Chapter 2

Yeonhoo stared at his reflection in the glass.

A white shirt that hung just loose enough to look effortless, beige-and-gray trousers cuffed neatly at the ankles—everything chosen to seem casual while landing exactly right. His light ash-brown hair, blow-dried for a full twenty minutes, fell naturally over his lids, and every time it shifted, the sharp, catlike tilt of his eyes flashed through.

It was the kind of “natural” that took work.

And Yeonhoo looked like he might throw up anyway.

“Whew...”

He drew a small breath, then turned his head.

Across the street sat a café.

He’d circled the place so many times he could’ve worn a groove into the sidewalk. When he finally managed to push the door open and step inside, it felt less like entering a café and more like crossing a line he might not be able to uncross.

“Hi, welcome!”

A bright voice spilled out with the chime of the bell. Yeonhoo’s mouth twitched upward before he could stop it—then he forced his lips into a straight line, like nothing had happened.

Do you believe in love?

Do you believe in fate?

“Can I take your order?”

Yeonhoo did.

He lifted his gaze.

At the counter, a small woman stood ready to take his order.

A tiny face, eyes round and strikingly large. She smiled, and Yeonhoo’s hand tightened by reflex, fingers curling like he needed something to hold onto.

“Signature Einspänner again today, to go?”

The café employee—Miyoung—asked in a gentle, careful voice. Yeonhoo snapped his head to the side, hiding ears that were trying their hardest to turn pink.

“...Yes.”

He answered while trying to smother the sound of his own heart, and Miyoung continued with patient kindness.

“Okay—please insert your card here! Do you need a receipt?”

“No.”

“Got it! Here’s your pager. Just wait a moment!”

Yeonhoo tried to look calm. He really did.

But when she handed him the pager, his heart kicked so hard his legs went a little watery. Without meaning to, he practically snatched the card back and took the pager like it was evidence, then turned around fast—because if he stayed facing her any longer, something embarrassing was going to happen.

Even while he waited for his coffee, he kept sneaking glances at her, acting like he absolutely wasn’t.

“Miyoung, we’re out of this.”

“Yeah, I put a new one right next to it!”

“Then after that order, this one—”

Nobody else paid attention to the staff chatting behind the counter, but Yeonhoo perked up like a dog hearing its name. He listened for every syllable of Miyoung’s voice—greedy for it.

And the moment she looked his way, Yeonhoo whipped his head aside like he’d never been staring at all.

She’s so cute today too.

His ears burned bright red while his face stayed cold enough that a stranger might’ve mistaken him for pissed off.

That was Yeonhoo lately:

Hopelessly, shamelessly in love.

He still couldn’t forget the first time he’d seen her—back in the summer, when the heat had been thick and brutal.

*****

Why does Taemin sleep in every single day...?

His friend Taemin had texted him to say he’d be late, and sitting in the car was miserable. Hot, thirsty, irritated. Yeonhoo had walked into a café nearby just to order something and wait.

The place was called Nova.

“Hi!”

“One watermelon juice, please.”

“Ah—! Yes, of course.”

Yeonhoo ran hot to begin with, the type to sweat if the sun looked at him wrong. He hadn’t realized how savage the late-summer heat still was, had thrown on long sleeves, and was now sweating like he’d been dragged out of a pool.

He’d ordered the first drink he saw and lifted his head thinking, If anyone picks a fight with me in this weather, I might actually kill them.

That was the moment—

“It’s so hot, right!”

She smiled at him and lifted a small handheld fan—clearly hers—and held it in front of his face for a few seconds.

“I’ll make it for you right away.”

Her face moved like slow motion.

In Yeonhoo’s head, baby angels blasted trumpets. His eyes went wide, and something in his chest clicked into place with horrifying clarity.

This is... love.

That was the instant it began: a sudden crush, as abrupt and violent as a car accident.

If his friends had seen him then, they would’ve screamed about how many times his “true love” had started this year alone. And honestly, they’d have had a point.

Because at twenty-six, Yeonhoo’s long history of falling in love—

This time it’s real.

—had just entered its forty-sixth round.

This time, Yeonhoo meant it. He’d been coming to see Miyoung every day for almost two months.

