❥ || chapter one

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If you asked me how I ended up here, which is a stupid question because no one should end up here, I'd probably blame finals week. Or maybe the fact that I have the self control of a damp sponge when it comes to two things, instant ramen and late night K-dramas.

It was supposed to be one episode. One comforting hit of nostalgia to keep my brain from melting out of my ears after twelve straight hours of reviewing enzyme pathways and failing to remember which one breaks down glucose and which one breaks down my will to live.

But you know how it goes. Just one more, I'd said at 10 PM. Then just one more at midnight. By 1 AM, I was curled under my weighted blanket, laptop perched on my stomach like a warm, judgmental cat, telling myself it was background noise while I highlighted my notes.

Of course, the highlighters ended up uncapped, rolling onto the floor. The notes became a makeshift coaster for my cup noodles. And I became a half conscious zombie watching Fated Hearts for the seventh time.

There's something dangerous about your favourite comfort show when you're so exhausted your brain can't tell fiction from reality. Every line feels personal. Every character feels real. And in my case, they were real, sort of, because they'd become my only real escape.

I knew Fated Hearts by heart. The tragic heroine, the cold CEO with a hidden heart of gold, the loyal second lead doomed to die a beautiful, heartbreaking death that made me sob into my cheap pillow every single time. I used to yell at my laptop, "I'd fix this story if I could!" like that would change a damn thing.

Turns out, the universe has a sense of humour.

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The moment it started to unravel, the moment my unraveling began, was the first episode's opening scene. The one I'd replayed so many times I could practically quote it in my sleep. Which, ironically, is exactly what I did.

In the show, Kim Eunseo, not me, the other Kim Eunseo, the perfect sweet cinnamon roll version who just happened to share my name, rushes down the marble steps of the fancy Seoul hotel, arms full of paperwork, and crashes straight into Lee Heeseung. The infuriatingly gorgeous chaebol heir, master of steely glares and soft confessions no normal man would ever say out loud. Their eyes meet. Coffee spills. He wipes it off with a resigned sigh but secretly starts falling in love at that exact moment.

It's iconic. The blueprint for K-drama meet cutes everywhere.

I should've turned it off. I should've known I was too tired to make good choices. But instead, I curled deeper under my blanket, the cup noodles forgotten on my nightstand, my eyes blinking slow and heavy as the scene flickered on my screen for the thousandth time.

I remember mumbling the lines with her: "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going-"

Heeseung's perfect cold eyes met hers. The soundtrack swelled, soft piano that made my eyelids feel heavier and heavier.

"If you're going to cry," Heeseung said, voice low and cruel and addictive, "cry where I can't see you."

I snorted. I always did at that line. So dramatic. So deliciously fake. I'd kill for my life to be that interesting. For someone to say something so stupidly romantic to me.

"Lucky girl," I whispered, half to my laptop, half to my empty room.

And then I closed my eyes.

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It's hard to explain what falling asleep inside a story feels like. Or maybe I didn't fall asleep at all. Maybe I fell through.

One second, it was my dark dorm room. The hum of my laptop. The faint ramen smell I'd never admit made me weirdly comforted. The pile of flashcards under my thigh. The next, there was warmth. Brightness. Voices. A smell that wasn't stale noodles but something floral, expensive, almost suffocating.

I tried to open my eyes, but they felt glued shut. My head lolled forward. My shoulder bumped against something... someone?

And then I heard it. The line that should've been on my laptop's tinny speakers.

"Miss Kim? Are you alright?"

I cracked one eye open. Blinding light. A huge chandelier above me, glittering like something out of a department store holiday ad. Cold marble under my shoes- wait, shoes? I was wearing fuzzy socks. I was not wearing pointy kitten heels that pinched my toes.

I forced my other eye open. There were people staring at me, people in neat suits, polished shoes, not a single ramen stain among them. A concierge desk to my right. A towering glass wall reflecting the lobby behind me.

And in front of me, a man. Dark suit. Crisp white shirt. Hair so perfectly styled it looked illegal. And a stare so cold I swear it dropped the temperature by ten degrees.

Lee Heeseung.

Standing less than three feet away from me. Real. Solid. Real.

"Miss Kim?" he said again, his brow furrowing in annoyance, or confusion, or both. His voice wasn't coming from my laptop anymore. It was coming from him. It was coming from right in front of me.

My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. I could feel my brain leaking out through my ears.

This isn't real. I'm dreaming. This is a stress induced hallucination. Too much caffeine. Too little sleep. Too much ramen. Definitely the ramen.

He stared at me like he was waiting for me to speak. I could see the scene playing out in my head: the coffee spill, the scripted apology, the way she looks up at him through long, fluttery lashes and accidentally steals his cold heart in one perfect instant.

Except I didn't have coffee. Or paperwork. Or fluttery lashes. I probably had noodle crumbs stuck to my hoodie, wait, I wasn't even wearing my hoodie. I glanced down.

I was wearing the pale pink blouse from the show's opening scene. The one I always thought looked so sweet and delicate and totally not me. My knees wobbled. The world tilted.

"Miss Kim-" Heeseung reached out, not because he cared, obviously. Because this is the moment where he's supposed to catch me. Or maybe push me away. Or maybe both.

But this wasn't supposed to happen to me. I'm not her.

I stumbled back a step, heels catching on the marble floor. My shoulder bag that definitely wasn't my backpack slipped down my arm. A rush of cold air hit me when the lobby doors opened behind me.

I saw a flicker of movement in the glass wall. For a second, I thought I'd see her, perfect Kim Eunseo, doe eyes brimming with tears, hair curled into soft waves that never frizzed.

But the girl staring back at me? She had my face. My hair, flat on one side from sleeping on it weird. My wide, panic blown eyes. My mouth hanging half open like a goldfish.

Me. Kim Eunseo. Inside Fated Hearts.

"Nope," I said, because that's what you say when the world stops making sense.

Heeseung's eyes narrowed. He took a step closer.

"Miss Kim, if you're going to-"

I didn't wait for him to finish. My vision went fuzzy at the edges, like static on a broken TV. The marble floor came up to meet me far too fast.

I had just enough brain cells left to think: Wow. I really am the worst heroine ever.

And then everything went black.

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