Jin had a date today.
A blind date — one handpicked by his mother, with the subtlety of a royal decree.
He hated everything about it. The arrangement, the expectation, the performance. But if he didn't go… it would be chaos.
Not just a lecture — no, that would be too kind.
His mother would stage an emotional meltdown worthy of an awards show. His phone would be flooded with "you don't care about your future" texts, and his father would make yet another cold remark about him failing to carry the family legacy.
So, as usual, he said yes.
Not because he wanted to, but because not saying yes had never been an option.
The mansion's corridors echoed with the light pitter-patter of small feet. His eight-year-old sister, Ha-eun, burst into the sitting room like a small storm, full of giggles and dramatic flair.
"I heard you have a blind date today!" she announced, arms folded, chin raised.
Jin barely glanced up from the book he wasn't really reading. "And?"
Ha-eun stuck her tongue out. "Since you're always saying how handsome you are in front of me, I decided to teach you a little lesson."
She grabbed one of his hairbrushes from the table and hid it behind her back.
"You won't find it until you admit I'm the cutest sibling in the world!" she laughed before bolting from the room, her high-pitched giggles echoing down the hallway.
Jin sighed and leaned back in his chair, lips twitching despite himself. She always had a way of disarming him — the one person in the house who never expected anything from him but to play along.
In the corner, unnoticed until now, stood Mian.
She had been arranging fresh flowers in a ceramic vase — one of her many quiet duties in the household — but she had paused to watch the scene.
So he has a date today…
Her eyes drifted to the door where Ha-eun had disappeared, then back to Jin. Despite herself, she smiled softly.
He was softer with his sister than he was with anyone else. It was a side of him few people saw. And Mian… Mian was good at noticing the things people didn't want noticed.
But as always, she quickly folded the thought away and resumed her task.
Then Jin spoke, his voice slightly bored but intentional.
"I want tea. Bring it to my room."
Mian bowed slightly. "Yes, sir."
She knocked gently on his door minutes later, balancing the silver tray.
"Get in," he called from inside.
She stepped in with measured grace, eyes lowered out of habit. "Here is your tea, sir. Would you like anything else?"
Jin took the cup, swirling it idly.
"No," he replied curtly.
Mian bowed again and turned to leave, her steps almost soundless on the wood floor.
But then—
"Wait."
She paused immediately, hand on the door handle.
"Yes, sir?"
There was a strange silence behind her, as though Jin was choosing his words more carefully than usual. When she turned, he wasn't looking at her — not quite.
"I'll be going on that blind date today…" he began, then hesitated, clearing his throat. "Can you… pick something out for me to wear?"
He finally looked up.
It wasn't a command — not in his usual tone. There was no arrogance, no cold detachment. Just… a boy, tired and unsure, asking for help in the only way he knew how.
Mian's eyes widened slightly. She had worked in this household long enough to know that Jin rarely asked for anything — and certainly not like this.
"You… want me to choose something for you?" she asked quietly, stunned.
He gave a slow nod, expression unreadable. "Yeah. I don't know… what would make me look like someone worth meeting, I guess."
There was something painfully honest in his voice.
Mian's heart ached — just a little — for this version of him.
"Yes, sir," she said softly. "I'd be honored."
Jin let out a slow breath, almost like a silent thank you.
And as Mian turned to leave, already picturing which suit in his massive wardrobe would feel just the right amount of effortless and sincere, she realized something:
Beneath the rich boy bravado, Jin was just a young man trying to be seen for who he really was — not for his name, not for his mother's expectations, not even for his looks.
And somehow, he had chosen her — a maid — to help him with that.
Even if just for one moment.
Mian stood in front of Jin's grand walk-in closet, a space bigger than the entire room she slept in. Rows upon rows of designer suits, crisp shirts, silk ties, and polished shoes surrounded her. Each item hung in perfect order, categorized by color, fabric, and season.
But for all the luxury, the room felt cold.
Like Jin — elegant on the outside, yet distant… unreachable.
She ran her fingers lightly across the fabrics, trying not to think too much about what she was doing. She was just a maid. A servant. Her job was to serve, not to feel.
And yet…
She could still feel the weight of his request. "Can you pick something for me, please?" His voice had trembled just slightly — enough to make her chest tighten.
She picked out a soft charcoal gray suit — classic, simple, and not too loud. Underneath, a pale blue shirt to soften his usual sharp look. And no tie — to make him seem just a bit more human, less like someone performing an image, and more like someone meeting someone honestly.
She laid the outfit neatly on his bed and stepped out of the closet, only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
He looked up when he heard her footsteps.
"You're done?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I thought this would suit you. You always wear black — but gray… it's softer. And the blue shirt brings out your eyes."
She instantly regretted the last part. It was too personal.
But Jin didn't tease her. He didn't smirk or throw a sarcastic remark her way like he often did.
He just stared at her, his expression unreadable. "You think she'll like it?" he asked, his voice low.
Mian blinked. "I… I don't know her, sir. But I think you look fine no matter what you wear."
There it was again — too honest. Too much.
Jin gave a short laugh, more bitter than amused. "You're the first person today who didn't talk about appearances like they were everything."
He stood and walked slowly toward the outfit, fingertips grazing the fabric. "My mother said I should impress her. That this girl is from an important family. That I need to make a good impression."
He turned to look at Mian again. "But what if I don't want to impress anyone?"
Mian hesitated. "Then… don't."
Their eyes met, and in that moment, it wasn't lord and servant. It wasn't rich boy and maid.
It was just Jin and Mian. Two young people standing on either side of an invisible line neither of them had drawn — but both had followed all their lives.
"I'll get dressed," he said after a moment. "Can you wait? I… I want your opinion."
Mian bowed slightly. "Of course."
She waited just outside the door, her heart pounding too loudly in her chest. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't feel this way. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to walk away.
Minutes later, the door creaked open.
Jin stepped out, adjusting his cuffs. He looked… stunning. But not in the untouchable way he usually did. He looked softer, like someone you could reach if you dared.
"Well?" he asked.
Mian tried to stay neutral. "You look… handsome. But more than that — you look like yourself."
He held her gaze. "Do you like it?"
Her breath caught. He hadn't said, "Does it look good?" He had asked if she liked it.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Very much."
Jin nodded slowly, then looked down at his shoes.
"I don't even know if I want to go," he confessed. "But if I don't, everything will fall apart."
Mian wanted to tell him to stay. That he didn't have to go. That maybe the person he wanted to be wasn't waiting in some restaurant, but was standing right here.
He looked at her for a long time. "Thank you, Mian."
She bowed, then stepped aside so he could pass.
He just wanted a pick for his date in the evening.
As he walked down the hallway toward the world waiting for him, Mian watched his back, already feeling the ache of something unspoken — something that might never be said.