POV: Kang Min-jae
Day 9 – Monday Afternoon
Setting: PRISM Creative Office, Client Meeting
The pitch is perfect.
At 1:47 PM, thirteen minutes before my meeting with James Woo, I'm standing in PRISM's main conference room reviewing the final presentation. Hannah's photos from yesterday are stunning—Ji-won and I against Bukchon's traditional architecture, the light perfect, the emotion undeniable. The campaign boards showcase authentic romance exactly as I'd envisioned: real couples, real moments, jewelry as witness rather than centerpiece.
The tagline—"Love, Unfiltered"—sits below an image of Ji-won looking up at me on those stone steps, my hand in hers, both of us mid-conversation. We look happy. Real. Like two people who genuinely care about each other.
Which we are. Despite everything.
"It's really good," Tae-hyun says from the doorway. He's been helping me prep all morning—reviewing talking points, anticipating questions, being the supportive friend who started this whole mess with a bet nine days ago.
"Thanks. I think James will respond well to it."
"He will. It's authentic. That's what he wanted." Tae-hyun pauses. "You're still telling Ji-won tonight, right? After the pitch?"
"Yes. Tonight. We both confess, and then—" I don't finish the sentence because I don't know how it ends.
"And then you either move forward honestly or you don't. But at least you'll know."
So-yeon appears with Jun-ho trailing behind her. "Pep talk time," she announces. "You're going to nail this pitch. James Woo is going to love it. And then you're going to celebrate by finally being honest with your girlfriend."
"She's right," Jun-ho adds. "Also, we all have bets on whether you two survive the honesty conversation. I said yes, for what it's worth."
"That's weirdly touching," I say.
"I'm a romantic. Sue me."
Director Choi enters, checking his watch. "James Woo's assistant just confirmed. He's on his way up. You ready?"
"Ready."
They all file out, leaving me alone with the presentation boards and my racing thoughts. This pitch represents six weeks of work, multiple revisions, and professional validation I've been chasing for years. If James approves it, I prove I'm more than surface charm and family connections. I prove I can create something meaningful.
But the irony remains: I'm pitching authentic romance based on a relationship that started as a bet. I'm selling honesty while keeping secrets.
Thirty minutes from now, this will be over. And tonight, I tell Ji-won everything, and we find out if what we've built can survive the truth.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
"Kang Min-jae."
"Min-jae, it's James. I'm running about ten minutes late. Traffic. But I wanted to call ahead to say—I'm excited about this. The preview you sent of the photos? That's exactly the direction I wanted. See you soon."
He hangs up before I can respond.
I should feel relieved. He's excited. He liked the preview. This is good news.
Instead, I feel sick.
At 2:07 PM, James Woo arrives with his assistant and the Luminé marketing director—a woman named Sarah Park who's been copied on all our correspondence. James is exactly as I remember: perfectly tailored suit, calm authority, the kind of presence that makes you want to impress him.
"Min-jae." He shakes my hand warmly. "Good to see you. Ready to show me what you've prepared?"
"Absolutely. Please, have a seat."
They settle around the conference table, and I begin.
I walk them through the revised concept—"Love, Unfiltered"—explaining the shift from aspirational romance to authentic moments. I show them the mood boards, the photo series, the proposed campaign rollout across digital and print. I explain the target demographic: couples who want jewelry that reflects their real lives, not Instagram-perfect fantasies.
"The insight," I say, standing beside the Bukchon photos, "is that real romance isn't perfect. It's choosing someone in imperfect moments. It's showing up honestly even when it's complicated. It's finding beauty in the ordinary."
James leans forward, studying the images. "These photos. This is you and your girlfriend?"
"Yes. Ji-won. She agreed to be part of the campaign."
"She's lovely. And the chemistry—you can't fake that." James looks at Sarah. "What do you think?"
Sarah has been taking notes throughout. "I think it's brilliant. It's different from anything else in the luxury jewelry space. It positions Luminé as the brand for real people, real relationships. The authenticity angle will resonate, especially with younger buyers who are skeptical of traditional advertising."
James nods slowly, still studying the photos. "Tell me about her. Your girlfriend. How long have you been together?"
The question catches me off guard. "Nine days."
James's eyebrows rise. "Nine days?"
"We met at a gallery opening just over a week ago. It's been... intense."
"I can see that." James gestures to the photos. "This doesn't look like nine days. This looks like people who've known each other much longer."
"Sometimes connection accelerates. When it's real, time doesn't follow normal rules."
"And is it real?"
I meet his eyes. "Yes. It's real."
James studies me for a long moment, and I have the uncomfortable feeling he can see straight through me—past the polished presentation of the guilt and secrets underneath.
"Good," he finally says. "Because that's what makes this campaign work. The authenticity. The genuine emotion. If you were faking this, I'd know."
My mouth goes dry.
Sarah jumps in. "The campaign timeline you proposed—can we move faster? I'd love to have this in the market by December for holiday gifting."
I force myself to focus. "We can accelerate. Hannah can shoot additional couples within two weeks. Copy and design can be finalized in parallel. If we push, we could launch early December."
