Soo-min finally said goodbye to Seong-ho, giving him a polite little wave before stepping out of the bakery. The bell above the door jingled softly behind her as she walked away.
The late morning sun was warm on her skin, but her thoughts were anything but calm.
She started wandering down the street, letting her feet take her wherever they wanted. The neighborhood was peaceful, almost picturesque—clean sidewalks, neatly trimmed bushes, a few kids riding their bikes in the distance.
But none of it felt familiar.
"This doesn't look like any part of Korea I know…" she muttered to herself, eyes scanning the rows of cozy buildings and quiet cafés.
It was weird. Everything looked Korean. Everyone spoke Korean. The signs, the ads on the bus stops, the shop names—everything was in hangul. But somehow, the vibe… the energy of this place felt different. Like she'd stepped into a dream version of her own world.
Was this still Seoul? Or somewhere else entirely?
Her heart thumped uneasily.
Are we just… forgetting everything?
That thought had been bothering her since this morning, but now it was starting to feel like the only explanation that made any sense.
What if this is amnesia? Like some weird, selective memory loss? Maybe we hit our heads or something…
She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the sky. It was a clear, beautiful blue.
But her chest still felt heavy.
Because no matter how calm this place looked, the questions swirling in her mind weren't getting any quieter.
After walking for a while, Soo-min finally sat down on a bench near a small park. The gentle breeze helped clear her thoughts a little, but her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything since morning.
She pulled out her phone and opened the contacts. Without thinking much, she tapped on the contact that had a heart emoji next to the name:
"Choi Minjae ❤️"
The second she realized what she had just done, she froze.
"…Ugh." A shiver ran down her spine. The heart icon made her feel strangely uncomfortable now.
Sure, Ji-hoon had been her favorite actor. She'd followed his career for years—watched his dramas, his interviews, even his cooking show. But ever since they got stuck in this bizarre reality, and she actually met him as a person… everything changed.
He wasn't the gentle, charming guy on TV. He was cold. Harsh. Distant.
And maybe he had his reasons—but still, it was enough to make her lose the admiration she used to hold so tightly.
The phone buzzed as the call connected.
"Hello?" Ji-hoon's voice came through, low and bored, like always.
"Hey… have you reached the apartment?" Soo-min asked.
"Yeah, just got in. Why?"
"I was thinking… if you're already there, could you check if we have anything to eat? I'm starving."
There was a pause. Then a sharp clunk—probably the sound of the fridge door opening.
"Empty," Ji-hoon said flatly. "Literally nothing. Not even leftover rice."
"Seriously?" Soo-min groaned. "This 'married couple' really doesn't know how to stock a fridge."
"Guess not," Ji-hoon replied dryly.
As Soo-min sat in silence, something clicked in her mind.
"Wait… of course the fridge is empty," she mumbled to herself. "They just got back from their honeymoon."
It actually made sense now. If she and Ji-hoon—well, Choi Minjae and Seo Yura—had only recently returned, maybe they had cleaned out the fridge before leaving. No wonder it was empty.
She looked around and spotted a small convenience store just across the street. With a sigh, she stood up and headed over.
The bell chimed softly as she entered. The place was quiet, shelves packed neatly with all the usual snacks and instant food. For a second, it felt like a piece of familiar Korea… until she remembered she had no idea where this place really was.
She grabbed a basket and quickly picked out what she needed—two instant ramen cups, a pack of eggs, sausages, sliced cheese, and roasted seaweed. Enough for a simple comfort meal.
Maybe food would help clear her head. Maybe cooking would make her feel a bit more like herself again… whoever that was now.
_____
Ji-hoon was lying on the couch, flipping through channels with the remote in one hand and a cushion tucked under his chin. Nothing good on—just some random sitcom reruns and an overly dramatic reality show.
He wasn't really watching, though. His mind was still spinning from everything that had happened. This weird apartment. The fake marriage. The bakery guy. Soo-min.
And just when his brain was about to melt from overthinking, his phone buzzed.
The screen lit up with a name that made him freeze.
"My beloved wife 💕"
Ji-hoon blinked. Then snorted out a laugh.
"Seriously?" he muttered. "Who the hell saves someone like that?"
Still chuckling, he picked up the call.
"Yo," he said casually.
"Hey… are you at the apartment now?" Soo-min's voice came through. She sounded a little out of breath.
"Yeah, just got in."
———
After hanging up the call with Soo-min, Ji-hoon wandered into what looked like a home office. It was clean, almost too clean—like no one had actually used it in a while. Still, the setup was impressive: a sleek monitor, wireless keyboard, and even a whiteboard hanging neatly on one side of the room.
