"Zoya, are you coming today?"
Minji asked while eating breakfast with everyone else.
Zoya was just about to leave for the restaurant. She paused, thinking for a second.
"Minji… if I get free, I'll message you. Then you tell me, and I'll come."
"Okay," Minji replied with a soft smile.
Zoya nodded and left.
________________
"Zoya, today there's a huge order. Home delivery too. It's going to be crazy. Forget about resting — Mrs. Lee won't let us breathe."
Minho leaned closer to her ear and said it slightly louder than necessary, teasing.
Mrs. Lee heard.
She slowly turned her head and glared at him.
"If you work as much as you talk, that would be very helpful."
Minho looks innocent.
Zoya burst into laughter, looking at both of them.
"Mrs. Lee, please tell me. Should I start the cutting?" Zoya asked immediately, returning to work mode.
Mrs. Lee and Park Joon went back to their stations. The order had to be prepared on time. Outside, the restaurant was already packed. Because of the festival, even the junior chefs had been called in to assist. Everyone was moving fast, making sure everything stayed balanced.
Zoya and Minho worked together, assisting wherever needed.
The kitchen sounded alive.
Knives hitting chopping boards.
Oil sizzling.
Plates stacking.
Voices overlapping.
Someone is shouting for sauce.
Someone is lifting trays.
Someone rushing past with hot pans.
The kitchen looked like a festival.
And Zoya loved it.
This was the kind of job she wanted. Even if it was temporary. At least she got the chance to do something she truly enjoyed.
For three straight hours, she and Minho chopped vegetables continuously. Minho eventually left the kitchen earlier. Zoya finished whatever was left, cleaned her station properly, informed Mrs. Lee that the prep work was done, and stepped out.
Now it was the chefs' part.
She walked toward the dining area for a short break.
It was packed.
Every table was full.
The upper floor was full.
There wasn't a single empty seat.
After that long stretch of work, she and Minho stepped outside to get some air.
______________
"Zoya! Zoya, listen!"
Minho called out.
She was walking slightly closer to the Han River view area when she heard him. He was sitting on the seating bench near the riverbank.
She walked over and sat beside him, leaving a little distance between them.
The wind coming from the Han River was cool and refreshing. It carried a soft, clean scent of water.
"I told you today rest would be impossible," Minho said while sipping his coffee, glancing at her.
Then he suddenly stood up.
"One minute."
Zoya turned to watch him as he walked toward a small coffee stall nearby. He spoke to the vendor and returned with another cup.
He held it out to her.
Zoya looked at it and was about to refuse.
"I drink dark coffee," Minho said casually. "But Ji-ho usually drinks this one. So I brought the same. You don't like bitter coffee."
Zoya paused.
If Ji-ho drinks it… Then it must be fine.
She accepted it.
They sat quietly for a few moments, both looking at the water.
"In a few days… the whole world will be lively like this," Zoya said softly, watching the ripples in the river.
Minho turned toward her.
"Why? What do you mean — in a few days?"
She looked back at him and smiled gently.
Ramadan is coming. When it arrives, it fills the entire world with a different kind of liveliness."
Minho nodded slowly.
"Yes… Ramadan here is very lively too. Ji-ho does special decorations for it. Mr. and Mrs. Donghyun come specially during Ramadan. A separate Ramadan menu is decided."
Zoya listened carefully.
"For that entire month, the restaurant stays closed from 5 in the morning until 5 in the evening. Staff still arrive on time, but dining works through online booking. At exactly 5 PM, booking holders start arriving for iftar and dinner."
He continued.
"And dining doesn't happen only inside. We place tables outside too — near the Han River. Extra chefs are hired. By 5 PM, everything is ready — dining area set, food ready. Families start arriving and sit at their reserved tables."
Zoya was completely absorbed in his words.
"First, they're served a very light meal for iftar(The evening meal with which Muslims break their fast at sunset during Ramadan) — water, dates, bread, yogurt. Just that. After that, everyone here prays together. Sometimes Ji-ho leads the prayer. Sometimes someone else does."
He smiled faintly.
"Then the dinner buffet is opened. And you know something? That light iftar meal before dinner — it's completely free. And the per-head price for dinner is much lower than on normal days."
He looked proud now.
"In Seoul, White Bowl Kitchen's Ramadan routine is famous. Because of that, people say, 'White Bowl's special month has arrived.' Even the walking area outside gets decorated."
Zoya looked back at the water, her expression softening.
"I want to see that too… It's my first Ramadan here. Let's see how it goes."
There was a slight sadness in her voice.
Then she stood up.
"We should go back. There's still too much work."
