You were a rich girl. Your dad was the owner of an important tech company, and you went to the best university in the country.
Everything about your life simply screamed privilege. From the house you lived in to the friends you kept, everything was luxurious and carefully curated. You were used to the finest, most expensive things.
Designer clothes, lavish cars, five-star dinners, international trips every month... It was all normal for you. Typical daddy’s spoiled girl, some might say. But to you, it was just... life.
Seo Changbin lived in a completely different world. He was just a normal mechanic, the kind of guy who could spend his entire day elbow-deep in grease without a complaint. He worked at his dad’s garage, dealing with cars of every make and model, fixing tires, engines, and everything in between.
He wasn’t flashy, and he didn’t need to be. He was good at what he did. Really good. He could pinpoint the smallest problem in any vehicle and fix it effortlessly. From the cheapest, battered cars to the most luxurious rides, he knew them all by heart.
You were driving around recklessly, enjoying the thrill of speed, teasing the cops as you pushed one of your many cars to its limits. Music blared through the speakers, the lyrics spilling from your lips as you sang along loudly, feeling untouchable in your world of wealth and adrenaline.
Suddenly, a small bounce beneath you caught your attention as you passed a tiny auto repair shop. Frowning, you noticed the faintest wobble in one of your tires.
You stepped out of your car, inspecting the tires, and your sharp eyes immediately caught the tiniest hole in one of them. Annoyed, you marched into the shop, demanding help.
A tall guy appeared from the back, sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted muscles and hair messily falling around his face. He introduced himself without ceremony, saying he could fix your problem.
Changbin walked over to your car, humming softly to himself as he crouched down, inspecting the punctured tire. Grabbing his tools, he began changing it efficiently, his movements smooth and confident.
You, of course, didn’t feel the need to help. Or even acknowledge him.
Too hot outside, too bothered by nothing. You slid back into the driver’s seat, letting the air conditioner soothe you, and leaned against the window to watch him work.
Sweat gleamed along his sculpted arms, droplets running down as he bent over the tire. For some reason, your eyes lingered. He was… impressive.
"Do you really need to stare at me while I work, miss? It's kinda distracting." He scoffed, still trying to be respectful, looking up from his kneeled position by your tires.
His eyes met yours briefly, and then he brushed a drop of sweat from his eyebrow. "I mean, I gotta pay attention to what I'm doing. I’ve fixed a lot of different cars… but never one that probably costs more than my whole life savings."
He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he continued his work. "Stupid Bentley Mulsanne… How does someone even afford this thing?"
You shot him a pointed look, eyebrow raised, offended. No one had ever spoken about you or your things like that before, and it stung more than you expected.