The gentle hum of the sedan's engine was the only sound as we left the ostentatious world of haute couture behind. The quiet was a welcome reprieve, but my mind was already racing ahead, plotting the next move.
Reaching for a plain, unmarked plastic bag on the seat beside me, I glanced toward the front. "Butler Kim," I asked, trying to sound casual. "You got… everything I asked for?"
"Of course, Young Miss," his calm voice replied from the passenger seat. "The convenience store by the atelier had a sufficient selection."
"Perfect."
I unrolled the top of the bag with a crinkling sound that felt wonderfully mundane. Peering inside, I felt a giddy thrill. No silks or satins here. Just simple, effective tools.
I pulled out the contents one by one, laying them on the seat like a spy preparing for a drop.
A simple black baseball cap.
A pair of large, dark-framed glasses.
And finally, a disposable black KF94 mask.
A trio of anonymity. The ultimate Seoulite incognito kit, and my ticket to observing the plot as a background character.
I held up the glasses, looking at my distorted reflection in the tinted lenses.
A slow smile spread across my face. Today I wasn't just Austra Law, the villainess-fiancée. I was… undercover. A ghost in the machine of my own favorite drama.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I pulled the cap over my head, tucking stray strands of wine-red hair out of sight.
I slid the glasses on, the world taking on a slightly darker, more cinematic hue. Finally, I hooked the mask over my ears.
I caught Butler Kim's reflection in the rearview mirror.
His eyebrows were slightly raised, the pinnacle of his expression for 'profoundly bewildered but too polite to comment.'
The car rolled to a stop a block away from the pin on my map. "I'll get out here," I said, already gathering my bag.
Butler Kim moved to exit, his duty a reflex.
"No, wait," I said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder through the open partition. "You don't have to come. I'll be back. Just wait for me here."
I couldn't have the obsidian-black sedan or a dignified butler in a three-piece suit blowing my flimsy, convenience-store disguise. This was a stealth op.
The late afternoon sun was warm as I walked, the baseball cap pulled low and the mask secure. 'Today, I'm gathering intel.'
I'd lain awake last night, the signed contract feeling both like a shield and a shackle.
The original Austra got a bad ending. I refused to let that be my fate.
Step one: see if my chaos had actually changed the story's current. Step two: find the most natural, least-pan-inducing way to get the FL and ML together. What better place to start than the FL's safe haven, where she'd inevitably complain about her boss to her best friends?
And, of course, the fact that he might be there too…
Soon, I reached a cozy corner cafe with large windows and warm, inviting light spilling onto the sidewalk. Daeho's Corner.
The bell above the door gave a cheerful ding as I pushed inside.
"Welcome in!" A bright, energetic voice called out.
I knew that voice. Kim Gyuri, Lee Yoon-ah's wisdom-dispensing, fiercely loyal best friend.
She was exactly as portrayed—vibrant, her hands full with a tray, her smile immediate and genuine. She gestured with her chin toward a small table at the very back. "You can sit there!"
I gave a quick nod, my voice trapped behind my mask, and hurried to the seat. It was the perfect vantage point—close to the wall, partially obscured by a large potted plant, with a direct line of sight to the booth I knew was theirs.
She approached to take my order when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, and a knowing smile lit up her face. "Oh, she's here," she murmured. She looked back at me, apologetic. "Please wait just a moment, I'll have someone take your order!"
Knowing exactly who "she" was, I just nodded again, quickly pulling out a small notebook and pen from my bag. 'Okay, observe. Take notes. Plot deviations. Emotional states. Then, as soon as I finish go get ready for tonight.'
I'd barely uncapped my pen when a gentle, warm voice spoke from my side.
"Excuse me, what would you like to order?"
I looked up. And there he was.
In the soft, golden light of his own cafe, stood Kim Daeho.
The innocence in his smile, the kind, attentive eyes that promised to hold your problems—every pixel of the Second Lead Syndrome arch exemplar, rendered in heartbreakingly real life.
"Eh-hem." I cleared my throat, pitching my voice lower and rougher. "Can I get a waffle, please?"
"Sure thing. Coming right up," he said, his smile never dimming before he turned back toward the kitchen.
A chorus of giggles erupted from a table of high school girls behind me, their eyes tracking him.
'Ugh... poor guy. He really shouldn't pin his hopes on Lee Yoon-ah. They're just not written that way. And I hate that he'll only realize the depth of his feelings when someone 'better' is already in the picture. Look at him! He's literally surrounded by admirers. Why her, of all the—'
My internal rant was cut off by the cheerful ding of the doorbell again.
I looked up.
And she walked in.
Lee Yoon-ah. Still in her sleek secretary attire, her obsidian hair in its efficient ponytail.
The faint shadows under her eyes spoke of overwork, but the gentle, resilient smile she wore promised that everything would, somehow, be okay.
It was a smile that genuinely seemed to brighten the very air of the cozy cafe.
"Finally, you're here!" Gyuri chirped, swooping in to give her a one-armed hug.
"Sorry, I was buried in work," Yoon-ah sighed, the sound full of a familiar, endearing exhaustion.
"Oh, come on! Corporate life is brutal, but you can't forget your best friends!" Gyuri scolded playfully, steering her toward the booth directly in front of my table.
