Chapter 5 Well,well,well, we meet again.

Incheon International Airport buzzed with voices and flashing signs, but all Naila could focus on was finding one person.

Then-there she was.

Kiki stood near Arrivals in a ridiculous hot pink coat, waving a glittery sign that read:

"Chef Bae Reporting for Duty!"

Naila groaned and laughed. "You're still extra."

Kiki grinned and crushed her in a hug. "You made it! Look at you, straight out of a drama!"

They grabbed her bags and headed for the car. Seoul swept by outside-fast, bright, alive. It was overwhelming, but Kiki kept her grounded.

"You good?" she asked.

"Mostly nervous. Slightly jet-lagged. Fully suspicious."

"Suspicious?"

Kiki just smiled. "You'll see."

An hour later

The car pulled through high security gates, past hedges that looked hand-measured, and stopped in front of a sleek, black-glass estate.

Naila's mouth fell open. "Okay. What is this, the lair of a billionaire vampire?"

"Possibly. Don't quote me."

They stepped out, and Kiki led the way through the double doors. Naila followed, clutching her tote bag and soft pink lunchbox. As they crossed the entry into the grand sitting room-

-she set the lunchbox down on a small glass console table near the couch, just for a moment.

Trying to recess the scene which made her think that,

The house was too much to take in: marble floors, cold air, silence. Too clean. Too perfect. For a family which contains children to be living here.

Naila looked around, already frowning. "Where's the family?"

Kiki winced. "Okay... small update."

"Kiki."

"I didn't technically lie. I just didn't clarify."

"Clarify what?"

"That it's not a family. It's just one person. A guy. A very rich, very private guy."

Naila stopped cold. "You said family, when we talk to later, during the night"

"You wouldn't have come otherwise," Kiki admitted. "But I swear-he needs help. You're the best for this."

"You flew me across the world to cook for a random man?"

Before Kiki could respond, a cool, deep voice cut through the space above them.

"I wouldn't say random. Well,well,well we meet again."

Naila looked up.

And froze.

It was him.

Dressed in all black, standing at the top of the staircase like a perfectly sculpted threat. That same unreadable expression.

Her mouth fell open. "You live here?"

He descended slowly, each step controlled. "Unfortunately, yes. And I requested a chef, not a debate team."

"I didn't come here to make enemies, but life happens," she muttered.

He reached the bottom step, eyes cold. "I don't want her as the chef."

Kiki stepped forward quickly. "You have an event in a week. Your old chef bailed. She's all I've got-and she's better than you deserve."

"I'll pass."

"I'll cook you dinner," Naila snapped, her voice low but steady. "One meal. Then you can decide."

He didn't answer. Just turned and walked down the hall.

Naila blew out a breath. "I need five minutes. Just five to process the fact that I'm not here for a sweet Korean grandma but for Mr. Brooding McBillionaire."

Kiki rubbed her temple. "It'll be fine. I'll talk to him."

They gathered Naila's bags and left the sitting room, heading toward the guest quarters.

Neither of them noticed the small pink lunchbox still sitting on the console table.

---

Later that night

He walked back through the sitting room on his way to his study. The house was quiet-his kind of quiet. No footsteps, no noise. Controlled.

Then something out of place caught his eye.

A small container.

Pink. Soft-sided. Labeled in sharp black ink:

"Lunch-Don't Touch (unless your name is Naila)"

His brow twitched.

Ridiculous handwriting. Bold statement.

He almost left it-but something about the scent stopped him. Faint traces of spice and sweetness drifted from the edges.

Curiosity won.

He popped the lid open.

Aroma flooded out instantly-rich, honeyed steam rising from glazed chicken, perfectly roasted plantains, and neatly swirled noodles. Each portion carefully divided. Homemade. Intentional. Not showy. Just good.

He stared for a second. Then picked up a fork.

One bite.

It hit like heat and memory.

Spices. Sweetness. Fire.

Balanced. Bold. Beautiful.

He stood there, chewing slowly, caught off guard by how much it reminded him of something he couldn't name.

Still holding the fork, he pulled out his phone.

> Text to Kiki:

She stays.