I should have known today would be a disaster when I woke up to my alarm blaring at six in the morning instead of seven. I'd set it wrong. Again.

"Hana, you're going to be late!" Soyeon's voice pierced through my bedroom door, followed by aggressive knocking that made my whole body jolt awake.

I scrambled out of bed, my feet tangling in the blanket until I nearly face-planted on the floor. Nearly. I caught myself on the edge of my nightstand, sending my phone clattering to the ground. The screen protector cracked. Of course it did.

"I'm up! I'm up!" I shouted back, grabbing the first clothes I could find in my closet.

Twenty minutes later, I was running through the streets of Hongdae with my hair barely brushed and my shirt probably on backwards. The interview was in Gangnam, which meant I needed to catch the subway in exactly three minutes or I'd be late. And being late to a job interview at one of Seoul's most prestigious architecture firms was not an option.

Not when I'd already been rejected from twelve other companies this month.

My worn sneakers slapped against the pavement as I dodged between early morning commuters and street vendors setting up their stalls. The autumn air bit at my cheeks, but sweat was already forming on my forehead. I could see the subway entrance ahead, just past the corner coffee shop that always smelled like heaven.

I was going to make it. I was actually going to make it.

That's when I saw him.

He was standing outside the coffee shop, looking down at his phone with an expression that could freeze fire. Tall, probably over six feet, wearing a black suit that looked like it cost more than my entire year's rent. His hair was perfectly styled, dark and sleek, and even from a distance, I could tell he was the kind of person who never ran late, never tripped, never had coffee stains on their clothes.

The kind of person I'd never be.

I should have been watching where I was going. I really should have. But my bag strap chose that exact moment to slip off my shoulder, and when I reached back to catch it, my foot caught on an uneven piece of sidewalk.

Time slowed down in that horrible way it does when you know something terrible is about to happen and you can't stop it.

I stumbled forward, arms flailing like a baby bird trying to fly. My portfolio folder went flying, papers scattering into the morning breeze. And I crashed directly into the man in the expensive suit.

We collided with enough force that he actually stumbled back a step. His phone clattered to the ground. His coffee oh god, his coffee splashed across both of us, the hot liquid seeping through my shirt and probably ruining his suit jacket.

For a moment, neither of us moved. I was pressed against his chest, my hands somehow gripping his jacket lapels, my face approximately two inches from his very expensive-looking tie. I could smell his cologne, something sophisticated and woody that probably had a French name I couldn't pronounce.

"I'm so sorry!" The words tumbled out of my mouth in a panic. I pushed myself back, nearly tripping again in the process. "I'm so, so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going, and my bag, and I'm late, and..."

I finally looked up at his face.

Cold. That was the first word that came to mind. His features were sharp and handsome in a way that belonged on magazine covers, but his dark eyes held absolutely no warmth. His jaw was clenched tight, and a muscle twitched near his temple as he looked down at the coffee stain spreading across his pristine white shirt.

"Do you make a habit of assaulting people on the street?" His voice was deep and measured, each word precisely articulated.

"I didn't assault you! I fell!" My voice came out higher than intended. "And I said I'm sorry!"

He bent down to pick up his phone, checking it for damage with the kind of care someone might use with a newborn baby. Then his eyes landed on my scattered papers, now decorating the sidewalk in a chaotic mess of design sketches and resume copies.

"You should be more careful," he said, his tone suggesting he'd already dismissed me from his thoughts entirely.

Something about his attitude made my embarrassment shift into irritation. Yes, I'd crashed into him. Yes, I'd ruined his coffee and his suit. But I'd apologized. Multiple times. And he was looking at me like I was some kind of pest that had inconvenienced his perfect morning.

"You should be less judgmental," I shot back before I could stop myself. "Accidents happen."

His eyebrows rose slightly, the first sign of any emotion other than cold disdain. "Accidents happen to people who don't pay attention."

"I was paying attention! The sidewalk is uneven!"

"The sidewalk has been uneven for three years. Perhaps you should familiarize yourself with your surroundings."

I stared at him, mouth slightly open. Who talked like that? Who was this uptight, condescending, ridiculously handsome jerk?

My phone buzzed in my pocket. The time flashed across the screen, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

The interview. I had fifteen minutes to get to Gangnam.

"I have to go," I muttered, dropping to my knees to gather my papers as quickly as possible. Some had coffee stains on them now. Perfect. Just perfect.

To my surprise, the man crouched down and started helping me collect the scattered sheets. His movements were efficient and precise, organizing them into a neat stack even as he handed them back to me.

Our fingers brushed as he passed me the last paper, and I felt an unexpected jolt of electricity run up my arm.

"Your portfolio," he said, his tone slightly less arctic. "Interior design?"

"Yes." I clutched the papers to my chest, trying to shield them from any further disaster. "I have an interview. Which I'm now definitely going to be late for, so thank you for that."

I didn't wait for his response. I couldn't. I shoved the papers back into my folder, grabbed my bag, and took off running toward the subway entrance.

Behind me, I thought I heard him say something, but I didn't stop to listen. I had exactly thirteen minutes to get across Seoul and somehow make a good impression while covered in coffee and looking like I'd just survived a hurricane.

As I disappeared down the subway steps, I glanced back one more time.

The man was still standing there, watching me go with an expression I couldn't quite read.

I shook my head and kept running. I'd never see him again anyway. At least, that's what I thought.

End of Chapter 1

I made it to Gangnam with exactly two minutes to spare.

The building that housed Minho Architecture & Design was everything I expected and more. Glass and steel reached toward the sky in a design that was both modern and elegant, the kind of structure that made you feel small and insignificant just by standing near it. Through the massive windows, I could see the lobby all marble floors and minimalist furniture that probably cost more than my college tuition.

