POV: Seo Ji-won
Day 6 – Friday Evening
Setting: Itaewon Restaurant, Streets of Itaewon
The email from Editor Kim arrives at 2:47 PM on Friday afternoon.
I'm at my Metro Pulse desk, half-asleep from the three hours of actual rest I managed after the fish market adventure, when my laptop pings with the notification. The subject line makes my stomach drop: "RE: Photo Essay Pitch - AND Update on Main Assignment."
I open it with a sense of dread.
*Ji-won,*
*The abandoned Seoul photo essay is interesting. I'm willing to let you pursue it as a secondary piece, but only if your primary assignment is on track.*
*Speaking of which—I need an update on "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days." You're now 6 days in with 4 days remaining. I should have received at least a rough draft by now.*
*Where are we with this? Do you have material? Are you documenting everything? I approved this pitch because you promised it would be satirical, punchy, and shareable. I need to see evidence that you're delivering.*
*Send me 1,000 words by Monday morning. Even if it's rough, I need to see the direction.*
*-Kim*
I read it three times, each time feeling worse.
Monday morning. That's three days away. Three days to produce 1,000 words of the satirical article I pitched—the one about deliberately sabotaging a relationship, exposing modern dating's absurdities, being the girlfriend from hell and loving it.
The article I can't write because I'm not being the girlfriend from hell. I'm the girlfriend who goes to fish markets at 3 AM and watches sunrises and agrees to meet his parents. I'm the girlfriend who's falling for someone she's supposed to be losing.
I pull up my "Field Notes" document. Current word count: 847 words. Most of it is clinical observations that say nothing true about what's actually happening.
I pull up my "Real Notes" document. Current word count: 3,972 words. All of it . None of it what Editor Kim wants.
My phone buzzes. Yu-jin.
Yu-jin: Dinner tonight? I need to discuss something important and also I miss your face.
Me: Can't. I have plans.
Yu-jin: Plans with the guy you're supposed to be losing but are clearly not losing?
Me:...yes.
Yu-jin: Ji-won. WHAT ARE YOU DOING.
Me: I don't know anymore.
Yu-jin: That's it. I'm staging an intervention. Where are you having dinner?
Me: It's a double date. Him, me, his friend Tae-hyun, and Tae-hyun's wife.
Yu-jin: TAE-HYUN??? Park Tae-hyun??? His wife is Mi-sun???
Me: I guess? Do you know them?
Yu-jin: MI-SUN IS MY COLLEGE ROOMMATE. We've been friends for 10 years. Small world. VERY small world. Which means I'm coming to this dinner.
Me: Yu-jin, no—
Yu-jin: Already texting Mi-sun. See you at 7.
Before I can protest further, my phone rings. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Ji-won-ssi? This is Kim Sun-hee, Min-jae's mother."
I nearly dropped my phone. "Mrs. Kang. Hello."
"I wanted to reach out before Sunday dinner. Make sure you're comfortable coming, that Min-jae hasn't pressured you into anything."
Her voice is warm but assessing. I can hear the unspoken subtext: *I'm checking if you're good enough for my son.*
"I'm not pressured. I'm looking forward to it."
"Good. Min-jae doesn't usually bring people home to meet us. You must be special."
The guilt hits like a physical blow. Special. Me. The person who started dating her son as an article subject, who's been documenting him for content, who's lying about everything.
"I hope so," I manage.
"Don't be nervous. We're very casual. Just family dinner. Oh, and Tae-hyun and Mi-sun will be there with their baby. Do you like children?"
"Yes. I have a younger brother. I'm comfortable around my family."
"Wonderful. See you Sunday at 6 PM. I'll text you the address."
After we hang up, I sit at my desk in the middle of the Metro Pulse office, surrounded by colleagues typing and talking and living their normal work lives, and I want to scream.
This has spiraled completely out of control.
I'm meeting his mother on Sunday. His mother, who thinks I'm special, who's planning family dinner, who doesn't know I'm writing an article about losing her son.
I need to tell Min-jae. Tonight. Before this goes any further.
But tonight is a double date with his friends—and apparently my friend too—and I can't drop this conversation bomb in front of witnesses.
