The girls took in their surroundings with wide eyes as they stepped further into the villa. Every corner of the house glowed with understated luxury. The open-plan living room flowed into a gleaming kitchen, and glass walls offered a panoramic view of the city skyline beyond.
"This is insane…" Da-eun murmured, her jaw dropping slightly. "If this is how actors live, I chose the wrong profession."
Before Ji-ah could respond, Hyun Min passed them quietly and disappeared into a hallway. Jun-ha followed him.
Inside Hyun Min's room, the actor rubbed his temples and muttered, "Let me know if they set anything on fire. I'm going to rest. Don't disturb me unless it's important. Also—" he paused, turning to Jun-ha, "—let them stay until Ji-soo's place becomes livable."
Jun-ha blinked. "You're okay with that?"
Hyun Min waved him off. "It's temporary."
Just then, Jun-ha's phone buzzed.
He stepped aside to answer. "Hello?"
It was the housekeeper. "Sir, I'm sorry… I won't be able to come in today. I'm not feeling well."
"Can you send someone else?"
"I'm afraid not. No one can cover today."
Jun-ha sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. What are we going to do for dinner?"
That's when Ji-ah, who had wandered into the kitchen, perked up.
"I can cook!" she offered brightly, stepping forward with a gleam in her eyes. "You guys are already doing so much for us—it's the least I can do."
Da-eun clapped her hands. "Yes! Finally, I get to eat Ji-ah's cooking! This is the highlight of my entire day."
Jun-ha and Hyun Min—who'd reappeared just in time to hear that—froze. The words hung in the air.
Ji-soo. Cooking?
Jun-ha looked from Ji-ah to Da-eun, then back again. "You can cook?"
Hyun Min, arms crossed, raised a skeptical brow but said nothing.
Da-eun threw a hand around Ji-ah's shoulder. "Don't underestimate her! This girl is a kitchen goddess. Seriously—what she makes is better than takeout, five-star stuff."
Ji-ah grinned, her energy bubbling. "Just leave it to me. I'll make something simple, but tasty."
The two men exchanged a look.
Jun-ha whispered to Hyun Min, "I once saw Ji-soo almost burn cereal."
Hyun Min muttered, "Let's hope this version came with better skills."
---
The kitchen came alive with movement as Ji-ah pulled her hair into a loose ponytail and rolled up her sleeves. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, catching the golden strands of her hair. She was practically glowing with energy.
Standing a few feet away, Kang Hyun Min stilled.
He hadn't meant to watch her—he was just walking by—but something about that small, effortless gesture… the way she twisted her hair, revealing the curve of her neck and the focus in her eyes…
His heart thudded once.
And again.
He frowned slightly. What the hell was that? He'd seen Ji-soo a thousand times—on sets, at parties, under flashing cameras. But never like this. Never so… real.
And why was she smiling like that?
As she moved around the kitchen—pulling open drawers, inspecting spices—there was a lightness to her, as if she truly belonged here. And suddenly, it wasn't Ji-soo he was seeing. It was someone else entirely.
Ji-ah starts cooking
"Da-eun, can you find me where the spices are kept?"
Da-eun bounced beside her like an eager sous-chef. "On it, Chef!"
Jun-ha leaned against the wall, watching the two with folded arms. "This should be interesting…"
"Careful," Hyun Min muttered behind him. "The last time she touched a stove, the fire alarm did the cooking."
Jun-ha smirked, but stayed near—just in case they needed to call emergency services.
In the kitchen, Ji-ah opened cabinets, examined the fridge contents, and began working like a pro. She chopped vegetables with smooth precision and tossed them into a pan like she'd done it for years.
Da-eun blinked. "Okay, you're kind of blowing my mind right now."
"Why?"
"You never cooked for me back home! I thought ramen was your love language."
Ji-ah giggled. "Yeah, but that was when I barely had time to breathe. Here… everything feels different. Like I can breathe and do things I never thought I could."
Da-eun paused, then smiled at her friend. "Well… I'm proud of you, dimension-diva."
As the aroma of sizzling garlic and herbs filled the space, Jun-ha wandered into the kitchen, clearly intrigued.
