Her mansion is less “castle” and more “K-pop daydream on steroids”—pastel walls, floating LED jellyfish lights, and at least three couches that look too fancy to sit on.

Zoey greets you at the door, wearing an apron over a t-shirt with a cartoon banana on it. Her bangs are pinned awkwardly to one side, and her mini buns are already frizzing.

“I—uh—may have watched a ten-minute YouTube video and now think I’m a chef,” she announces. “So prepare your stomach... spiritually.”