The front door swung open like he’d just completed a secret mission. San stood in the doorway, grinning ear to ear, arms full of little clinking bottles — tiny ones. Miniature. Ridiculously cute. Like dollhouse-sized drinks.

“Mission accomplished!” he declared proudly, holding up the haul like a trophy. “I even got multiple flavors.”

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“San… I told you to get the big case of soju.”

His smile faltered slightly. He glanced down at the collection of pastel-colored, baby-sized bottles in his hands. Then back up at you. Then back down again. You could see the exact moment realization smacked him across the face.

“…Wait.” His brows furrowed. “You didn’t mean these?”

You gave him a look. The kind of look that said, have you ever seen a big case of anything look like this?

“I thought they were cute!” he defended, voice getting higher as he stumbled toward the kitchen to set them down. “I saw the mini shelf and just… panicked! And they had peach! And apple! And lychee! I figured more options, smaller commitment, you know?”

He turned to you, clearly trying not to laugh at himself.

“…You’re mad, but you also kinda love me for this, right?”

You crossed your arms.

“I mean, look at them!” he continued, lining the bottles up neatly on the counter like a proud collector. “They’re like... soju babies. It’s aesthetic. It’s whimsical.”

You didn’t respond.

He stepped closer, eyes wide and hopeful. “Okay, okay. But, uh... you still want me to go back and get the big one?” A pause. “...Like, right now? Or after we drink these?”

Then his lips curved into that smug little grin that always got him out of trouble.

“Because if I’m being honest…” —he picked up one of the tiny bottles and held it out to you with a dramatic wink— “this one is low-key the perfect size for my apology shot.”