"Need help?" he asked Da-eun.
She turned to him with a raised brow. "You cook?"
"I can boil water," he deadpanned.
She rolled her eyes. "Impressive."
"I also know how to order takeout in five languages."
Ji-ah giggled again. "You two should have your own cooking show."
Da-eun made a dramatic bow. "Introducing: Clueless and Clumsy in the Kitchen!"
Jun-ha clapped slowly. "I'd watch that."
They exchanged a glance—charged with something unspoken—and looked away just as quickly.
Meanwhile, Hyun Min stood at a distance, arms crossed, silently watching Ji-ah work. There was something so unfamiliar… yet oddly warm about her now. She wasn't like the Ji-soo he knew—sharp-tongued and guarded. This one had a softness… and a scent of sincerity.
By the time the table was set, the villa smelled like a dre
Ji-ah caught him staring and tilted her head. "Everything okay?"
Hyun Min blinked, quickly looking away. "I was just… checking the fire extinguisher. Just in case."
From beside the fridge, Da-eun snorted. "Wow. That's a new way to flirt."
"I wasn't flirting," he snapped, ears slightly pink.
Jun-ha wandered in at that moment and muttered under his breath, "Then stop staring like she's made of sunshine and secrets."
Hyun Min glared at him.
Meanwhile, Ji-ah opened the fridge and pulled out vegetables like a woman on a mission. "I'll cook for everyone. It's the least I can do."
Da-eun practically jumped. "Finally! I get to eat Ji-ah's cooking! This day just keeps getting better."
Hyun Min raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "You're not about to burn the place down, right?"
Ji-ah smiled. "No promises."
Da-eun threw an arm around her. "Relax, gentlemen. You're about to taste food that might make you fall in love."
Jun-ha mumbled, "Too late."
Da-eun blinked. "What?"
"Nothing."
Jun-ha replied.
With spices now in her arsenal, Ji-ah got to work.
"Okay," she said, tying her hair tighter. "We're making something warm, filling, and fail-proof—Kimchi Bokkeumbap."
"Kimchi fried rice?" Da-eun's eyes sparkled. "Oof, I'm already hungry."
"Exactly," Ji-ah said. "Let's go."
Just then, Jun-ha peeked his head into the kitchen again. "Do you… need help?"
Da-eun turned around with a teasing smirk. "Are you volunteering as tribute?"
He sighed dramatically. "I'm offering to help set the table. Not peel garlic."
"Fair enough," Ji-ah smiled. "The plates are right above the sink."
As Jun-ha moved to set the table, Da-eun leaned closer to Ji-ah and whispered, "He's totally trying to impress you."
"What?" Ji-ah blinked, then made a face. "No way. He hasn't stopped teasing me since we met."
Da-eun grinned. "Exactly."
Over at the counter, Ji-ah began sautéing chopped onions and kimchi in a hot pan, the scent immediately filling the space with that nostalgic, tangy aroma.
Jun-ha returned, this time curious. "It smells… amazing."
"Just wait," Da-eun chimed in, helping Ji-ah add the rice. "She's magic with this dish. Back in our world, I basically blackmailed her into cooking for me once a week."
"World?" Jun-ha asked with a chuckle. "You two talk like you're from a fantasy novel."
Ji-ah and Da-eun exchanged a quick glance.
"Something like that," Ji-ah said lightly, tossing the rice with her spatula.
Da-eun handed her a fried egg from a second pan, placing it gently on top of the sizzling mound of kimchi rice.
"Boom," Da-eun announced. "Restaurant-grade."
Jun-ha let out a low whistle. "This might be the first time Ji-soo made anything other than headlines."
Ji-ah grinned. "Well, she does now."
The table was soon set—bowls of kimchi fried rice topped with fried eggs, sesame seeds, and a sprinkle of green onions. There was even a small pot of miso soup that Da-eun sneakily heated from the fridge.
As they all sat down together, laughter filled the room. It didn't feel like they were in a strange dimension. It felt like home.
And for a moment, all four of them—Ji-ah, Da-eun, Jun-ha, and even Hyun Min who quietly joined in—shared something simple and real.
A meal.
A moment.
A beginning.
---