto her blazer. Her resumes were soaked.

The man in front of her glanced up.

Jay: "Watch it."

Y/N: "Excuse me? You literally walked into me with a steaming cup of death."

Jay: "You were in the way."

Y/N: "Right. I’ll just stand behind the counter next time. Makes perfect sense."

He looked her up and down briefly, unimpressed, and walked away toward the exit, still on the phone.

Jay: "Yeah, someone spilled coffee on me. No, I didn’t spill it. Never mind."

She stood there, stunned, furious, and dripping caffeine.

Y/N (muttering): "What a jackass. I hope your Wi-Fi lags forever."

>: Collision Course

Y/N POV

The coffee stain had settled into her shirt like a cursed watermark. The smell of roasted bitterness clung to her collar. As she walked toward Park Enterprises, every step felt like she was being dragged toward humiliation.

Her resume folder, once crisp and proud, now looked like it had gone through a bad breakup. She tried to wipe off what she could at the café’s napkin stand, but the paper was blotched, and the corners curled up in protest.

It was 8:35. She had twenty-five minutes.

She passed by the fountains near the building entrance. People in suits were buzzing in and out, their ID badges bouncing against pressed shirts, phones glued to ears, coffee cups still steaming. No one looked like they spilled anything today. No one looked like her.

She tightened her grip on her bag.

The lobby of Park Enterprises was glass and granite. Tall, cold, quiet—like it charged you per breath. She walked to the front desk, trying not to fidget with her damp cuff.

Receptionist (softly): “Interview candidates, fifth floor. Take the right elevator.”

Y/N: “Thank you.”

She walked toward the elevator with practiced calm, but inside, her chest was thudding.

The elevator was silver, clean, mirrored. She stared at herself. The coffee had left a faint brown patch across her right shoulder. She turned slightly, adjusted her blazer to cover it. It didn’t work.

A woman stepped in beside her. Older, sharply dressed, holding a file.

Woman: “First interview?”

Y/N: “No… I’ve done a few.”

Woman: (nods) “You’ll be fine. They like confident answers. Just don’t try to act smarter than the panel.”

Y/N: “I’ll just try not to look like I ran through a Starbucks explosion.”

They both laughed lightly, the tension breaking a bit.

Elevator voice: “Fifth floor.”

Y/N (internal): “You got this. Just speak clearly. Don’t overtalk. And please, for once, don’t trip over a sentence.”

She stepped into the hall. Long, wide, modern. Frosted doors, labeled offices, expensive art on the walls. She walked slowly, heels silent on the grey carpet.

She reached the door marked “Interview Room A.”

Took a deep breath.

Hand on the knob.

Opened it—

And there he was.

The coffee guy.

Sitting behind the table.

No AirPods this time. No cup in hand.

Just a clean black suit, a watch that probably cost more than her rent, and a bored expression that froze the moment he saw her.

Her heart dropped.

Jay POV

She walked in looking like she'd been steamrolled by a printer—but her chin was high.

Jay leaned back in the chair, expression unreadable. It was her.

He remembered the coffee incident. Vaguely annoying. He hadn’t thought twice about it after walking out.

But now she was here. For a job?

His eyes scanned her quickly. Stained collar. Damp folder. Cheeks red—embarrassed, probably. But she met his gaze.

Brave, he’d give her that.

Panel Member 1: “You must be Miss Y/N?”

Y/N: “Yes. Thank you for having me.”

Her voice was even. Not smug. Not flustered. Just... present.

Jay: “You're five minutes early.”

Y/N: “Better than five minutes late, I suppose.”

Panel Member 2: “Let’s begin. Tell us about your background.”

She answered smoothly. Spoke about her education, her internships. Her experience working with property contracts and small litigation cases.

Jay listened, arms folded. He didn’t interrupt. Not yet.

But when the questions shifted to handling corporate crises, he cut in.

Jay: “What would you do if a senior client leaked sensitive company data during an acquisition meeting?”

She looked at him. Not flinching. Her fingers pressed into her folder, but she didn't stammer.

Y/N: “First, I’d document the incident with full context. Then I’d assess potential legal breaches—NDA violations, liability paths. I’d brief the in-house legal head immediately and prepare statements if media coverage becomes a factor.”

Jay didn’t move. But something twitched in his jaw. She answered well. Very well.

Too bad she called him a jerk in a café.

Too bad she didn’t recognize him then.

Jay: “We’ll be in touch.”

Her face flickered. That was it?

Y/N: “Thank you for your time.”

She stood, bowed slightly to the panel, and walked out.

As the door clicked behind her, Jay leaned back again. Silent.

One of the panel members turned to him.

Panel Member 2: “She was sharp. Even with the... messy look.”

Jay didn’t respond.

Because he was already thinking of what to do next.