A few months later...
The bakery smelled like warm butter and passive-aggressive tension.
"I told you to score the bread diagonally," Jun-seo said, hands on hips.
Kwang-su didn't even look up from the tray. "I did. This is diagonal. In the modern sense."
"That is a crooked slash of chaos. It's not a baguette. It's a bread crime."
Kwang-su turned around slowly, raising a floury eyebrow. "Well, Officer Jun-seo, arrest me. But first, kiss me. I want one last taste of freedom."
Jun-seo blushed, huffing. "Stop trying to be cute when you're obviously guilty."
"I'm always cute when I'm guilty. Especially when you're watching."
Jun-seo tried not to smile. He failed. Again.
They were mid-simmering eye contact—equal parts argument, equal parts attraction—when the bell over the door rang.
In stepped Haeun, all bright eyes and village charm, holding a basket of eggs.
"Oh—hi!" she chirped, glancing between them. "Mr. Seung told me to drop these off?"
Jun-seo stepped forward with his usual stiff politeness, but Kwang-su smiled casually, brushing flour off his apron.
"Thanks," he said. "I'm Kwang-su."
Haeun blinked. "Oh, you're the city guy, right? Everyone's been talking about you."
Kwang-su chuckled. "All good things, I hope?"
She laughed. "Well, mostly. They say you're good-looking but terrible at waking up early."
"I plead guilty."
Jun-seo coughed. Loudly. "He's also terrible at folding laundry. And remembering dates. Like anniversaries. Important ones."
Kwang-su shot him a glance. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, babe."
"Babe?" Haeun blinked, confused.
Jun-seo folded his arms. "Yes. Babe. As in boyfriend. As in we've been dating for four months and I've had to deal with this man's tragic snoring the entire time."
Kwang-su grinned. "It's adorable snoring."
Haeun laughed, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Oh! I didn't know. Sorry—I didn't mean to… um…"
"It's okay," Jun-seo said coolly, though he was still eyeing her like she might try to sell Kwang-su black market eggs in exchange for a date.
"Nice meeting you," Kwang-su added with a polite smile.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Jun-seo turned.
"She was into you."
Kwang-su grinned. "You're imagining things. You're just mad because she didn't look at your diagonally slashed baguettes."
"They were artisan cuts!"
"Sure, Picasso."
Jun-seo grabbed a handful of flour and threw it at him. Kwang-su yelped—and retaliated with a whipped cream squirt from the counter. It hit Jun-seo square in the neck.
"Oh, you're dead."
They were mid-flour war when Kwang-su tackled him behind the counter, pinning him with a smug grin.
"You like it when I flirt with you in front of people, admit it."
Jun-seo panted, staring up at him. "I hate it."
"You love it."
"…Maybe."
Kwang-su leaned in. "Say it."
Jun-seo rolled his eyes, grinning. "Fine. I love it. Now kiss me before the oven beeps."
"Already ahead of you."
And he was.
Somewhere in the chaos, a tray of cookies burned again.
But neither of them cared.