Chapter Three - I Trap Him

We’re supposed to be reviewing the stage layout for the Übermensch Korea concert.

Supposed to.

But instead,

“Okay, let’s bet!” Taeyang suddenly announces, slapping the table like a gambling uncle at a wedding. “Jiyong will make her attend the Übermensch concert.”

I blink. “YA! What do you mean bet?! I’m not a horse!”

“Exactly,” Taeyang smirks. “You’re a dark thoroughbred with no sense of pacing. I say she shows up. VIP section. Shiny hair. Emotional slow-mo entrance.”

T.O.P adjusts his sunglasses, leans back with criminally expensive coolness.

“I bet 100 dollars.”

“HYUNG?!” I look at him, betrayed.

T.O.P shrugs. “I know love when I see a man spiraling. This is premium drama.”

Daesung narrows his eyes. “Hyung, gambling will send you to hell.”

T.O.P doesn’t blink. “Don’t participate then.”

A beat of silence.

Daesung slams his hand on the table.

“500 DOLLARS! She won’t come.”

“DEAL.” T.O.P snaps, shaking Daesung’s hand like they just sold a stockpile of NFTs.

“GUYS STOP USING MY EMOTIONAL TRAUMA AS A SPORTS EVENT,” I yell, hands flailing like I’m directing an orchestra of chaos.

“Jiyong,” Taeyang says calmly, “your emotional trauma is a sports event. The whole nation is watching.”

“Exactly,” Daesung nods. “We’re just monetizing it.”

I collapse into my chair, face in hands.

“I hate all of you.”

T.O.P sips his americano like a retired hitman.

“You’ll thank us when she shows up crying in the rain during the encore.”

And right at that moment, the gates of chaos open wider.

Tiger hyung walks into the room like a calm postman delivering a love letter to a battlefield.

“Jiyong, this is what you asked for.”He hands me a folder, deadpan.

I flip it open, and nearly choke.

“They’re thinking about… Byeon Woo Seok for the brand ambassador,” he adds casually, like he just told me I lost a game of Uno.

“HUH?!” I stand up so fast my chair skids backwards. “That guy?!”

Before anyone can breathe, T.O.P launches up like he’s at an auction house.

“1000 DOLLARS!” he shouts, holding his card in the air like a man possessed.

Everyone stares.

“Jiyong will definitely become the brand ambassador,” he declares. “This is now personal.”

I’m flailing like a cartoon character. “YA! You guys are insane!”

Daesung nods solemnly, arms crossed like a fake monk.

“There’s no need to bet, hyung. It’s already written in the scrolls of destiny. He will make it happen.”

Taeyang’s halfway off his chair laughing. “What scrolls?! This isn’t a sageuk drama!”

“YES IT IS,” I snap. “And I’m the main character! And this is my revenge arc!”

T.O.P is already pretending to give a victory speech. “When Jiyong becomes the ambassador and marries her, I will be the godfather of their brand deal.”

“WE’RE NOT EVEN DATING,” I yell. “SHE JUST GAVE ME HER NUMBER.”

“Exactly,” Daesung says, nodding with the wisdom of a confused raccoon.

CHAOS. TOTAL. FULL. CHAOS.

--

The meeting finally ends.

Papers shuffled, chairs pushed back, laptops closed.

But I’m still sitting there… staring at my phone like it’s about to perform surgery on my heart.

Daesung peeks over my shoulder.“Hyung, you haven’t blinked in six minutes.”

“Just text her already,” Taeyang mutters, rubbing his temples. “It’s not a nuclear code.”

Suddenly, T.O.P lunges.

“OH MY GOD. GIVE ME YOUR DAMN PHONE.”

“YA YA YA!!!” I scream, scrambling like a cat on a wet floor. “Hyung! NO! HYUNGGGGGGG!!!”

Too late.

T.O.P’s got it.One thumb tap. One evil smirk.

“Sent.”He tosses it back at me like he just dropped a grenade.

I catch it mid-air, breath hitching as I open the screen.

‘Dinner?’

JUST. ONE. WORD.No context. No emojis. No explanation.Psychopath behavior.

“DAMN ITTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!” I scream like I’ve just lost a K-drama finale.

Taeyang facepalms so hard his soul leaves his body.

Daesung’s already on the floor wheezing. “D-did he just text her like she’s a pizza delivery hotline?”

“WHO SAYS JUST DINNER?!” I shriek. “Not even a ‘hey’! Not even a question mark with FEELINGS!”

T.O.P crosses his arms, smug as hell.

“Simple. Direct. Masculine.”

“YOU’RE NOT IN A SPY MOVIE, HYUNG!”

Taeyang pats my shoulder, barely containing his laugh. “Well, if she replies… marry her.”

Daesung: “If she replies, we should frame the message and hang it in the studio.”

Now I wait.On the edge of my seat.Breathing like I just ran a marathon.

God, if you love me, make her reply.

Fifteen minutes.

FIFTEEN.

I’m still frozen in the same exact position, elbows on the table, face in my hands, phone screen burning into my eyeballs.

Silence.

