The next day, Jihoon found himself in an uncomfortable situation—one that could only be described as an ambush disguised as a casual coffee meetup.
Sitting across from him at a small cafe table was Taeyeon, her arms crossed, her fingers drumming against her elbow in a slow, ominous rhythm. But it wasn't just her posture that made Jihoon uneasy—it was the death stare.
The kind of stare that made him feel like he had just committed high treason. Or worse—like he had cheated on her.
Which, of course, was ridiculous.
But then again, everything had spiraled out of control after one fateful text exchange the night before.
Taeyeon: "Humph!"
Jihoon had just collapsed onto his couch, still riding the aftereffects of recording 'Perhaps Love' with Jessica. It had been a long session, but a successful one. He was about to close his eyes and bask in the well-earned silence when—ping!—his phone lit up with a text.
One glance at the sender's name, and Jihoon instantly knew—probably because of the OST—he had made the mistake of not telling Taeyeon beforehand.
Jihoon: "One-time Hanwoo beef?"
Silence. Then—
Taeyeon: "Humph! Humph!"
Jihoon exhaled, rubbing his temples. Damn it.
Jihoon: "Two-time Hanwoo beef?"
Taeyeon: "Betrayer! You think beef will fix this?!"
Jihoon knew this was serious. He had underestimated the severity of the somewhat 'offense'. There was only one way to end this war before it escalated.
Jihoon: "Three-time Hanwoo… plus next OST?"
The typing bubbles appeared… then disappeared… then appeared again.
Taeyeon: "Call! See you tomorrow!"
Jihoon sighed. Negotiations successful. But at what cost?
Now, back to the present—since the moment they sat down, Taeyeon hadn't uttered a single word. Not a greeting, not a complaint—just pure silence.
Instead, she had opted for something far more effective.
The stare.
Taeyeon's slow, deliberate, soul-crushing gaze drilled into Jihoon with the weight of a thousand unspoken accusations. It wasn't just a stare—it was an execution order.
Her round, bunny-like eyes had transformed into weapons of mass destruction, radiating a level of betrayal that could rival a K-drama finale.
Honestly, if looks could kill, Jihoon would already be six feet under.
At this point, the only thing missing was a wand in her hand and a perfectly timed "Avada Kedavra!" to complete the curse.
Given the way she was glaring at him, Jihoon was pretty sure that if Taeyeon had access to actual magic, he'd already be experiencing a green-lit Game Over.
Jihoon tried to ignore her at first, casually scrolling through his phone. But every time he looked up, there she was—eyes locked onto him like a sniper waiting for the perfect shot.
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
"Okay, I can't take this anymore."
Jihoon finally set his phone down with a sigh. "You know," he said, breaking the silence, "if I keep letting you sing my OSTs, Mr. Lee is going to think I'm courting you."
Taeyeon, who had been prepared to continue her silent torture, froze.
Her ears turned pink. Then, in record time, her expression morphed into a mix of embarrassment and rage.
"W-What?!" she sputtered, nearly knocking over her iced Americano. "Who said—who even thinks that?! That's ridiculous!"
Jihoon shrugged, reaching for his coffee. "I don't know. Maybe the people who keep seeing us together? Maybe the staff at SM? Maybe…" He smirked. "Mr. Lee himself?"
Taeyeon opened her mouth—then shut it. Her blush deepened. "You—" she huffed. "You're just messing with me."
Jihoon took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her reaction with amusement. "Am I?"
Her glare sharpened again, but now there was a hint of panic. She knew there was some truth in his words. The thought alone made her face heat up more.
"You're so annoying," she muttered, stabbing her straw into her drink aggressively.
Jihoon smirked. "And yet, here we are."
Another huff. Another glare. Another humph.
Then, finally, Taeyeon grabbed her drink, took the loudest, most obnoxious sip humanly possible, and slurped it—delivering what she believed to be the grand finale of her aggressive confrontation.
Jihoon sat there, the lone spectator to Taeyeon's dramatic performance, his expression blank with exhaustion. He knew she was just putting on a show for fun. At this point, resisting her antics was pointless—he had long given up on resisting her antics.
As he watched, a song popped into his head, perfectly fitting the scenario.
"It's not like you're an actress, so don't arrange this sort of plot."
"I've no opinion, I'm just here to see how you'll act it out."
"Your sadness is too obvious, like an unconvincing actress."
"The audience can see through it right away."
If there were an award for the most dramatic display of passive-aggressiveness, Taeyeon would have won without competition.
