Ten minutes later…
Y/N walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, a soft smudge of flour dusting her nose without her noticing. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, sleeves rolled, and there was something painfully adorable about the way she looked — like a cozy domestic drama heroine who had no idea she was about to star in a full-blown comedy scene.
She stopped in front of the sofa and crossed her arms.
"You handle the chaos like I asked?" she asked, brow arched.
Kim Bum looked up from the phone with the most casual, innocent smile ever painted on a devil's face.
"Yup," he said coolly, "all handled."
She blinked suspiciously but took the phone when he offered it. He even handed it over delicately, like a man handing back a newborn.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
She unlocked the screen — and paused.
"Wait…" she squinted. "My followers were like… 300. Why is it…"
She leaned in.
"…26k?!"
Her mouth dropped open.
"Oh no…"
She scrolled faster — the notifications were an absolute flood. Mentions, DMs, reposts, replies — people were screaming in comments, others trying to decode "who is she," some dragging out old posts, others screenshotting his follow like it was proof of a government conspiracy.
And then… her finger paused over one of the posts.
Someone had replied to her old "Lee Rang deserved a happy ending" reel.
> Fan: "Is he your boyfriend???"
And there it was — a reply.
From her account.
But she never replied to that.
> "He's my punishment for giving him a 'do-whatever-you-want' card. 😩"
Y/N blinked.
"…I didn't type that…"
She opened the comment thread, and more replies were stacked under her name — snarky, chaotic, teasing ones.
Her heart froze.
Her eyes slowly, very slowly, drifted up from the phone.
Kim Bum was standing now. Not running.
Just standing there, a little to the side of the bed, arms crossed with a mischievous, smug, fully guilty but pretending he's innocent grin.
"YOU—" she hissed, narrowing her eyes.
He raised his brows in mock surprise.
"Yes, little fox?"
"YOU'RE DEAD, MR. ACTOR!!"
She launched the pillow at him, but he dodged, laughing — already sprinting away toward the hallway.
She chased.
"COME BACK HERE, YOU DRAMA DEMON!!"
"I WAS JUST HELPING THE FANS!!" he shouted over his shoulder.
"You turned my comment section into a circus!!"
"They loved it! You're popular now!"
"YOU WERE REPLYING AS ME!!"
He skidded to a stop — and turned around abruptly.
Y/N wasn't expecting that.
She slammed into his chest with a soft thud, caught by his arms before she bounced off like a cartoon. Her hands pressed against him, and her cheeks turned pink. His body was warm from running, his breath slightly uneven, and his smile?
Downright sinful.
He leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling.
"Easy there, little fox. You'll break my ribs at this rate."
Y/N stared up at him, flustered and furious.
"You—! You—!"
He booped her nose with one finger — smearing the bit of flour she didn't realize she had.
"You even look cute when you're mad," he whispered.
Her brain short-circuited.
He took that opportunity to run again.
"YAHHHH!! COME BACK!!"
"NEVER!! I REGRET NOTHING!!"
As he ran into the living room, the phone buzzed again with a new message.
This time from a fan:
> "Wait, is she chasing him around the house now?? Did he post THAT too??"
And somewhere in the chaos, her mom peeked out from the kitchen with a ladle in hand and muttered:
"…Did I raise a daughter or adopt a sitcom?"
He skidded into the kitchen — and froze.
There was nowhere to run.
Literally.
The only way out was past the very person he just turned into a trending topic: Y/N, who now stood casually at the entrance, sleeves still rolled, apron tied around her waist, and that look on her face — the one that said, "Oh, I'm not mad… just plotting."
Kim Bum backed up slowly… until his back hit the wall near the counter. His eyes widened.
"No, no, no…" he mumbled under his breath.
She began walking toward him — slowly, deliberately, like a drama villainess with all the time in the world. Her hands were behind her back. Her smile was calm. Too calm.
He panicked.
"L-Little fox…" he stammered. "You… you said I'm your favorite actor!"
"Hmm?" she tilted her head innocently. "I might've said that once."
He gulped. "You can't just punish your favorite actor!"
She smirked. "Who said I can't?"
He shrank slightly, glancing to the side — but her mom was behind him, cooking, and clearly pretending not to notice as she stirred the curry with the kind of calm that meant she'd seen weirder.
Y/N stepped closer.
His back pressed tighter against the wall.
She narrowed her eyes. "So, Mr. Actor… Do you want to do the dishes?"
He blinked rapidly, nervous laughter bubbling out. "I—I don't know how to wash Pakistani dishes?"
She raised a brow. "Oh yeah?"
Another step closer.
Kim Bum's eyes flickered to her lips for a split second, then back up. His breath hitched. His ears turned a shade of red that matched the tomatoes her mom was chopping.
Then Y/N slowly lifted her hand and — bam — placed it beside his head, leaning in just enough for him to stop breathing altogether.
"So, Mr. Actor…" she said, low and dramatic, "what do you think… what type of punishment you deserve?"
He was absolutely flustered.
Mouth slightly open.
Brain: fried.
Actor mode: off.
"You… You're enjoying this," he whispered, realizing far too late.
Her eyes sparkled. "Oh, absolutely."
Then suddenly, she stepped back with a casual shrug, brushing imaginary lint off her apron.
