Seoul mornings were usually peaceful.
Birds chirped on telephone wires, old shop owners rolled up their shutters, and the smell of fresh coffee floated from cozy street cafés. The city moved in perfect harmony — calm, collected, and wonderfully ordinary.
Until Yerin woke up.
Because when she did… peace packed its bags, booked a ticket, and fled Seoul.
Besides this
If sunshine had a human form — it would probably trip over its own shoelaces, spill coffee on its shirt, apologize to the cup, and still smile about it.That's Yerin Han, a twenty-four-year-old veterinarian from Seoul, whose heart is big enough to heal every stray animal in the city — and chaotic enough to destroy her own peace in the process.
Yerin is petite — the kind of short that makes her constantly argue with shelves and door handles. Her long, silky hair, usually tied with cute pastel bands, has a habit of falling across her light brown eyes — which sparkle like melted honey when she's excited (which is… always).Sometimes, she wears round glasses that give her an adorably nerdy charm — the kind that makes even angry clients soften mid-scolding.
Bubbly. Sassy. Wildly expressive.Yerin is a walking contradiction of clumsy chaos and golden-hearted warmth. She can talk to anyone, from grumpy grandpas to grumpier cats, and somehow make them smile.
Her tongue, however, has no filter.If she doesn't like someone — especially rich, arrogant men with zero empathy — she'll say it straight to their perfectly sculpted faces. She calls them "walking bank accounts with no hearts."
But beneath her sass is a soul that's soft. She loves deeply, forgives easily, and dreams endlessly.
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The sound of a scooter engine coughed to life in the narrow streets of Gangnam.A flash of pink zipped through the morning crowd — a tiny scooty wobbling between cars and street vendors, the driver's helmet slightly crooked, and a slice of toast dangling from her mouth like an Olympic medal.
"Okay, Yerin. No chaos today," she muttered through her toast, her voice slightly muffled. "No drama. No accidents. Just a calm, graceful day — like a normal adult."
Her bag — stuffed with files, a stethoscope, and a half-eaten banana — swung dangerously from her shoulder. A cat-shaped keychain clinked against her scooty handle as she zoomed past a row of fruit stalls.
She took a sharp turn, nearly hitting a streetlight. "Okay, maybe slightly less graceful," she said, correcting her balance. "But still calm!"
The morning breeze brushed her cheeks as she sped down the lane toward her workplace — "Paw Wow Veterinary Hospital", a small but lively clinic tucked behind a flower shop.
Her phone buzzed inside her pocket. She fished it out while driving (terrible idea, by the way).
"Hello?" she said, balancing between traffic and toast.
"Yerin, where are you?" a familiar voice scolded — it was her senior vet nurse, Hana."Dr. Min's already here, and your 9 AM appointment's waiting. The cat that bit you last week."
"Oh, Mr. Snuggles?" Yerin grinned nervously. "He loves me!"
"He tried to eat your finger, Yerin."
"Love comes in many forms, Hana," Yerin replied dramatically.
A honk blared behind her. She turned to yell, "Calm down, mister, I'm going fast enough—" and nearly collided with a newspaper boy's cart.
"Oops! Sorry! My bad!" she called over her shoulder, waving apologetically.
She sighed, her cheeks puffing. "This city needs more chill. Everyone's so… uptight."
Yerin took another turn, slowing down as she noticed a group of little kids standing near the sidewalk, blowing soap bubbles into the sunlight. The colorful spheres floated up, catching the morning rays and shimmering like tiny rainbows.
Yerin's heart instantly softened."Aww, look at them! So cute!" she squealed, slowing her scooty to watch. "One day, I'm totally adopting ten kids and teaching them how to—Wooo Aaah"
SCREEEECHHHHH! CRUNCH!
Her words died in her throat. The world froze.
The kids stopped blowing bubbles. The pigeons scattered. Yerin turned her head slowly — and there it was.
A black Mercedes-Benz S-Class, gleaming like a black diamond under the Seoul sun… now decorated with a long, painful scratch across its perfect door.
Yerin blinked. Once. Twice."...That didn't just happen."
She leaned forward, squinting at the scratch, through round glasses ."Oh my bubble tea… that did happen!"
Her toast fell from her mouth."My life is officially over. Goodbye, world. It was nice knowing you."
She looked around — no one seemed to notice yet. Relief flooded her face.
"Okay, calm down, Yerin. You're a responsible adult," she whispered, placing a hand on her chest. "You can fix this. You can—"
Meanwhile, in the car, the temperature dropped by ten degrees.
The owner dressed in a black suit, sat in the back seat, scrolling through his phone. His face was unreadable—sharp jawline, calm eyes, and an aura that screamed power.
The driver flinched at the sound."Sir, I think someone—"
didn't even look up."Stop the car," he said, voice low and smooth, the kind that made people obey before they even realized it.
The driver parked silently.
Owner's gaze lifted from the screen, cold and assessing.
Yerin's heartbeat raced faster than her scooty could ever go."Okay, think, Yerin! You can fix this! Maybe… maybe if I just color it with black marker?" She paused, horrified at her own thought. "No, stupid! It's a Mercedes, not your school project!"
Panic rose like a tidal wave.
Then she heard it.
The car door clicks.
Her soul left her body.
"The owner…" she whispered. "The scary rich owner!"
She frantically opened her scooty's storage box, rummaging through random junk—lip balm, Band-Aids, a crumpled biscuit packet, and a long printed scarf.
And that's when she had her brilliant idea.
" Pretend this never happened."
Her fight-or-flight response kicked in—mostly flight.
She rummaged through her scooty's compartment, mumbling, "Disguise, disguise…" until she pulled out a long scarf.
In seconds, she had wrapped it around her head, face, and neck—leaving only her eyes visible.
From bubbly girl to discount Egyptian mummy, in ten seconds flat.
"Step one: Disguise. Step two: Escape. Step three: Never speak of this again," she muttered to herself, trying to back her scooty away as quietly as possible
But it was the driver who came out
"Excuse me, Miss!" the driver called out, walking toward her. "Did you just scratch this car?"
Yerin froze mid-step and slowly turned, trying to sound confident." Scratch? What scratch? I don't see any scratch!"
The driver pointed directly at the deep white line across the black door.
The mummy blinked. Then smiled awkwardly." Oh, that scratch! Yeah, I think it was already there. Maybe from…um... uh… wild cats?"
"Wild cats?" the driver repeated, unimpressed.
"Yes!" she said, nodding rapidly. "Seoul has a lot of them! They roam the streets at night. Very aggressive claws. Dangerous creatures.
The driver looked utterly done. "Miss, this car belongs to—"
"who?" , "who?" yerin repeated , I don't when people brag about their money and power
And
"I don't want to know," she interrupted, her voice clipped, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. "Just go sit and drive."
The man hesitated, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "But, miss—"
She turned to him sharply, her tone firm but weary. "I said drive. I'm not interested in whoever thinks they own the world just because they have a few zeroes in their bank account."
The driver's mouth opened, then closed again. He'd seen all kinds of women, but not many who dared touch that car, much less talk like that about him.
She crossed her hand against her chest, she muttered under her breath, "Rich men think everything can be bought—loyalty, love, even people. But they don't have hearts, only contracts and conditions."
The driver swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel pity or fear for her.
Because if she hated rich men this much… she was about to walk straight into the lion's den.
And that lion's name wasJeon Jungkook.