If Jihoon had a flower to throw in recognition of her dedication to the act, he would have gladly tossed it—preferably at her face.
But reality was harsh. Instead of giving in to his pettiness, he sighed, rubbed his temples, and reminded himself—patience, Jihoon. Just patience.
And with that, Taeyeon's cafe drama came to an end, only for the next scene to begin.
Now, they were at a high-end Hanwoo restaurant—the kind where even stepping inside felt expensive. The air itself probably had a price tag.
This was the type of place where normal people hesitated at the entrance, checking their wallets before daring to walk in.
A place where the menu had no prices because, if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.
Jihoon, of course, had money. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that deep down, he still had the instincts of someone who once lived on budget meals and discount coupons in the previous life.
So when Taeyeon took the menu from the waitress, he already had a bad feeling. And then—
"I'll have the premium Hanwoo ribeye, the sirloin, the tenderloin, oh! And the chef's special Hanwoo steak platter…"
"Ah, let's also add the Hanwoo tartare as an appetizer."
Jihoon nearly choked on air.
He could practically hear his bank account crying. Somewhere in the distance, an imaginary stock market crashed. His soul briefly left his body, hovering above the table in silent despair.
Taeyeon, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease, as if she were just ordering from a fast-food menu. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction—she had won.
The waitress, clearly used to seeing men suffer in this exact scenario, simply nodded and took down the order without a second thought.
Jihoon gripped the table like a man about to face his doom. Whether it was a panic attack or cardiac arrest, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that by the time the bill arrived, he might need medical attention.
Now the feast had begun.
Jihoon sat there, his soul slowly leaving his body, chewing his overpriced Hanwoo beef with the lifeless expression of a man questioning every decision that had led him to this exact moment.
Across from him, Taeyeon? Oh, she was in absolute paradise.
Blissfully devouring beef at an inhuman speed, one chopstickful at a time, like a well-oiled eating machine that had been programmed to consume premium-grade meat with maximum efficiency.
The worst part? She didn't even look guilty about it. Not even a little.
Jihoon sighed internally. He was watching his wallet evaporate in real time.
It wasn't until she slowed down—just slightly—that she finally broke the silence.
Her voice was casual, almost too casual, as if the mountain of premium beef she had just inhaled had completely erased her earlier anger.
"Hey, Jihoon, you've been resting for months now. When do you plan to start filming again?"
Jihoon, still chewing with a deep ache in his heart (and wallet), answered with all the energy of a man whose spirit had been drained by the bill alone.
"Soon… just have to wait for Jongbin hyung's film to wrap up before I start mine."
Taeyeon hummed in understanding, her chopsticks still actively working as if they had their own personal mission.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she perked up. "Oh, right—what about Yoona? Did you include her in the new movie?"
Jihoon barely had time to react before Taeyeon's demeanor shifted dramatically.
She bit into her meat with exaggerated force, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him like a mafia boss about to order a hit.
"You better not be telling me you didn't. She's been expecting this all this while!"
Jihoon rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "Please… Have I ever lied to you?"
Taeyeon raised a brow, unimpressed.
"Okay, let me rephrase that," Jihoon quickly corrected himself. "Have I ever lied to you about something that actually mattered?"
She still wasn't convinced, so he sighed and continued. "I already included her in the new movie."
"Not only that, I even adjusted the script to match her natural personality and attitude."
"That way, she has a much better chance during the audition."
Taeyeon paused, chopsticks mid-air, before giving a satisfied nod. "Hmm. Good. At least you're not completely useless."
Jihoon exhaled. He had dodged a bullet. But at what cost?
As if sensing his momentary relief, Taeyeon casually waved the waitress over again.
Jihoon's heart rate spiked.
She flipped through the menu with an air of someone about to make an important decision. "Oh, right! We should definitely get some more side dishes. And let's order the special Hanwoo Cold-noodle—it's supposed to be amazing here."
Jihoon nearly choked on his own spit. "Again? You've already eaten enough beef to feed a small village!"
Taeyeon blinked at him innocently. "And? The meal isn't complete without the full experience—especially without finishing it off with a refreshing, ice-cold noodle, Jihoon."
Jihoon clenched his jaw. "You are the full experience."
Taeyeon smirked. "Flattery won't get you out of paying."
He groaned, rubbing his temples as the waitress took down the new order.
Jihoon glanced at the table filled with disappearing meat.
Oh right—his dignity, his sanity, and a hefty chunk of his bank account.
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe and Daoist098135 for bestowing the power stone!]