They walked back inside, continuing to talk lightly.
_______________
A car stopped in the garage.
"See who it is," Jinhun said to Minjo.
Minjo replied lazily, without even looking properly.
"If someone crossed the gate and came inside, obviously, they belong here. They'll appear in front of us."
Jinhun glared at him.
"You've become extremely lazy since you arrived."
"HELLO EVERYONE!"
Minji's loud voice echoed.
Minjo instantly sat up straight.
"I told Jinhun it would be Minji, but he wouldn't believe me. He said maybe a stranger came in."
Jinhun glared again.
Jeon.J stepped out of his room, freshly showered.
Sophia, Hana, and Ruhi greeted everyone and began looking around the house.
Ruhi looked completely overwhelmed.
"Jeon.J, I think I should get a happiness attack! In these past few days, things happened that I never even imagined in my dreams! I met people at TBS who stand in long lines to see. I went to the TBS studio. I had dinner there. I walked around with them. And now I'm standing in Jeon.J's house! Someone pinch me — I must be dreaming!"
"Same. I can't believe it either," Hana said.
"Same," Sophia added.
"Aaaahhh!"
Ruhi suddenly screamed.
Everyone turned.
She was rubbing her arm. Teahun had pinched her hard.
"Who pinches like that?!"
"I do," Teahun said calmly, raising his eyebrows and winking.
Then he asked,
"By the way… where's your fifth piece?"
He meant Zoya.
"She said she'll message when she's free. Hopefully she'll come," Minji replied while placing the marinated chicken bowl on the table.
Jeon.J glanced at Minji.
Then looked at Jinhun.
Jinhun understood immediately.
"When Zoya gets free, tell her to stay at the restaurant. Jea can pick her up. Coming alone to Jeon.J's house… You know how rumors work."
"But Jea left," Jeon.J said calmly. "It's a festival. I let him go."
Minji's lips formed a small circle.
"Oh… I didn't even think about that. I already sent her the location."
Jinhun reacted quickly.
"Call her. Tell her to stay there. I'll pick her up."
"No, I can pick her," Minji said — but then pulled the phone away from her ear. "She's not answering. She said she'll text before leaving. I'll call her then."
Teahun leaned toward the bowl.
"What did you bring?"
"Smell it first."
He leaned closer and smelled it.
"Smells good."
"It's a special spring chicken from my home. We make it especially in spring. I marinated it last night. We'll grill it on the flame and eat. Then tell me how it tastes."
She placed it inside the kitchen fridge.
"Where are the others?" Sophia asked.
"Yomin and Hosu are on the way," Minjo replied just as the door opened.
"Kim Joon is here."
Kim Joon entered.
Suddenly, Jeon.J's phone rang.
Everyone became attentive.
"Yes, Jea."
"Jeon.J, the restaurant called. You gave them my number. They're asking about pickup."
"Send them the location. They can home-deliver," Jeon.J replied and ended the call.
"Food's coming."
"Where are Yomin and Hosu?"
"They're almost here."
Kim Joon placed his phone aside.
"Our song broke records in one day. People are loving it. I read some comments — our English RAMY is especially happy. A full English song released in spring — they're very excited."
"That's good news," Jinhun said to Jeon.J "Write more English versions. Well done."
Jeon.J smiled slightly, took a slow breath, then looked at Minji.
"Let's prepare the dinner table. We'll have a built-in tabletop grill at the center of the table." Keep grilling the chicken you brought. We'll eat while filming."
Just then —
"Hello!"
Hosu and Yomin entered.
Jeon.J thought
Everyone was now here.
Waiting.
For dinner.
For laughter.
For the night to unfold.
And somewhere else…
Zoya was still at the restaurant.
Unaware of the quiet tension building around her name.
______________
"Minho, place this order."
Ji-ho entered the kitchen while saying it.
Only now, after hours of chaos, had he finally appeared.
The kitchen was still loud — knives chopping, oil crackling, junior chefs rushing past — but the moment Ji-ho walked in, there was a subtle shift in energy. Not fear. Not pressure.
Control.
He had just found out that the order they had carefully prepared and packed… was for Jeon.J's house
That was exactly why he called Minho.
Ji-ho didn't want any mistakes.
Not even a small one.
Minho might be playful, loud, always teasing — but when it came to work, he was serious. Extremely serious.
Two years ago, he had come here for one reason only — to complete a silly challenge his girlfriend had dared him to take on.
That's how it started.
Minho won the challenge.
But somewhere along the way… he lost the girl.