I caught my reflection in the glass door and wanted to cry.

My hair looked like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket. The coffee stain on my shirt had spread into a large brown blob that no amount of strategic bag-positioning could hide. My makeup, what little I'd managed to apply while running, was smudged under one eye, giving me a slightly deranged look.

This was it. This was how my career would end before it even started.

"You can do this, Hana," I whispered to myself, straightening my shoulders. "You've worked too hard to give up now."

The lobby was even more intimidating on the inside. My sneakers squeaked against the polished marble as I approached the reception desk, where a woman with perfect hair and a perfect suit looked up at me with barely concealed horror.

"Can I help you?" Her tone suggested she'd rather do literally anything else.

"I have an interview at nine o'clock. Lee Hana. For the junior interior designer position."

She typed something into her computer, her perfectly manicured nails clicking against the keys. "Ninth floor. Conference room B. You're..." she glanced at the clock on the wall, "two minutes late."

"I know, I had an accident on the way here, and..."

"Ninth floor," she repeated, already looking past me to the next person entering the lobby.

I hurried to the elevator, pressing the button about fifteen times as if that would make it arrive faster. When the doors finally opened, I stepped inside and caught sight of myself in the mirrored walls.

Definitely worse than I thought.

I tried to smooth down my hair, wiped at the smudged makeup, and attempted to position my bag to cover the worst of the coffee stain. It didn't help much, but it was better than nothing.

The elevator dinged at the ninth floor, and the doors opened to reveal a sleek hallway with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side. I could see all of Seoul spread out below, the morning sun glinting off countless buildings. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Conference room B was at the end of the hall. Through the glass walls, I could see three people sitting around a large table, waiting. My stomach twisted into knots.

I knocked softly before entering.

"Ms. Lee, please come in." A woman in her early thirties with short hair and sharp eyes gestured to the empty chair across from them. "I'm Choi Jiwon, head of design operations."

"I'm so sorry I'm late," I said, bowing deeply as I entered. "There was an incident on the way here, and..."

"Please, sit." Her expression was neutral, giving nothing away.

I sat down carefully, placing my portfolio folder on the table in front of me. The two other people at the table introduced themselves Park Minseok from human resources and Kim Yuna from the interior design department. They seemed nice enough, though both of them glanced at the coffee stain on my shirt with barely hidden curiosity.

"Before we begin," Jiwon said, opening a folder in front of her, "I want to apologize that our CEO won't be joining us today. He had an unexpected... wardrobe situation this morning and needed to change before his ten o'clock meeting."

Something about those words made my stomach drop, but I couldn't figure out why.

"Now, let's start with your portfolio. I see you graduated from Hongik University with a focus on sustainable interior design?"

I nodded, trying to push away the weird feeling of dread. "Yes, I'm particularly interested in how we can create beautiful spaces that also minimize environmental impact. I believe that"

I opened my portfolio folder, and my heart stopped.

The papers inside were a disaster. Coffee stains covered at least half of them. My carefully organized design sketches were out of order, crumpled at the edges. One of my best renderings had a footprint on it probably from when I'd scrambled to pick everything up off the sidewalk.

"I... um..." My face burned with embarrassment. "There was an accident this morning. I crashed into someone and spilled coffee everywhere, and my papers went flying, and..."

"Take your time," Yuna said kindly, though I could see the doubt forming in her eyes.

I tried to salvage what I could, pulling out the least damaged pieces and arranging them on the table. My hands were shaking. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.

"This is one of my projects from my final year," I said, pointing to a sketch that was only half coffee-stained. "It was a redesign of a traditional hanok, incorporating modern sustainable elements while maintaining the cultural integrity of the space."

Jiwon leaned forward, studying the sketch with interest. "The concept is solid, but the execution seems..." she paused, searching for the right word, "incomplete."

"That's just the preliminary sketch. I have the full rendering in here somewhere." I flipped through more papers, my panic growing with each coffee-stained sheet.

The interview continued for another twenty minutes, but I could feel it slipping away from me with each passing second. Every answer I gave felt wrong. Every design choice I'd made suddenly seemed amateurish under their scrutiny. The coffee stain on my shirt seemed to grow larger, more obvious, more unprofessional.

When it was finally over, Jiwon stood and extended her hand. "Thank you for coming in, Ms. Lee. We have several more candidates to interview, but we'll be in touch within the week."

That was code for "don't call us, we'll call you," which was code for "you definitely didn't get the job."

I bowed to all three of them, mumbling my thanks, and practically fled from the conference room.

The elevator ride down felt like a descent into failure. I'd worked so hard for this opportunity. I'd spent weeks preparing my portfolio, researching the company, practicing my answers to potential questions. And it had all fallen apart because I couldn't watch where I was walking.

Because of him. That cold, judgmental man in the expensive suit who couldn't even pretend to be understanding about an accident.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't watch where I was going when the elevator doors opened. I stepped forward and immediately collided with someone entering the lobby.

"I'm sorry!" I said automatically, looking up.

And froze.

It was him. The man from the coffee shop. Standing in the lobby of Minho Architecture & Design, wearing a fresh suit that probably cost as much as a small car. His dark eyes widened slightly in recognition before his expression returned to that same cold mask.

"You," he said, his voice flat.

"You," I echoed, my mind racing. What was he doing here? Did he work here? Was he a client?

Please don't let him be someone important, I prayed silently.

He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on the coffee stain his coffee on my shirt. Then, without another word, he stepped around me and headed toward the elevator.

I stood there, frozen, until Soyeon's call broke through my shock.

"How did it go?" her cheerful voice asked through the phone.

I watched the elevator doors close on the mysterious man's unreadable expression.

"It was a disaster," I whispered. "An absolute disaster."

End of Chapter 2