The Lee family living room had never seen such a high concentration of concentrated brooding.

Jun-ho and Si-woo sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa, while a laptop glowed on the coffee table between them. Behind the screen, Su-bin sat cross-legged, her fingers moving across the trackpad with the terrifying precision of a cyber-warfare specialist.

"Okay," Su-bin said, her face illuminated by the blue light. "I’ve bypassed his private settings. He’s not as 'saintly' as you think. He doesn't have his profile locked down against someone with my... skills."

"You mean you looked at his 'tagged' photos?" Jun-ho asked, popping a piece of the 70% dark chocolate into his mouth.

"I mean, I found his roommate’s public Instagram, which led me to the Soccer Club’s official page, which led me to the university’s 'Spotted' forum," Su-bin corrected with a look of pure disdain. "Look at this."

She turned the laptop around. There was a photo of Jace. He was on a soccer field, sweaty, laughing, and being hugged by three girls in cheerleading uniforms.

"Look at that grip," Si-woo hissed, leaning in so close his nose almost touched the screen. "His hand is positioned for a high-efficiency hug. He has practiced this. It is a calculated move of a philanderer."

"It’s just a sports photo, Si-woo," Jun-ho groaned, though he was secretly recording every pixel of Jace's "perfect" face to find a flaw. "Wait—is that a blemish? Right there, on his chin?"

"That’s a water droplet, Oppa," Su-bin sighed. "Face it. He’s a ten. A global ten. He’s studying Architecture, he’s the starting striker, and according to this post from last month, he volunteered at a local animal shelter."

"An animal shelter?" Jun-ho slumped back. "Man, that’s cheating. No one can compete with puppies."

"It is a classic diversion tactic," Si-woo noted, crossing his arms. "He uses the vulnerability of the dogs to mask his own predatory nature. We must warn Min-ah."

"Warn her about what?" Su-bin asked, shutting the laptop lid with a snap. "That her boyfriend is a successful, kind, handsome guy? She knows. That’s why she’s been dating him since she was fifteen."

The room went silent. The truth was more bitter than the chocolate.

"Fifteen?" Si-woo whispered. "That is... a very long time. That is not a 'high school romance.' That is a historical era."

"Exactly," Su-bin said, standing up and holding out her hand. "Now, where’s the rest of that French chocolate you promised? Investigation fees aren't cheap."

Si-woo reached into his bag and handed over a premium box of truffles. Su-bin took them, did a little victory dance, and disappeared into her room, leaving the two boys in the dark.

Jun-ho looked at Si-woo. "We're doomed, aren't we?"

"In a fair fight? Yes," Si-woo replied, his eyes reflecting the moonlight coming through the window. "But we are not in a fair fight. We are in a war of attrition. He is in America. We are at Café 90s. We are the ones who see her every day. We are the ones who see her when she is tired, when she is hungry, and when her grandmother is yelling at her."

Jun-ho nodded slowly. "The 'Daily Presence' strategy. We make ourselves so essential to her life that when he comes back for that 'visit' in two months, he feels like a total stranger."

"Exactly," Si-woo said, standing up and smoothing out his turtleneck. "We do not fight him. We will simply... out-exist him."

"And the 'Security Audit'?" Jun-ho asked.

"We keep watching," Si-woo said. "If he slips up—if he hugs a cheerleader for one second too long—we will be there to provide the 'emotional support' Min-ah will inevitably need."

Jun-ho stood up too. He felt a strange sense of purpose. For three years, he’d been pining in silence. Now, he had a partner in crime who was just as desperate and twice as dramatic.

"See you at the cafe at 8:00 AM?" Jun-ho asked.

"7:45 AM," Si-woo corrected. "I wish to practice my latte art. If I cannot be a soccer star, I will at least be the man who makes the perfect foam heart."

"You’re going to burn the milk again," Jun-ho called out as Si-woo headed for the door.

"And you are going to stare at the door like a lost puppy!" Si-woo shouted back.

As the door closed, Jun-ho looked at the empty spot on the floor. He realised he hadn't thought about his "underdog" status once in the last hour. He was too busy planning a tactical takeover of a coffee shop.

The "Class Rep Bodyguards" weren't official yet, but as Jun-ho went to bed, he had a feeling that the American soccer saint was in for a very difficult two months.