Matchmaker Mayhem

"When sabotage is just another form of matchmaking."

The summit event description sounded promising enough.

"True Beauty Challenge: Inner vs Outer Compatibility"

Ava thought it might finally be a session about real, meaningful connection.

She should have known better.

The reality? 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

A pop-up runway had been erected in the Grand Mirae Center’s ballroom, complete with glittering lights, a shallow mirrored walkway, and velvet ropes.

Clipboards were handed out.

Clients were asked to rate potential matches based on:

Physical attractiveness,

Presentation style,

And only afterward, inner personality.

In other words:

Beauty first, substance later.

Ava’s stomach churned.

She stood at the edge of the runway, arms crossed, heels clicking impatiently against polished marble.

Ryan sidled up beside her, sipping a coffee he’d somehow charmed out of the summit staff.

"They’ve officially turned love into a game show," he said under his breath.

"Next week’s challenge: Swipe left on humanity," Ava muttered darkly.

Ryan snorted, bumping her hip lightly with his. "Go easy, jagiya. You’re going to sprain your outrage muscle."

She smirked—but the unease wouldn’t leave her chest.

Watching nervous clients rank each other with forced smiles made something inside her ache.

This wasn’t matchmaking.

It was marketing.

And she wasn’t about to let it go unchallenged.

The Sabotage Plan: Chaotic Honesty Quiz

When her turn came to present her "method," Ava stepped boldly onto the stage, high heels clicking sharp against the polished floor.

The judges waited, pens poised, bored expressions fixed in place.

Ava smiled sweetly—too sweetly.

"I’ve decided," she said brightly, "to skip the looks portion of the challenge."

Murmurs rippled across the crowd.

One judge leaned forward. "Miss Lee, appearance assessment is mandatory under summit guidelines."

Ava tilted her head, all false innocence.

"Of course. I’m assessing appearances—"inner appearances."

More murmuring.

More confused frowning.

Ryan, leaning against the far wall, grinned behind his coffee cup.

Ava waved a stack of freshly printed handouts she’d secretly prepared at 6am.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce... The Chaotic Honesty Quiz™."

The summit director blinked. "The what?"

"The only compatibility test where looks are banned," Ava announced, grinning wider. "You can only rank each other based on brutal honesty, emotional intelligence, and the ability to survive bad karaoke on a first date."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Some clients perked up instantly, intrigued.

The judges, however, looked increasingly alarmed.

Ava handed out the questionnaires, full of chaotic but telling questions like:

"How do you apologize after a fight?"

"What’s your emotional damage level on a scale from 1 to therapy?"

"If your soulmate burned dinner, would you cook, laugh, or order takeout?"

"How petty are you when losing board games?"

Pure matchmaking gold.

Or, at least, pure matchmaking fun.

Ryan, The "Volunteer"

Someone coughed loudly.

"Who’s your sample client?" one of the judges asked suspiciously.

Ava turned sweetly toward Ryan.

Ryan immediately straightened, sensing doom.

"No," he said instantly.

"Yes," Ava said cheerfully.

"You’re using me as a crash test dummy?"

"You’re perfect," Ava said, fluttering her lashes.

Ryan sighed dramatically, finished his coffee in one long swallow, and stalked onto the makeshift stage with exaggerated martyrdom.

The audience laughed.

Ava handed him the first quiz question.

Ryan read it aloud, deadpan:

"Describe your communication style in relationships: a) Open and supportive, b) Passive-aggressive meme sharing, or c) Disappearing into work projects until called out by name."

He gave Ava a deeply unimpressed look.

"None of the above," he said.

"Oh?" Ava tilted her head, smirking. "What’s your style, Oppa?"

Ryan leaned into the mic slightly, voice dropping into a gravelly K-drama voice that made half the clients swoon:

"Buy you coffee. Kiss you stupid. Repeat until forgiven."

The room erupted in laughter, applause, and a few dramatic sighs.

Ava flushed—because she knew damn well he wasn’t acting.

She shoved the next question into his hand before she could combust.

The Backfire: Public Flustering

Ryan read the next question:

"On a scale from 1 to 10, how obsessed are you with your current partner?"

Ryan didn’t hesitate.

"Eleven."

The audience howled.

Ava’s ears burned.

Someone in the back shouted, "GET MARRIED ALREADY!"

Ryan winked at Ava, smug and dangerous.

And just like that, Ava’s chaotic honesty quiz had spectacularly backfired—turning the entire matchmaking summit into a live commentary on her and Ryan’s love life.

Backstage, Ava shoved Ryan lightly as they escaped the crowd’s laughter and teasing cheers.

"You’re evil," she hissed, still flushed.