Now she walks into White Bowl Kitchen like she owns the place — dressed perfectly, laughing a little too loudly — her new boyfriend's hand resting possessively at her waist. She doesn't miss the chance to glance at Minho. Sometimes she even lingers near the counter, placing her order sweetly, deliberately.
"Extra sweet latte," she says, eyes flicking toward him.
Minho only smiles.
But Minho isn't the type to lose quietly.
If she orders something sweet, he makes it bitter.
If she asks for mild, he makes it spicy.
Perfectly plated. Beautifully presented. Opposite.
He serves it with the most professional expression — eyes calm, voice steady.
"Your order."
And when she tastes it, her expression shifts — confusion, annoyance, embarrassment — especially when her new boyfriend tries to act unbothered.
Minho watches. Just slightly amused.
Later, in the back kitchen, surrounded by clattering pans and the scent of garlic and butter, he reenacts her reaction for the staff. Mimicking her tone. Her dramatic sigh. The way she forced a smile.
The staff bursts into laughter.
"Hyung, you're evil," one of them says.
Minho just shrugs, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Not evil," he replies coolly. "Creative."
Because maybe the challenge wasn't the only thing he lost.
But if she thinks she can walk into his kitchen and unsettle him—
She clearly forgot.
This is his territory now.
Ji-ho had never let him go.
Minho came daily after his studies. He was doing his MBA, yet most of his time was spent inside this restaurant — between vegetables, flames, and orders.
One day, Minho had laughed and told him,
"Appa keeps saying — Minho, you're doing an MBA, but you spend your time in a restaurant. We don't understand what you're mixing. MBA and restaurant are two different paths. Even if those paths meet somewhere… But an MBA doesn't match your vegetable skills.
Both were smiling.
____________
The kitchen was still warm from the evening rush.
Steam floated lazily in the air. Stainless steel counters reflected the yellow lights above. Ji_ho and Minho were discussing the last pending order near the prep table.
Zoya stood a little distance away, holding her phone tightly in her hand.
She was waiting.
Waiting for their conversation to finish so she could finally speak.
Ji-ho was explaining something about the delivery timing, and Minho was pretending to listen seriously, though his expressions clearly said he was bored.
Zoya shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Finally, Minho turned slightly, and Ji-ho stepped aside.
That was her moment.
She walked closer.
"Ji-ho… my work is almost done," she began softly. "Actually, my friends invited me to dinner tonight. If I don't go, they'll be very upset. If you allow me… can I leave?"
Ji-ho looked at her, then at Minho.
Before Ji-ho could respond, Minho dramatically placed a hand on the counter and let out a loud sigh.
"Oh wow," he said. "So everyone gets dinner invitations except me."
Zoya rolled her eyes slightly.
Ji-ho smiled faintly. "If your work is finished, you can go."
Relief washed over Zoya's face.
"Thank you," zoya said.
But Minho wasn't done.
"Yes, yes, let her go," he muttered sarcastically. "There's only one Minho in this entire refrigerator of a kitchen. Make him do everything. Deliver food. Listen to Mrs. Lee. Listen to Mr. Park Joon. Check on Ji-ho. Sometimes even become a waiter." He paused dramatically. "And the worst torture of all… especially that girl," Minho continued, leaning back. "The one who comes every single day with her new boyfriend just to irritate me."
Ji-ho shook his head. "If you stop noticing her, it won't feel like torture."
Zoya gave Minho a sympathetic look. "Fine. Don't look at her. But what about the rest of your suffering?"
Minho clutched his chest."Exactly! I even thought today I'd step out early, enjoy Easter, maybe have dinner like a normal human being. But no—there's a special order to place."
Ji-ho handed him a folded paper.
"You're placing this," Ji-ho said calmly.
Minho narrowed his eyes. "See? Cruelty."
Zoya hesitated. "If you want, I can place it."
"Aaaah, no," Ji_ho replied immediately. "he'll handle it."
"If Zoya can handle it, let her," Minho added deliberately.
"Minho…" Ji-Ho emphasized.
"Okay, okay!" Minho raised his hands. "I'm going."
Ji-ho handed him the address slip. "When you reach the street entrance, call this number. Someone will collect it."
Then he looked at Zoya. "You're leaving too, right? Go with him. He can drop you."
"Oh, I can go myself—"
"No," Ji-ho interrupted gently. "Go with him. At least one sensible person should be present."
Minho turned instantly."Who did he call sensible?"
But Ji-ho was already walking out of the kitchen.
Zoya adjusted her bag over her shoulder."Ji-ho knows very well who is sensible. Now hurry. Order placement time is 8 pm. It's already 9 pm."