'Right on schedule.' I'd chosen this seat for a reason. This was their spot.
I was just leaning slightly, trying to tune my ears to their conversation, when a soft click sounded beside me. A plate bearing a perfectly golden waffle was set down before me.
"Here's your order, miss," came the warm voice again.
I looked up. Kim Daeho was standing there, wiping his hands on his apron, that kind smile still in place.
"Th-Thank you," I mumbled, picking up my fork.
"Hey, Kim Daeho! Yoon-ah's here, come say hi!" Gyuri called from the booth.
He turned, and his entire face transformed. It wasn't just his customer-service smile anymore. It softened, warmed, became utterly personal. His eyes found Lee Yoon-ah, and a different kind of light sparked in them.
She looked up and smiled at him, a tired but genuinely happy expression. "How's it going, friend?" she said.
Gyuri watched, Daeho look at Yoon-ah, her sharp eyes missing nothing. She nudged his foot under the table, a silent, sisterly signal.
'Another love triangle,' I thought, scribbling in my notebook with a pang of sadness. 'Just a smaller, quieter, more tragic one tucked inside the main drama.'
The three friends settled into their booth, the easy familiarity of years wrapping around them. And I took a bite of my waffle while writing down my notes.
"So, how's work?" Daeho asked, his voice gentle as he slid a cup of tea toward Yoon-ah.
"Busy," she sighed, the sound carrying the weight of spreadsheets and late nights. "The merger files are endless."
Gyuri leaned in, her expression turning mischievous. "And what about that boss of yours? Is he making you stay after everyone leaves again?"
"He's just… driven," Yoon-ah defended, but it was weak. "The work has to get done."
"You shouldn't overexert yourself," Daeho said, his concern palpable. "Your health comes first. And it's not like you're the only employee in that whole building."
"I'm okay. I have to be," Yoon-ah replied, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "I need to pay off the loans."
Gyuri's playful mood shifted into something more protective. "Fine. But what about his little fan club? That little rich brat from the Law Group? Did she come mess with you again like yesterday?"
Kim Daeho's head snapped up, his gentle eyes hardening. "What? What happened?"
I gulped, my fork freezing mid-air over the waffle. 'Looks like my actions have echoes.'
"It was nothing," Yoon-ah said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. "Miss Austra is just… a little unwell lately."
My heart sank a little. 'My Female Lead already sees me as 'unwell.' Not a villain, but a malfunction.'
Gyuri huffed, unconvinced. "Unwell or not, she's trouble. You should be careful."
"Don't tell this to anyone," Yoon-ah whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. The other two instinctively mirrored her, their heads drawing closer.
My own breath hitched. "But… it seems she just got engaged to the CEO. Officially." Lee Yoon Ah said.
"What? You're serious?" Gyuri gasped, her voice a stage whisper.
"Yeah," Yoon-ah confirmed, her expression unreadable. "They're going to announce it soon, I think. And get married."
A heavy silence fell over their table. Daeho looked down at his hands. Gyuri shook her head.
"Well," Gyuri finally muttered, "hopefully once he's married, he'll at least stop making you work insane hours. A married man should go home to his wife, not his secretary."
"Speaking of getting married," Gyuri pivoted, her tone deliberately lightening. "What about you? When are you and Minhyuk-oppa getting married? Aren't you two together, like, six years now? That should be enough time to know!"
'That's right. Her boyfriend.' My grip tightened on my pen. 'That bastard!'
Yoon-ah's smile became brittle, a fragile porcelain thing. "Oh, we're both still young. And busy with work…"
"Is everything okay with him?" Daeho asked, his voice low with a concern that went beyond friendly.
"Of course!" she said, a little too brightly. She fumbled for her phone. "Oh, speaking of, he should be at work now. Let me just send him a quick message."
She typed out a text to a contact saved as 💖 Minhyuk 💖 and hit send. We all waited in the suspended animation of modern communication.
The whoosh of the sent message was followed by… nothing. No quick double-check. No typing bubbles.
"Looks like he's busy," she said, the forced cheer in her voice like tin.
Her two friends exchanged a look over her bowed head—a look of shared, helpless worry.
Just then, Yoon-ah's phone didn't buzz with a text. It rang. The generic, piercing trill of a work call. The screen lit up: CEO Han.
All three of them sighed in unison, a perfect harmony of resignation.
"Sorry," Yoon-ah mumbled, already sliding out of the booth. "I have to take this."
As she hurried toward the cafe door, phone pressed to her ear, I watched the scene crystallize. The loyal, overworked secretary.
The kind second lead pining in silence. The sharp best friend seeing all the cracks. And the 'boyfriend' whose silence was louder than any ringtone.
'I have to go, too,' I thought. The dinner. The battlefield.
I left enough money on the table to cover the waffle and a hefty tip, shoved my notebook into my bag, and slipped out the door just as Lee Yoon-ah's voice, saying "Yes, Sir, I'll have the files ready," was swallowed by the city sounds.
I had a family gathering to survive tonight. And now, I had a new, burning objective forming in my mind: that bastard Minhyuk had just moved to the top of my unofficial "To-Do" list.