When he told his friends he’d fallen for a café employee, they all laughed in his face.

“Wonder how long this one’ll last. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s done this.”

“Yeonhoo likes someone again??”

“Man, I was wondering why you’d been quiet. Who is it this time?”

Even when it started going on longer than usual and they began to hesitate—maybe this one’s different?—none of them quite looked convinced.

How could this be fake?

Yeonhoo never doubted his feelings for a second. To anyone watching, his sharp stare at the counter might’ve looked like he was in a bad mood.

Meanwhile, inside his head:

She’s a baby rabbit. Miyoung is adorable.

His brain was already a Miyoung-only flower field. His heart kept babbling compliments like it was a full-time job. His pulse wouldn’t shut up.

And Yeonhoo made sure none of it showed.

Because if he let it slip, he might actually say something out loud—something like my love, my baby rabbit—and then he’d have to walk into the ocean.

“Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you!”

He took his coffee and forced himself to sit, crushing down the urge to hover at the counter just to stare at her longer.

Yeonhoo sat in his usual seat—one that was tucked just out of the way, hidden enough not to look obvious, but positioned perfectly so he could see Miyoung without craning his neck.

20XX / XX / XX

Taemin

YoonmoYoonmo

Where the hell are you? 4:12 PM

Yeonhoo

I’m at a café. 4:13 PM

Taemin

Don’t tell me you’re parked there again because “fate” and whatever, waiting to see that Miyoung girl. 4:13 PM

Yeonhoo

Miyoung. 4:13 PM

Taemin

lol okay... Miyoung. Sure. 4:13 PM

Yeonhoo

Yeah. Good. 4:14 PM

Taemin

No but seriously, you still don’t have anything???

Can’t you just confess already??

If it’s you, she’d probably say yes. 4:14 PM

Yeonhoo blinked at the incoming messages.

Confess...

Truth was, he knew he wasn’t unattractive. Objectively.

He hadn’t spent his whole life getting rejected. He’d dated before.

But it’s never worked out with someone I actually like.

*****

Incoming call

Taemin

Swipe to answer

Yeonhoo wasn’t surprised. Taemin knew everything, and curiosity always ate him alive.

Yeonhoo stared at the name on the screen, then glanced toward the counter. Miyoung was tidying up, and Yeonhoo’s mouth wanted to lift again all on its own.

The buzzing didn’t stop.

He’s going to keep calling until I pick up.

Yeonhoo clicked his tongue and stood.

“Yeah, Taemin.”

He answered in a lazy drawl and slipped outside.

At the smoking area beside the café, he reached for a cigarette—then froze.

Miyoung probably hates the smell of smoke.

He shoved it back into his pocket instead.

On the other end, Taemin launched in immediately.

“So you’re at the café again? Seeing your ‘love’?”

“Told you. Want to hang up? I need to look at Miyoung’s face some more.”

“...Jesus. It’s still weird hearing you talk like this. Your crush settings are fucking extreme—on or off, no middle.”

Yeonhoo blinked, then answered quietly.

“What am I supposed to do? I like her.”

His voice had that slow, slightly muddled rhythm it always did.

“I think this one’s real...”

There was nothing aggressive in it. No swagger. Just soft, earnest sincerity—so gentle it accidentally took the fight out of people.

Taemin sighed like he’d lost.

“Fine. Whatever. Do you even talk to her? With your forty-something ‘destiny’?”

“I do.”

“Oh yeah? What do you talk about?”

“What I want to drink. Insert my card. Do I need a receipt.”

“...Wow. Incredible.”

Taemin sounded genuinely stunned.

“That’s what you call conversation?”

“Hey. This time—okay? Let’s do it easy. Walk up and get her number.”

At the simple advice, Yeonhoo blinked again and let his eyes drift back toward the counter, where Miyoung moved between tasks like she belonged in the space.

“I thought about it. Seriously. Then I gave up.”

“Why? Does she have a boyfriend?”

“No. I heard she’s been single for a while.”

“You seriously collect the most useless intel... Okay, then what’s the problem?”

“Just...”

Yeonhoo said it with absolute conviction, like it was the most obvious fact in the world.

“How is an angel supposed to give her number to a human?”