"You made the quiz," he said, utterly unrepentant.

"You weaponized it."

He shrugged, slipping an arm around her shoulders casually as they walked.

"You’re the one who keeps giving me microphones."

"You’re banned," she muttered.

He dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head. "You love it."

She did.

God help her, she did.

---

From the far side of the ballroom, tucked behind a half-draped banner stand, Min Seo-jun watched them.

Ava Lee — laughing, flushed, alive — shoving the smugly grinning Ryan Kim backstage like she didn’t know the whole damn summit was watching them fall harder every day.

Min Seo-jun sipped her untouched latte, the paper cup warm in her hands.

She should have been annoyed.

Should have rolled her eyes at the amateurism.

Should have filed it all away as childish theatrics.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she found herself smiling—

small, private, involuntary.

It wasn’t Ava’s beauty.

(Though it was impossible not to notice her, vibrant and sharp as a blade.)

It was her light.

Her reckless heart.

The way she stood in the center of the storm and chose joy anyway.

Min Seo-jun swallowed hard.

Dangerous, she thought.

She stayed longer than she meant to, watching until Ava and Ryan disappeared out the side door, laughter trailing behind them like a banner.

She didn’t notice Madam Choi approaching until the older woman came to stand silently beside her.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Madam Choi, without looking at Min, said quietly:

"You’ll miss something important if you stare too long."

Min blinked, startled.

She opened her mouth—then closed it again.

Madam Choi turned her head slightly, sharp eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"Be careful, Seo-jun," she said softly, almost kindly.

"Some fires aren’t meant to be touched."

And then she walked away, slow and dignified, leaving Min standing there with her empty coffee cup and the uncomfortable weight of feelings she hadn’t even realized she was carrying.

Min crushed the cup in her hand and threw it neatly into the bin.

There was no reason to linger.

None at all.

---

Outside the summit hall, Seoul had shifted into full evening bustle.

The city glowed under a canopy of neon signs and fluttering banners. The air was cool and sweet, tinged with the mouthwatering scent of sizzling batter, sweet syrup, grilled meat.

Ava turned, eyes lighting up like she’d just spotted treasure.

"Oppa," she said, grabbing Ryan’s hand before he could protest. "Come on!"

He barely had time to grab his jacket before she was tugging him into the flow of the crowd, weaving expertly through businessmen, tourists, and teenagers shrieking over idol merch.

"Where are we—?" Ryan started, but then he saw it:

Gwangjang Market — a chaotic wonderland of street food, vendors, neon lights, and sensory overload.

Paper lanterns swayed above rows of colorful stalls.

Steam poured from iron griddles sizzling with hotteok, spicy tteokbokki, odeng skewers, mandu dumplings.

The air vibrated with laughter, haggling, and the clang of ladles against steel.

Ryan laughed low in his throat as Ava dragged him under the first awning, heading straight for a stall overloaded with tteokbokki bubbling in thick gochujang sauce.

Ava fumbled to explain what she wanted, gesturing at the bubbling pot with wide eyes.

The ajumma behind the stall laughed kindly, rapid-firing Korean Ava couldn’t hope to understand.

Ryan stepped up smoothly beside her, flashing his easy smile.

"Ajusshi, hana deo juseyo," Ryan said in casual, confident Korean. "Gomapseumnida."

(One more, please. Thank you.)

The ajumma beamed at him, rattling off a delighted stream of words.

Ryan laughed, answered her easily—something about how spicy was fine, Ava liked it hotter.

Ava just stared.

Ryan Kim, chaos lawyer, espresso addict, professional instigator—

Spoke Korean.

And not just a little.

Not the clumsy, touristy phrases she might have expected.

No—he sounded natural, at home, relaxed.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise.

His last name was Kim, after all.

But somehow, seeing it—hearing it—made Ava’s heart flip sideways in her chest.

Another layer she hadn’t peeled back yet.

Another secret softness she hadn’t even realized she already loved.

Ryan turned back to her, handing her a paper tray piled high with spicy rice cakes and a few bonus odeng skewers.

He caught her staring.

"What?" he said, bumping her hip playfully. "Oppa’s useful."

"You’ve been hiding skills, Kim," Ava said, accepting the food, pretending her heart wasn’t hammering itself stupid.

Ryan smirked, slipping an arm casually around her shoulders as they moved to a small corner table under the lanterns.

"Some things," he murmured, dropping his voice low, "are more fun to reveal slowly."

Ava popped a piece of tteokbokki into her mouth to shut herself up before she said something absolutely, embarrassingly real.

And Ryan just smiled at her across the plastic table—easy, sure, wrecked and wrecking her in return.