We spend the next twenty minutes discussing logistics—budget, timeline, media placement, creative approvals. James asks sharp questions about targeting and messaging. Sarah wants to discuss influencer partnerships and social strategy.
It's going well. Better than well. They're bought in, excited, already planning the rollout.
Then James says: "One last thing. I'd like to feature you and Ji-won in the campaign. Not as models, but as the real couple that inspired it. Brief interview, behind-the-scenes content for social media. Would you both be comfortable with that?"
Every alarm in my body goes off simultaneously.
"Feature us? Like, publicly?"
"Yes. It adds another layer of authenticity. The creative director who designed the campaign with his real girlfriend. It's a great story. Human interest. People love that."
"I'd need to ask Ji-won. She's private about—"
"Of course. Talk to her and let me know. But think about it—this could be huge for Luminé and for PRISM. Your agency becomes the one that doesn't just create authentic campaigns, but lives them."
The meeting concludes with handshakes and congratulations. James approves the campaign pending final details. Sarah is already scheduling follow-up meetings. They leave excited, talking about launch dates and media buys.
I stand alone in the conference room feeling like I'm going to throw up.
I can't feature Ji-won in a public campaign. Not when we're confessing mutual deceptions tonight. Not when there's a real possibility this relationship ends after tonight's conversation.
And even if we survive tonight—even if we both confess and somehow work through it—how can I ask her to be the public face of authentic romance when we build this on lies?
My phone buzzes. Tae-hyun burst back into the room.
"They loved it! I heard James on his way out. He approved the campaign! Min-jae, you did it!"
"He wants to feature me and Ji-won in the campaign. Publicly. As the couple that inspired it."
Tae-hyun's celebration falters. "Oh. That's... complicated."
"That's one word for it."
So-yeon and Jun-ho appear, equally celebratory until they read my expression.
"What's wrong?" So-yeon asks. "You just landed the biggest campaign of your career."
"James wants to feature Ji-won and me publicly. Interview, behind-the-scenes content, the whole thing. And I haven't told her about the bet yet. Or that these photos are going to be in an international jewelry campaign. Or anything."
The room goes silent.
"Okay," Jun-ho says slowly. "That's definitely complicated."
"You need to tell her today," So-yeon says firmly. "Before this goes any further. Before she sees herself in a campaign she didn't fully consent to."
"We're telling each other tonight. We both have confessions."
"What's her confession?" Tae-hyun asks.
"I don't know. But she said it's something that will make me question if any of this was real."
The three of them exchange glances.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," So-yeon says too quickly.
"Not nothing. What?"
Tae-hyun shifts uncomfortably. "Mi-sun mentioned something. About how Ji-won seemed... performative at dinner. Like she was playing a role."
"Everyone's performative on double dates."
"Maybe. But Mi-sun has good instincts about people. And Yu-jin—her friend—seemed really protective. Like she was monitoring Ji-won. Making sure she was okay or keeping her from saying something."
My stomach churns. "You think she's hiding something as big as the bet?"
"I don't know what she's hiding. But you're both hiding something, and tonight you're both confessing. Maybe—" Tae-hyun pauses. "Maybe you both started this wrong and it became right anyway."
I sank into one of the conference room chairs. "Or maybe we both started this wrong and tonight we find out it was wrong all along."
"Don't spiral," So-yeon says, sitting beside me. "You pitched authentic romance, and James approved it because he could see the real feelings in those photos. Whatever happens tonight, that was real. You can't fake what you two have."
My phone buzzes. Ji-won.
Ji-won: How'd the pitch go?
Me: Really well. James approved the campaign.
Ji-won: THAT'S AMAZING! Congratulations! I knew you'd nail it.
Me: Thanks. But there's a complication. Can we talk tonight? Earlier than planned?
Ji-won: How early?
Me: Now? Can you come to my office?
There's a long pause.
Ji-won: Is everything okay?
Me: I need to tell you something about the campaign. And the photos. And everything. Please?
Ji-won: Okay. Give me 40 minutes.
I set down my phone and looked at my friends still gathered in the conference room.
"She's coming here. We're doing this now. The confession. Both of us."
"Here? At the office?" So-yeon looks alarmed.
"I can't wait until tonight. Not with James wanting to feature us publicly. I need to tell her about the bet before this gets more complicated."
"Good luck," Tae-hyun says quietly. "We'll be at our desks if you need us."
They leave, and I'm alone with the campaign boards and the photos of Ji-won and me looking happy and real and built on secrets neither of us has told.
Forty minutes. Forty minutes to figure out how to confess that I started dating her because of a bet without destroying everything we've built.
I walk to my desk and pull up the text thread with Ji-won. Scroll back to Day 1. The seventeen messages I sent before 8 AM. Her enthusiasm about the tea house date. The gradual progression from strangers to whatever we are now.
Somewhere in this thread, we stopped performing and started being real. I just need to make her see that. Make her understand that yes, it started with a bet, but it became something true.
At 3:34 PM, the receptionist calls. "Min-jae, you have a visitor. Ji-won?"