"They themselves said come late," Minho replied as they stepped outside.
Both were coming near the car.
The food trays were already placed carefully on the back seat.
Minho started the engine and glanced back."This looks like food for twelve or thirteen people. Ji-ho was worried like we were late to someone's wedding."
He unfolded the paper while steering casually.
Then his expression changed.
"Ohooooo."
"What?" Zoya asked.
He handed her the paper.
It was written in Korean. She only recognized numbers.
"What does it write?"
Minho blinked. "You don't know Korean?"
She gave him a flat look. "No."
"Oh… right." He cleared his throat. "It's Jeon.J's order. We're delivering it to his house. But we won't go inside. We'll wait at the entrance. The guard will come."
Zoya froze for half a second.
Jeon.J.?
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
When Minho stopped near the private street entrance and stepped out to call the number, Zoya quickly pulled out her phone and checked the address Minji had sent her earlier.
Same street.
Same number.
Her heart skipped.
A guard approached. Minho greeted him politely, smiling as he handed over the trays.
Zoya watched silently.
When Minho sat back in the car, she quickly stepped out.
"I'll go from here."
"I'll drop you," Minho said.
"No. You'll be late. Ji-ho will scold you."
The street was glowing with festival lights. People walking. Soft music in the distance.
"My friend's address is here too," she said carefully. "I'll walk."
Minho looked at her seriously."You said you don't know Korean. That's why I'm worried."
"I'll manage."
He hesitated… then nodded.
"Okay. Bye."
The car disappeared down the street.
Zoya stood still.
Took a deep breath.
Why does fate keep bringing me back here?
She walked further inside.
House number 95.
The wall was tall, smooth, seamless.
No visible gate.
She ran her fingers across it slowly, searching for a hidden entrance.
She called Minji.
No answer.
She called Ruhi. Sophia. Hana.
Nothing.
Her pulse quickened.
Then she noticed a small digital screen embedded in the wall. A metallic button beside it.
Doorbell.
She lifted her hand—
Suddenly—
A strong grip seized her arm.
She was yanked backward.
Her back slammed against the wall.
Before she could turn, her other arm was twisted behind her. Cold metal snapped around her wrists.
Click.
The sound echoed in her ears.
Her scarf slipped from her head to her neck.
Her hands were locked.
Her breathing turned uneven.
When she looked up—
Three uniformed police officers surrounded her.
One of them held her firmly against the wall.
The festival lights flickered in the distance.
But around her—
Everything felt cold.
And dangerously silent.
"뭐 하는 거예요?!" one of the officers barked. (What are you doing?!)
"여기 접근 금지 구역입니다!"(This is a restricted area!)
Her scarf slipped from her head to her neck when she was shoved back. Her hair — touch shoulder, dark brown, slightly tangled from the rush of the day — spilled over her shoulders and forward, covering her face.
"신분증 보여주세요!"(Show your ID!)
But she didn't look up.
Didn't argue.
Didn't scream.
Her head stayed lowered.
Her voice trembled softly.
"Please… let me adjust my scarf… just let me fix my scarf…"
The officers exchanged looks.
"사생팬 아니야?" one muttered.(Isn't she a sasaeng fan?)
"수상해."(She's suspicious.)
A small crowd was beginning to gather at the end of the street. Festival lights flickered in the distance. Curious whispers filled the air.
Zoya's hair had completely fallen across her face now. Because she had rushed in the morning, she hadn't tied it properly. The scarf had been holding everything in place.
Now it hung loosely around her neck.
Her hands were locked behind her back.
She couldn't lift them.
She couldn't fix it.
She kept her head down.
"Please… my scarf… let me adjust it…"
One officer tightened his grip.
"고개 들어!"(Look up!)
But she couldn't.
Not like this.
Not with people staring.
Not with her hair exposed.
"체포합니다."(You're under arrest.)
The words felt distant in her ears.
Before the crowd could grow larger, before phones could start recording—
They pulled her forward.
She stumbled.
Her shoulder brushed against the police car door.
The metal felt freezing.
"I'm not—" she tried to speak, but her voice broke.
"Just… please… my scarf…"
No one responded.
The car door opened.
She was pushed inside.
Her hair fell forward again, hiding her face completely as she bent slightly, trying uselessly to press her scarf against her head with her shoulder.
The door slammed shut.
Outside, the festival lights kept glowing.
Music kept playing.
People kept walking.
And inside the police car—
Zoya sat with her wrists cuffed behind her back,
Head lowered,
Breathing unevenly,
Still whispering,
"Please… let me adjust my scarf…"
To be continued...
Regards
ZK