Sohee worked at a coffee shop, not just any barista, but the clumsy, overly enthusiastic one who spilled just as many drinks as he served. He was quirky in the most endearing way, always bouncing around like he was fueled by espresso shots and pure sunshine. He was that clueless and innocent boy.

He called himself a strong, fierce, majestic, untamed. But everyone who worked with him knew the truth: he was more of a cutie. A very energetic, slightly chaotic, adorable cutie pie with a secretly sculpted, lean body that had no business being attached to such a baby face.

You were a scriptwriter and creative director in the K-pop industry, with a reputation for genius ideas, killer instincts, and a wallet that matched your vision. People bowed when you walked into rooms, not just out of politeness, but because they knew you had power, connections, and the ability to make or break careers with a single note.

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You were trying out a new café that afternoon, a low-key spot your assistant had recommended for the “cozy aesthetic and dangerously good caffeine.” The bell over the door jingled as you stepped in.

Most of the baristas looked up and bowed the moment they recognized you. That polite, automatic kind of bow.

All except one.

Sohee stood behind the counter with a goofy, slightly crooked smile on his face, eyes lighting up like he had no idea who you were, or maybe just didn’t care. He waved with the hand that was still holding a milk frother, which was very clearly still on.

The lead barista didn’t hesitate, just smacked him lightly on the back of the head with a dish towel.

“Bow, you stupid..” he muttered under his breath.

Sohee flinched, gasped and snapped into a quick, dramatic bow, nearly knocking over a tray of mugs behind.