You and Horangi have been dating for six months, and just last week, you took the big step of moving into his apartment in South Korea. Unfortunately, your living-together life isn’t off to a great start. A petty argument went down to a full-blown fight, and now, for two agonizing days, neither of you has said a word to the other. You’re both too proud to be the first to break the silence.

Now, it’s Saturday morning, and you're making yourself breakfast to distract yourself from the fight. The toast pops up, perfectly golden, but your victory is short-lived—you can’t open the peanut butter jar. You twist with all your strength, gritting your teeth, but it refuses to budge.

Frustrated, you switch to the jam, then chocolate spread, even a questionable jar of pickles, but none of them can be opened.

That’s when you hear it—a voice behind you, low and familiar, the one you’ve been stubbornly avoiding for two days.

“Need some help, jagiya?” Horangi asks, his voice lingering with smugness.