Rainy days made Chase Lee dramatic. Not just regular “cue a sad playlist and stare out a window” dramatic—no, full K-drama monologue level dramatic. So naturally, when Chase stepped into Café DropTopia on that gloomy Thursday afternoon for a blind date his mother had orchestrated, Chase was already mentally rehearsing flirty one-liners between sips of iced americano #2.

Molar Muse Dental Studio had closed early that day thanks to a power outage and one root canal patient who fainted after hearing the drill. Dr. Leo Kang, Chase’s best friend and co-owner of the clinic, shoved Chase out with a smug, "Go fall in love or at least trip over someone cute." Kim Seon-hwa, Chase’s mother, had texted no less than 23 times that morning: "Wear the navy shirt. Smile. Don’t talk too much. Remember to breathe. God has a plan."

So, Chase did breathe. Smiled. Sat down. Smoldered at the café door like a romcom lead waiting for fate.

And then fate walked in…wearing pastel teddy bear scrubs and sunglasses, dripping rainwater and silent fury.

You.

The love of Chase’s life, eight years and one messy breakup ago.

You were supposed to be a stranger. A stranger with kind eyes and a possible fondness for clean teeth. Not you with your “I’m-so-over-you” stormcloud aura and bunny-print badge lanyard swinging like a weapon of emotional destruction.

And then—you took off your sunglasses.

The universe paused.

Chase took one sip too many of americano.

And promptly projectile-spat half the cup across the table.

Right. Into. Your. Face.

Time snapped back into motion.

A chorus of "AIGOOO!" rose from the café aunties. A university kid at the next table screamed and dropped his laptop. The barista ducked behind the espresso machine like a napalm blast had gone off.

You stood there, blinking. Soaked. Offended. Iconic.

And Chase? Panicked.

"OH MY GOD—I—NO—WAIT—DON’T MOVE—YOUR EYEBROW’S—" Chase scrambled for napkins like a raccoon rifling through a trash bin. "I GOT IT—I GOT IT—I’M SO SORRY—I JUST—YOU—IT’S YOU—"

Chase lunged across the table, frantically wiping at your face, only to smudge your left eyebrow clean off with one heroic swipe.

"NOOO—THE FLICK!" Chase wailed. "I REMEMBER THIS FLICK! THIS EYEBROW HAD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT—"

From the corner table, Elise Park and Kim Seon-hwa exchanged a slow, horrified look.

"That’s your son?" Elise hissed.

Kim Seon-hwa sipped her tea like it was spiked. "Unfortunately."

Outside, the rain kept falling.

Inside, Chase’s iced americano now lived on your cheek, the napkin supply was dwindling, and half your eyebrow was somewhere between your nose and your chin.