Tomorrow then. Tomorrow when we explore abandoned buildings. I'll tell him everything, apologize, give him the choice to walk away. It's only fair. It's the only honest thing to do.
My hands are shaking as I close my laptop.
At 7 PM, I'm standing outside a modern Korean restaurant in Itaewon, watching Seoul's international district come alive with Friday night energy. The restaurant is trendy—exposed brick, minimalist design, the kind of place where you need reservations.
Min-jae arrives first, and my heart does something complicated when I see him. He's wearing dark jeans and a burgundy sweater, hair slightly damp like he just showered. He looks good. He always looks good, but tonight there's something extra—an ease to his movements, a genuine smile when he spots me.
"Hi," he says, and kisses my cheek like it's natural, like we've been doing this for years instead of six days.
"Hi. You look nice."
"You look beautiful."
I'm wearing a simple black dress and ankle boots, but the way he says it makes me feel like I'm wearing something extraordinary.
"Ready for this?" he asks.
"Double date with your friends? How hard could it be?"
Famous last words.
We enter the restaurant just as Tae-hyun and Mi-sun arrive—a couple in their early thirties, tall and friendly-looking, her petite with sharp, observant eyes. Mi-sun lights up when she sees me.
"Ji-won! It's so nice to finally meet you. Min-jae have been—" She pauses, noticing something over my shoulder. "Oh my god. YU-JIN?"
Yu-jin appears beside me, grinning. "Surprise! I heard you were having dinner and couldn't resist crashing."
The next five minutes are chaos—squealing, hugging, rapid-fire Korean catching-up between old friends who haven't seen each other in months. Tae-hyun and Min-jae watch with amused confusion.
"How do you two know each other?" Min-jae asks me quietly.
"College roommates. Best friends for six years."
"And Mi-sun is Tae-hyun's wife."
"Apparently Seoul is a very small city."
We're seated at a large table—the five of us plus a high chair for Mi-sun and Tae-hyun's six-month-old daughter, who's asleep and somehow still the most peaceful person at the table.
The server brings menus, and I realize with growing dread that this is going to be complicated. Yu-jin knows about the article. Mi-sun is married to Tae-hyun, who's Min-jae's best friend. Every conversation feels like navigating a minefield where one wrong word could expose everything.
"So," Mi-sun says once we've ordered, her eyes are moving between Min-jae and me with interest. "How did you two meet?"
"Gallery opening," Min-jae says. "She spilled wine on me."
"I didn't spill—okay, I did spill wine on him. It was an accident."
"Best accident ever," Min-jae adds, and his hand finds mine under the table.
Yu-jin catches my eye across the table. Her expression says: *We need to talk. Immediately.*
"That's so romantic," Mi-sun says. "Tae-hyun and I met at a work conference. Very boring compared to wine-spilling."
"At least you didn't ruin an expensive shirt," Tae-hyun says, grinning at Min-jae. "How's that turtleneck, by the way?"
"Dry-cleaned and retired to the back of my closet. Too many memories."
The server brings soju and beer—the standard Korean dinner drinks—and Tae-hyun pours for everyone. "To new friends and old friends and very small cities."
We drink, and the conversation flows naturally. Too naturally. Mi-sun asks about my work at Metro Pulse, and I give the vague "lifestyle journalism" explanation I always give. Yu-jin asks Min-jae about advertising, and he talks about the Luminé campaign with genuine passion.
It's nice. Normal. Exactly the kind of double date that happens every Friday night in Seoul—friends introducing their partners, everyone getting along, laughter and soju and shared food.
Except nothing about this is normal for me.
Halfway through dinner, Mi-sun excuses herself to change the baby, and Yu-jin immediately jumps up. "I'll help!" She practically drags Mi-sun toward the bathroom, but not before shooting me a look that clearly says: *Stay here. We're discussing you.*
I'm left at the table with Min-jae and Tae-hyun. The men are deep in conversation about some basketball game, and I'm picking at my kimchi jjigae, trying not to spiral about what Yu-jin and Mi-sun are discussing in the bathroom.