"Lucky for you," she added sweetly, "I gave you the 'do-whatever-you-want' card. So I'm letting you off the hook today…"
He exhaled in relief — only for her to smirk over her shoulder and add:
"Otherwise, these Pakistani dishes would've had your name all over them."
She disappeared toward the fridge, humming.
He blinked.
Still in the corner.
Still processing.
"…I need to cancel my own fan privileges," he whispered.
Y/N's mom chuckled from the stove.
"Now you know what living with a fox feels like, beta."
Kim Bum nodded solemnly. "Yes, eommonim. I have learned."
The Next Evening…
It was peaceful.
Well — mostly.
The fanbase wasn't.
The fandom was currently on digital fire.
But inside the cozy house?
There was the sound of clacking laptop keys, a few frustrated sighs, the occasional scribble of a pen, and—
Laughter.
From him.
Kim Bum.
The man who broke his 0-follow streak on Instagram just to watch the world burn.
Currently lounging sideways on the sofa with her phone in his hand like it was a spicy drama episode, he scrolled endlessly — snorting, grinning, and sometimes laughing out loud at the comments pouring in.
Y/N?
Was seated across the room at the dining table, a war going on between her assignment and her patience.
She hadn't looked up at him in a while.
But every few minutes?
She glared.
Hard.
Like her eyeballs wanted to slap him.
"Little fox," he called, holding up her phone, "someone just asked if we met because you accidentally spilled tea on me at a café and I fell in love on the spot."
She didn't even flinch.
"Someone else," he added dramatically, "swears they saw us in Jeju once, holding hands in a bookstore."
Y/N's pen paused mid-sentence.
Slowly… she turned to him.
Expression blank. Voice flat.
"Do you need to read all of them out loud?"
Kim Bum grinned. "Well, they're about you. Or… well, us. And I am your one and only follow now. So really, it's my duty."
She squinted. "Your duty is to let me finish this assignment before I throw your phone into the rice cooker."
He gave a fake gasp and dramatically pulled the phone to his chest. "How dare you threaten my favorite device."
"I'm threatening your life, actually," she muttered.
He ignored that. (Smart.)
And instead turned back to the chaos still unfolding on her Instagram.
> "Who is she reallyyyyy???" "Are they dating or is this just the slowest burn in history???" "If they're not married in secret, I'm throwing my laptop into the ocean." "Kim Bum following ONE PERSON is crazy enough… but this? This account? This aesthetic, chaotic fanfic-writing, fox-loving girl??? I love this drama."
He chuckled again.
He wasn't even on his own account anymore.
He'd already checked that one — saw the "WHY DID YOU FOLLOW HER" questions flood his comments, too. His fanbase was collapsing in joyful confusion. But now?
He was deep in her comment section.
Old cozy posts. Edits. POV reels. Captions she probably didn't think twice about when she posted them.
He was reading them all.
Especially the ones where people tagged her now.
Asking for answers. Creating wild theories. Begging for a face reveal. Some even thinking it was all fake — a planned marketing stunt.
And all he did?
Was lounge and laugh.
He even whispered under his breath, "You really are a chaotic cupcake…"
Her head jerked up from her laptop. "What did you just call me?"
He blinked innocently. "Cupcake?"
"Chaotic cupcake?"
He pretended to think. "Ah. That. Yes. Your fans called you that."
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "Which fans?"
He tapped her phone. "Your very loud, very creative ones. Very obsessed. I'm quite proud of them."
"You're too proud of too many things right now," she muttered, then leaned back in her chair with a groan. "I'm literally trying to do assignments while my phone is committing social suicide."
He grinned.
She rubbed her temples. "I should shut it off."
"Then how will the world hear your witty replies?" he teased.
She stood up abruptly.
Walked over.
Took the phone out of his hand.
And shut it off.
The screen went black with a satisfying click.
Then she glared at him and said very calmly, "I'm putting it in a drawer. If you follow one more person, I will block you on everything."
He blinked up at her. "…You think I'd follow someone else?"
She didn't respond.
Just pointed two fingers at her eyes.
Then at him.
"I'm watching you," she said.
Then turned and walked back to her assignment.
He stared at her back with a soft smile.
Because while she was busy pretending to be mad…
While she was huffing and glaring and shutting off phones like a stern little fox…
He was falling.
Hard.
He hadn't confessed yet.
Hadn't even dared.
But oh, he knew.
He loved her.
He loved her chaotic glare. Her dramatic sighs. The way she chopped vegetables like she was declaring war. The way she defended her mom's breakfast like it was Michelin-star food. The way she edited his old drama scenes with captions like, "Lee Rang deserved peace." The way she accidentally said too much in captions and didn't realize half the world was reading now.
He loved it.
All of it.
And he loved her.
So, quietly, he pulled out his own phone now.
Scrolled through the same chaos — this time on his account.
Read what the fans said under his latest photo.
> "You've never followed anyone before. Why her?" "Is she someone important?" "Is she your girlfriend?" "Does she know what she means to you?"
And he smiled.
Not replying.
Not yet.
Just stared at the screen and whispered to himself, almost like a secret:
"She will."
Then glanced up at her again — hair a mess, frown on her face, fingers moving fast on her laptop keys.
His little fox.
Trying so hard to stay calm.
Trying so hard not to smile.
Trying so hard to ignore the fact that he broke the internet for her.
And he didn't regret a second.
Not one.