It’s been a week since I agreed to fake-date Kang Minjae.

Seven full days. And nothing remotely eventful has happened. No press releases about our relationship. No texts from him. Not one thing.
He said I could move in with him next month, as to avoid any suspicion. I’d groaned, obviously, but to make up for it he said he’d come visit me soon—but that promise disappeared into the void.

The only actual proof I have that this whole thing even happened? He gave me his number.

 Not that he ever answers. 

A sharp knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and I scramble off the bed, heart skipping. The fact that they knocked at all already tells me it’s not Sang-hee—thank god. That woman doesn’t believe in things like personal boundaries or common courtesy.

“Come in,” I call, smoothing out my voice.

“Are you sure you want to let me in?”

I nearly scream. Not because the voice is unfamiliar—but because I know exactly who it belongs to.

“W–wait!” I hiss, panic-throwing a sweater over the paper-thin tank top I’d been lounging in. I fumble with the lock, heart thudding, and crack the door open just enough to peek outside.

There he is.

Kang Minjae. Dressed in a perfectly tailored blazer, hair neat, expression unreadable. The living embodiment of every cold male lead.

“Good morning, Sera,” he greets. Somehow, the way he says Sera—like it actually means something to him—awakens a weird flutter in the pit of my stomach. 

God, If this is what fake-dating him felt like, I’d sign up for a lifetime subscription.

“Morning,” I manage to mutter, before grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him into my room. The door clicks shut behind us.

“What in the world are you doing here?” I whisper-hiss, crossing my arms.

He looks mildly amused. “I told you I’d come see you last week. Apologies for the delay. My schedule’s been packed the past few days.”

“Oh. You were serious?” I blink.

“Of course.” He adjusts his cuff, not even looking at me. “We may not be actual lovers, but I always keep my word, Ms. Yoo.”

Wow. So romantic. Truly. I swoon.

“You can call me by my name, you know.” I raise a brow.

He exhales like I just asked him to strip. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to address each other so informally at this stage, Ms. Yoo.”

“You literally called me Sera thirty seconds ago.”

“That…was a more appropriate situat—”

“Minjae.”

He freezes mid-sentence.

I smirk. “There. Now we’re even.”

Something like a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches me. It’s barely there—more like the ghost of amusement—but it still manages to do things to my heart I’m not proud of.

Then his gaze dips, eyes trailing down the length of my figure, lingering for a beat too long on the oversized sweater I’d thrown on in a panic. A shiver crawls up my spine, and not from the cold.

He clears his throat, like he’s just remembered why he’s here. “So… where’s your sister?”

I freeze.

Of course. Of course he’d ask about her.

Is this fate stepping in to realign the plot? A gentle nudge from the universe to remind me that I’m a background character, not the heroine? Was I really being delusional, thinking I could just waltz around Seoul fake-dating Kang Minjae?

I tug at the sleeves of my sweater, fingers curling in the fabric. “Um…I don’t know. I’m not really close with her.”

He pauses. Blinks.

“You’re not?” His brows rise, genuine surprise flickering across his face for the first time all morning.

I force a shrug. “Sorry to disappoint. She’s been avoiding me, so I can’t really do anything about it.” 

It’s the truth. Ever since I arrived here, the only words she’s spoken to me were during that blind date. We live in the same house, but I barely see her. I’m sure I could run into her if I really tried, but I don’t care enough to bother.

“I see.” Minjae’s expression shifts, just slightly, and something flickers across his face. And then, without warning, he reaches out and takes my hand.

I freeze. My entire face goes red, like all the blood in my body decided to sprint there.

“Sera,” he says quietly, “promise me something.”

My breath catches. His skin against mine is colder than expected, but not unpleasant. And my heart? That traitorous thing is doing cartwheels again.

“S-sure,” I manage to stammer.

“Don’t trust Yuri.”

His voice cracks—just a bit, barely audible—but I catch it. For the first time since I met him, his cool, unbothered exterior breaks. And I have no idea what to do with that.

“I won’t?” It comes out like a question—probably because it is one—but the moment I say it, his grip relaxes. He lets go of my hand and straightens, slipping effortlessly back into his usual composed expression like nothing happened.

My fingers feel cold where his hand used to be.

“…Can I ask why?” I ask carefully, still watching him, trying to figure out what just happened.

He doesn’t answer right away. His brows knit slightly, like he’s turning the question over in his head, searching for the right words—but before he can speak, there’s a sudden knock at the door. 

“Yoo Sera.”

Speak of the devil.

Yuri’s voice cuts through the room like the blade of a cold knife. I turn toward the door, exhaling through my nose as I open it.

She’s standing there, perfectly poised as always, her long dark hair tucked neatly behind one ear, lips painted the exact same mauve color she always wears.

“Sang-hee is looking for you,” she says, her tone unreadable. “She told me to tell you to meet her in her room.”

I blink. Huh?

That’s odd. If Sang-hee actually wanted to see me, she’d either come herself, or send one of the maids. She wouldn’t send Yuri, not even in the webnovel. Still, I nod.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell Minjae over my shoulder.

His gaze lingers on me, but he doesn’t say anything.

I step out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me with a soft click, and start walking in the direction of Sang-hee’s bedroom.