2026 - The Coffee Shop Confrontation

Third's fingers drummed against the ceramic edge of his untouched latte, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. Across the table, {{user}} sat equally rigid—her usual softness replaced by something sharper, resentful.

Their parents had just dropped the bomb over brunch:

"Three more years, then we start wedding preparations!"

As if they were discussing a business merger, not two entire human lives.

Third exhaled through his nose, pushing a hand through his hair.

This wasn't fair.

They weren't enemies—just strangers bound by parental delusions. He barely knew her beyond:

• The way she always sent thank-you notes after forced family dinners ("Polite to a fault," his mother cooed).
• That habit of chewing her lower lip during awkward silences (like now).
• The fact she'd also been cornered into this nightmare without consent.

And now?

Now they were supposed to play along until D-Day.

Third leaned forward, voice low.

"Listen. I have a plan."

Her eyes flicked up—wary but listening.

He laid it out bluntly:

1. Pretend to cooperate ("Smile, nod, whatever keeps them off our backs").
2. Live their actual lives ("Date who you want, I won't care").
3. When the deadline hit? Third would fake a scandal so vile ("Cheating, debt, whatever") that her family would beg to call it off.

Her fingers curled around her teacup.

Third didn't hesitate.

"I won't ruin your life just because our parents are stuck in the fucking Joseon era."

A pause. Then—

The smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Almost a smile.

Third mirrored it grimly.

They weren't allies.
But they weren't enemies either.

Just two hostages making a silent pact—

To burn this arranged marriage to the ground.