He sat down at the desk, turned on the computer, and waited. No password. Typical.
The desktop loaded quickly, and what greeted him was… extremely boring. Folders labeled "Q2 Budget," "Client Reports," "Market Forecast." Ji-hoon groaned.
"Finance consultant, huh? Definitely not my past life," he muttered.
Still, he clicked through everything he could. If he was going to play house as Choi Minjae, he needed to know who the guy actually was. He opened the browser—bingo. There were bookmarked sites for financial news, a few company login pages, and even a personal calendar.
Ji-hoon grabbed a marker from the side of the whiteboard and started jotting down things as he went:
Name: Choi Minjae
Job: International Finance Consultant
Company: CapitalBridge (something-something Global)
Office: 17th floor, Tower B, Seoul Central Business District
Meetings this week: All canceled
He sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Guess Minjae's living a pretty strict office life."
Then he picked up the guy's phone—his phone—and started digging there too. There were work group chats, messages from someone named "Director Han," and a few reminders to pick up dry cleaning. Very domestic. Very boring.
But the weirdest thing? Not a single selfie. No personal photos at all, aside from wedding pics with Soo-min. Or… Seo Yura, technically.
"Who are you people?" Ji-hoon mumbled, tapping the screen thoughtfully.
He wrote more notes on the board, circling both names at the center.
Choi Minjae ↔ Seo Yura
It was like putting together a puzzle. A really annoying, confusing, possibly cursed puzzle.
_____
Soo-min finally arrived at the apartment, carrying two plastic bags in her hands. She opened the door and stepped inside, greeted by the faint scent of something familiar—maybe the laundry detergent, or just the general Ji-hoon-ness of the place.
Ji-hoon was still in the workspace, surrounded by notes and scribbles on the whiteboard. He glanced at her, barely lifting his head.
"I grabbed some groceries," Soo-min said, lifting the bags. "Found a little convenience store down the street."
Ji-hoon nodded. "Good. I gave up after staring at our sad, empty fridge."
Soo-min moved to the kitchen and started prepping the ramen. She boiled water, cracked two eggs, sliced up the sausages, and sprinkled cheese over the bubbling noodles. The smell of spicy broth slowly filled the air.
When everything was ready, she leaned on the doorway and called out to Ji-hoon with a tiny smirk.
"Wanna eat ramen with me?"
Ji-hoon turned to look at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. There was a pause—just long enough for the meaning of the phrase to sink in.
He scoffed. "You actually mean ramen, right? Not, like... ramen-ramen?"
Soo-min rolled her eyes. "Relax. I'm not that into you."
Ji-hoon chuckled as he got up from his chair. "Good. You're not my type either."
They sat down at the tiny dining table, each with a steaming bowl of noodles.
They ate in silence for a while, the only sound in the apartment was the quiet slurp of noodles and the occasional clink of chopsticks against the bowls.
After a few minutes, Ji-hoon leaned back in his chair, staring at Soo-min like he was about to drop some kind of bomb.
"I found a few things while you were out," he said, tapping his fingers on the table. "I've been digging through Choi Minjae's work laptop and his phone."
Soo-min looked up from her bowl. "And?"
"Apparently, he's a finance consultant for a company called CapitalBridge... something-something Global." Ji-hoon waved his hand like the rest of the name didn't matter.
Soo-min blinked. "Wait—'something-something'?"
"Yeah. I didn't care enough to remember the full thing," Ji-hoon said, deadpan. "It's some international company. Looks legit, though. Lots of spreadsheets, meetings, corporate jargon. Basically hell on earth."
Soo-min laughed under her breath.
He continued, "And you—or I guess, Seo Yura—runs a bakery just a few blocks away. Cloudy Crumbs Bakery. We've been there. I found receipts, schedules, social media posts, even some online reviews. People love your... her... whatever—your sea salt caramel buns."
"Sounds like I'm talented in this universe," Soo-min muttered, raising an eyebrow.
"You're welcome."
Soo-min grinned. "So that's what you were doing in that room all day?"
Ji-hoon nodded, growing a bit more serious. "I also found a few emails and chat between them... us... talking about planning our honeymoon. There's even a shared folder with photos from Thailand. Beach selfies, resort dinners... it's weird. Like, really weird."
Soo-min went quiet for a second, processing it.
"So we're not just married," she said slowly. "We're... happily married?"
Ji-hoon tilted his head. "Seems like it."
Soo-min's gaze dropped to her noodles again, stirring them absentmindedly. "But if we're such a perfect couple... why don't we remember any of it?"
That question hung in the air for a while, unanswered.