"Ji-won?" Min-jae's voice pulls me back. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just tired. The fish market caught up with me."
"Worth it though, right?"
"Definitely worth it."
Tae-hyun watches this exchange with undisguised interest. "So you two seem pretty serious. For six days."
I nearly choked on my soju. "Six days isn't that serious."
"Min-jae's bringing you to meet his parents Sunday. That's serious."
"Your wife orchestrated that, not him."
"But he agreed. And he never brings anyone to meet his parents." Tae-hyun leans forward. "I've known him for five years. You're the first person he's introduced to family. That means something."
Min-jae looks uncomfortable. "Tae-hyun—"
"I'm just saying. You're different with her. More relaxed. More yourself."
"Is this the part where you give me the shovel talk?" I try to keep my tone light, but my heart is racing.
"No. This is the part where I say I'm happy for him. And I hope you're serious because if you hurt him, Mi-sun will kill you. She's very protective."
The weight of those words settles over me. If I hurt him. When I hurt him. Because that's what's going to happen when I tell him the truth—I'm going to hurt someone who's been nothing but kind and genuine and exactly the kind of person I didn't think existed.
Yu-jin and Mi-sun return from the bathroom, and Yu-jin's expression is unreadable. Mi-sun reclaims her seat, checks on the baby, and smiles at me warmly.
"Yu-jin was just telling me about your college days. I can't believe we never met back then."
"Different majors, different schedules," Yu-jin says smoothly. "But I'm glad we're all connected now."
The server brings more food—grilled meat, side dishes, more soju. The conversation continues, but I'm hyperaware of Yu-jin watching me, of the unspoken conversation we need to have.
Finally, after we've eaten and are lingering over drinks, Yu-jin stands. "Bathroom again. Ji-won, come with?"
It's not a question.
In the restaurant bathroom—clean and modern with soft lighting—Yu-jin turns to me immediately.
"What are you doing?"
"Having dinner?"
"Don't be cute. You're six days into an article about losing a guy, and you're having a couple dinners with his best friends. You're meeting his parents on Sunday. Ji-won, this has gone way past article research."
"I know."
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, you're in an actual relationship with someone who has no idea you're writing about him."
"I'm going to tell him. Tomorrow."
"Are you really? Or are you going to keep finding excuses to delay because you've fallen for him?"
The accusation hangs between us. I lean against the bathroom sink, my reflection in the mirror looking tired and guilty.
"I didn't mean to fall for him."
"But you did."
"Yeah. I did."
Yu-jin's expression softens. "Oh, Ji-won. What are you going to do?"
"Tell him tomorrow. Give him the choice to walk away. Probably lose him. Definitely lose the article. Maybe lose my job when Editor Kim finds out I can't deliver."
"Or you write the honest article. The one about trying to lose someone and realizing you don't want to."
"That's not what Editor Kim approved."
"But it's what actually happened. And it might be better than what you originally pitched."
"Or it might be career suicide."
"Maybe. But at least it would be honest." Yu-jin touches my arm. "You have to tell him, Ji-won. Before Sunday. Before he introduces you to his family under false pretenses. You owe him that."
"I know."
We return to the table. Min-jae looks up when I sit, and his expression is soft, open. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Girl talk."
"That sounds ominous."
"Just Yu-jin being protective. Apparently, I need protection."
"From me?" He looks genuinely concerned.
"From making bad decisions. It's a long-standing friendship tradition."
The evening winds down. We pay the bill—splitting it five ways despite Min-jae's protests—and head out into Itaewon's Friday night chaos. The streets are packed with people bar-hopping, couples walking hand-in-hand, groups of tourists taking photos.
Tae-hyun and Mi-sun say goodbye first—they have to get the baby home. Mi-sun hugs me warmly. "See you Sunday! I'm so glad Min-jae found someone."
The guilt is crushing.
Yu-jin lingers, pulling me aside while Min-jae is saying goodbye to Tae-hyun.
"Tomorrow," she says quietly. "Tell him tomorrow. For both your sakes."
"I will. I promise."
She hugs me tightly. "I love you. Even when you're a disaster."