"Send her back."
I stand at my desk, heart pounding, and watch Ji-won navigate through the office toward me. She's wearing work clothes—black slacks, a cream blouse, looking professional and beautiful and completely unaware that in the next few minutes, I'm going to tell her something that might end everything.
"Hi," she says when she reaches my desk. "Your office is nice. Very creative."
"Hi. Thanks for coming."
"You sounded urgent. Is everything okay?"
"We should go to a meeting room. Somewhere private."
Her face pales slightly. "Okay. That sounds ominous."
I led her to one of the smaller conference rooms—glass-walled but with blinds we can close. Once we're inside, I pull the blinds down, creating a bubble of privacy in the middle of the open office.
"Min-jae, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
"James approved the campaign. That's the good news."
"Okay..."
"The photos from yesterday—they're going to be in the campaign. In print, digital, probably billboards. You'll be the face of the Luminé's Valentine's campaign alongside me."
Ji-won blinks. "I'll be... wait. You didn't tell me that. When we did the photoshoot, you said a couple photos for the pitch. Not for the actual public campaign."
"I didn't know James would want to use them publicly. I thought they were just for the presentation. But he loved them, and now he wants to feature us—interview content, behind-the-scenes, the whole thing. As the real couple that inspired the campaign."
"No." Ji-won's voice is sharp. "No. I can't be in a public campaign. Min-jae, I can't—"
"I know. That's why I called you here. I need to tell you why you can't be. And I need to tell you about why I asked you out in the first place."
She goes very still. "What?"
This is it. The confession I've been avoiding for nine days. I take a breath.
"There was a bet. At work. My colleague—Tae-hyun—bet me that I couldn't maintain a relationship for ten days. I accepted. And when I met you at the gallery, I saw an opportunity to prove him wrong."
Ji-won stares at me. "A bet."
"Yes. But Ji-won, listen—it stopped being about the bet almost immediately. By Day Two, maybe Day Three, I wasn't doing it for the bet anymore. I was doing it because I genuinely wanted to know you. The feelings are real. Everything after that first date was real."
"You asked me out because of a bet." Her voice is flat, emotionless. "You've been dating me to win a bet."
"I've been dating you because I care about you. The bet was how it started, but it's not why I stayed."
"How long? How long were you planning to keep this secret?"
"I was going to tell you today. Tonight. We both were going to confess, remember? You said you had something to tell me too."
"I do." Ji-won's voice shakes now. "I have something to tell you. But you need to go first. You need to tell me everything about this bet. Every detail."
So I do. I tell her about the team meeting, Tae-hyun's challenge, and the creative control prize. I told her about choosing her at the gallery because she seemed interesting and available. I told her about the ten-day timeline and how I realized by the fish market—maybe earlier—that none of it mattered except being with her.
"Everything I said to you was true," I finished. "The feelings, the wanting to see you, the confession at Bukchon yesterday about these being the most real days of my life—all true. The beginning was dishonest, but everything after I became honest."
Ji-won is crying now, silent tears running down her face. "You used me to win a bet."
"I used a bet as an excuse to date you. But that's not—"
"That's exactly what it is." She stands abruptly. "I need to go."
"Wait. You said you had something to tell me too. Ji-won, please. Whatever you're hiding, I'll understand. We both started this wrong. We can fix it."
She laughs, bitter. "You want to know what I was hiding?"
"Yes."
"I'm a writer, Min-jae. I write articles. And I pitched an article called 'How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days.' You weren't the subject of a bet. You were the subject of an article. I was supposed to sabotage our relationship and write about it."
The words hit like physical blows.
"You... what?"
"I chose you at the gallery as my article subject. I spent nine days documenting you. The invasive questions, the moving too fast—that wasn't me being nervous. That was me executing my assignment."
"So none of it was real?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears.
"I don't know!" She's crying harder now. "It was supposed to be fake, but it became real, just like you said. But the difference is I was writing about you. Publishing you. Using your actual life as content."
"Did you publish it?"
"I submitted it this morning. To my editor. For the article due today."
The room spins. "This morning. You submitted an article about losing me this morning. While I was preparing to pitch a campaign about authentic romance based on us."
"I didn't use your name. I was kind about it. But yes."
We stand on opposite sides of the small conference room, both crying now, both destroyed by mutual confession.
"So we both used each other," I say finally.
"I guess we did."
"But the feelings were real. You said the feelings were real."
"They were. They are. But how does that matter when we build everything on lies?"
I don't have an answer.
Ji-won wipes her eyes, composing herself with visible effort. "I need to go. I need to—I can't be here right now."
"Don't. Please. We can figure this out. We both confessed. We both admitted we started wrong. Can't we figure out how to move forward?"
"I don't know how to move forward from this." She heads for the door. "Congratulations on your campaign, Min-jae. I'm glad my participation was useful."
"Ji-won—"
But she's already gone, walking fast through the office toward the elevators, and I'm left standing in the conference room surrounded by campaign materials for authentic romance, having just destroyed the most authentic thing I've ever experienced.