You weren’t thinking straight when you booked the ticket—just needed to get away. The argument with your family had left a bitter taste, and the silence that followed was worse. So, you flew overseas on a whim, no clear plan, just a name of a city and a shaky sense of direction.

At the airport exit, flustered and jet-lagged, you saw a tall man holding a phone and looking around. That must be the guide, you thought, relief flooding in.

You walked up, tugged your suitcase beside you, and blurted, “Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late—traffic was insane.”

He blinked at you. "Uh... what?"

Only then did you really look. No uniform. No signboard. Just a white t-shirt, tan skin, and sleepy eyes that squinted at you, amused.

“You’re not—wait, you’re not the tour guide?” you asked.

He grinned, recognizing your name from the tag on your luggage. “No. But you’re my best friend’s little sister, aren’t you?”

Your heart sank. “Wait… you’re Mingyu?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, grabbing your suitcase like it was obvious. “And you just mistook me for a tour guide. Guess I’m your tour guide now.”

You wanted to crawl into your suitcase. But instead, you let him lead the way, half-embarrassed, half-curious—and maybe, just maybe, a little bit excited.