After Yu-jin leaves, it's just Min-jae and me on the Itaewon street, Friday night energy swirling around us.
"Want to walk?" he asks.
"Sure."
We wander aimlessly, no destination in mind. Past late-night restaurants and boutiques and bars with music spilling onto the sidewalk. Min-jae hold my hand, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
"Your friends are nice," I say.
"They liked you. Tae-hyun especially. He doesn't give his approval easily."
"What about Mi-sun?"
"She texted me during dinner. Said, and I quote: 'If you screw this up, I'm personally divorcing you on Tae-hyun's behalf.'"
I laugh despite the guilt. "She's protective."
"She's right to be. I have a history of screwing things up."
"How?"
Min-jae is quiet for a moment, navigating around a group of tourists. "I get scared. When things get real, I find excuses to leave before I can get hurt. It's cowardly."
"It's human."
"Maybe. But I don't want to do that with you."
My throat tightens. "Min-jae—"
"I know it's only been six days. I know that's not enough time to really know someone. But I feel like I do know you. Or at least, I want to know you. All the parts you don't show people."
"What if those parts aren't good? What if I'm not who you think I am?"
He stops walking, turns to face me fully. "Then I want to know that version too. The messy, complicated, not-good version. I'm not looking for perfect, Ji-won. I'm looking for real."
I want to cry. I want to tell him everything right now—the article, the assignment, the fact that I started dating him as a subject and ended up falling for him as a person. But we're standing on a crowded Itaewon street at 9 PM on a Friday night, surrounded by strangers and noise, and this isn't the right moment.
Tomorrow. I'll tell him tomorrow at the abandoned buildings. I'll find the right words and the right moment and I'll be honest, and then he can decide if the real, messy, complicated version of me is worth staying for.
"I want real too," I say quietly.
Min-jae kisses me then. Not my forehead like the last two times—my lips. Soft at first, then deeper, his hand cupping my face, and for a moment, everything else falls away. The guilt, the article, the lies. Just this moment, this kiss, this person I didn't expect to care about.
When we break apart, he's smiling. "I've wanted to do that since the library."
"That was only two days ago."
"Longest two days of my life."
We caught a taxi back to my neighborhood. In the backseat, Min-jae's arm around my shoulders, I lean against him and think about tomorrow. About the conversation that will either end this or transform it into something honest.
At my building, he walks me to the door again. It's become our ritual—this moment where we say goodnight, where possibility hangs in the air.
"Tomorrow," he says. "Abandoned buildings. I'll pick you up at noon?"
"Noon works."
"And Ji-won?" He brushes hair from my face. "Thank you for tonight. For meeting my friends. For being here."
"Thank you for introducing me. For trusting me with your people."
After he leaves, I climb the stairs to my apartment. Inside, I sit at my desk and open both documents—the field notes and the real notes.
Editor Kim wants 1,000 words by Monday. Three days away.
I need to tell Min-jae the truth tomorrow. One day away.
I close the field notes without adding anything.
I open the real notes and type:
*Day 6: Double date with his best friends. Met Yu-jin there by coincidence—turns out Seoul is impossibly small. His friend Tae-hyun said I'm the first person Min-jae has introduced to family. Mi-sun said if I hurt him, she'll personally handle it.*
*He kissed me. Really kissed me. On a crowded Itaewon street, surrounded by Friday night chaos, and for a moment, I forgot about the article and the lies and just existed in that moment.*
*Yu-jin said I have to tell him tomorrow. She's right. I know she's right.*
*Tomorrow, we explore abandoned buildings. Tomorrow, I tell him the truth. Tomorrow, everything either ends or begins.*
*I'm terrified of both possibilities.*
I close the laptop and lie in bed, staring at my ceiling. Through my window, Friday night Seoul continues its party—voices, music, the distant sound of traffic. Life happens while mine hangs in suspension.
Tomorrow. One word, infinite weight.
Tomorrow I tell Min-jae the truth, and we find out if what we've built over six days can survive honesty.
I fell asleep with my phone in my hand, his last text still on the screen: *Sweet dreams. Can't wait for tomorrow.*
Neither can I. For entirely different reasons.