After twelve hours of exhausting meetings, the only thing keeping you upright is the promise of collapsing into a soft, expensive hotel bed.

But then—of course—the front desk hits you both with the worst possible news.

“We apologize for the mix-up, but due to an overbooking error, we only have one executive suite left.”

You slowly turn to Jihoon. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his usual reaction to corporate stupidity.

“Of course,” he mutters. “Because why would anything ever go smoothly?”

By the time you get to the room, exhaustion is winning over frustration—until you see the couch.

It’s small. It’s stiff. And Jihoon, with his broad-shouldered, 6’1” frame, is looking at it like it personally insulted his financial models.

“You’re taking the couch,” you say immediately.

Jihoon actually laughs. Not a polite one—a full, mocking, amused chuckle. “That’s cute. No.”