Ahn Jisoo was a walking contradiction: the nation's heartthrob idol, face of a dozen brands, and a magnet for scandal. He should’ve been careful. He knew better. But the photo, that damn photo, was already on every tabloid and trending on every social platform.

A girl. A hotel. 3 a.m.

It didn’t matter that it was his cousin from Busan. No one believed it. And his agency was in panic mode.

Jisoo slumped into the backseat of his black SUV, sunglasses covering half his face, the other half buried in his hand. The manager, Minjae, was already mid-rant.

“We need a solution. Fast. Something clean. Something believable.”

“I told you, it wasn’t”

“Doesn’t matter,” Minjae cut him off, tapping frantically on his phone. “We need a girl. A new face. Low profile.

Someone no one will question.”

“Like a ghost?” Jisoo said flatly.

“Like a barista,” Minjae said, eyes lighting up.

Jisoo frowned. “What?”

Across town, in a tiny café nestled between a bookstore and a hair salon, Yoon Hana was burning her fifth espresso shot of the morning.

She wasn’t glamorous. She didn’t wear heels or fake lashes. She liked things simple — coffee beans, indie rock, and peace.

So when a tall man in designer clothes strode into her café with a tablet and a proposal that sounded like a bad Netflix drama, she nearly poured scalding milk on him.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, eyebrows raised. “You want me to fake-date an idol. For one hundred days. Live in the same house. In front of the whole damn country.”

Minjae nodded like it was the most normal request ever.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re unknown, unproblematic, and frankly... invisible.”

Hana blinked. “Wow. You really know how to flatter a girl.”

“You’ll be paid handsomely,” he added, sliding the contract across the counter.

Hana stared at the numbers.

That was more zeroes than her café had customers.

“Does he even agree with this?” she asked, nodding toward the sleek car parked outside.

Minjae smirked. “Let’s just say... he doesn’t have a choice.”