Death.

“Maybe she gave you a pizza hotline number, hyung,” Daesung says cheerfully as he zips his bag.

“Don’t call her. Don’t double text. Don’t be clingy,” Taeyang chimes in like some spiritual life coach.

T.O.P is already halfway out the door. “If she replies, I want royalties.”

The room slowly empties out. I’m left alone in the echo of my own embarrassment.

I exhale like a dying historical drama character.

“Wae… WAE?? Why is my life like thissssssss??” I cry to no one, arms dramatically flopping over the table like I’ve just lost a kingdom.

And then...DING.

My whole body freezes.

Slowly… slowly… I lift the phone.

One message.

‘oddie?’

…

“WOAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

I jump out of my chair like I just got electrocuted by love.Papers fly. My jacket falls. My knee hits the corner of the table. I don’t feel pain.

I’m possessed.

“OH MY GOD SHE REPLIED! SHE REPLIEEEEED!!!”

I spin in a full circle like I’m about to transform into Sailor Moon.

“WHAT DO I SAY BACK?! HOW DO I SOUND CASUAL BUT HOT?!”

“Same restaurant? Now.”I send the message with trembling fingers. Then I immediately start biting my nails like I’m trying to erase my fingerprints.

DING.

“Nee.”

OH MY GOD.

I bolt up from my chair like I just got drafted into a drama. My jacket’s on backwards, I’m talking to myself.

“Okay okay okay, breathe, Kwon Jiyong. You’re a grown man. You’ve walked red carpets. You’ve been shirtless on stage in front of millions. You can do this.”

I stop in front of the mirror before heading out.Stare at my reflection.

“Damn it… what am I doing.”

I fix my hair. Change my shirt. Spray cologne. Then change the shirt again because maybe I sprayed too much.

I rush into the car like I’m escaping from a crime scene.

---

At the restaurant.

She’s already there.

But this time, instead of her usual spot by the window...We’re in a private room.

Soft lighting. No distractions. Just us.

The staff bows and hands us the menu.

I slide into the seat beside her, not across.

“Give me this… and this,” I say quickly, pointing at two dishes I didn’t even read properly.

She glances at the menu once and says softly,

“I’ll have the same.”

I turn to look at her, heart in my throat.

She glances at me. Just briefly.But enough.Damn.

She’s so beautiful it’s actually dangerous to my health.

“So… do you already have the ambassador?” I ask, carefully casual, swirling my water like it’s a cocktail of composure.

She doesn’t look up immediately, her eyes still on her food.

“Not yet,” she says. “The artist we contacted couldn’t make it. His schedule’s fully booked.”

She says it like she’s discussing weather. Calm. Graceful.Meanwhile, I’m screaming internally.

Please say my name. Please ask me. Please, just...I clear my throat.

“Another, then?”

She finally looks up, right at me.Her gaze is direct, curious, a little amused.

“Like you?” she asks.

My heart flatlines.

YES.SAY IT. SAY IT LOUDER.

“I mean… can I?” I say, trying to sound chill while mentally disintegrating into glitter.

She chuckles, again with that soft, elegant sound that feels both distant and personal.

“You probably have a tight schedule too,” she says, lifting her cup delicately.

No. I don’t. I’ll cancel the whole world tour for you.

I grip my chopsticks with fake serenity.

“I can fit it… if you want.”

Silence.

She stops. Looks at me again.This time, it’s a real look, like she’s weighing something. Measuring.

Time slows.

Damn it. What is she thinking?

Finally, she nods slowly and sets her tea down.

“I’ll send you the contract, then,” she says.

Then, she smiles.

Not the polite one.Not the unreadable one.But a relaxed, slightly relieved smile.

Like I just took a problem off her shoulders.

Like… I’m finally in.

--

Mi Yu's POV

Contract Signing Day.

“Thank you, Kwon Ji Yong-ssi. It’s such an honor for us to have you as our ambassador. We hope we can work together for a long time,” I say, voice steady, professional.

We’re in the conference room. The formalities are done. My team watches closely as we shake hands, flashes of phones silently capturing the moment for internal documentation, maybe for later PR if the world’s ready for it.

Jiyong smiles politely. Not too wide. Just enough.

That same smile he gave me when I finally replied “Nee.”

That smile that’s hard to read, but even harder to ignore.

“I’ll give you updates as soon as our media team finishes the draft,” I add, slipping into my usual rhythm. The planning. The precision. The control.

He bows, graceful and smooth as always.I bow back, then step aside.

He leaves the room, and I hear it immediately, suppressed squeals from the staff outside, like a kettle about to boil over.

One girl grips the edge of the front desk like it’s a lifeboat.

The elevator doors open.

Jiyong walks through the hallway like it’s his personal runway, slow, unfazed, head slightly tilted down, sunglasses on indoors.

Of course.My office is now a fashion show.

He doesn’t look back. But somehow, it still feels like the entire building is rotating around him.

I exhale softly. Straighten the signed contract in my hand.

It’s official.And maybe… maybe I just made the most dangerous decision of my career.

I did it.

I finally trap him.