Naima was trembling. "Yes! Totally allergic! I'm gonna… arghhh…"
"Calm down… deep breaths…" said Hyunbin, handing her some ice to press on her stomach.
"You have… ibuprofen?" Naima asked, clutching her stomach as it twisted in pain.
Hyunbin panicked, almost dropping his bowl. "I'll go to the pharmacy first!" he shouted, half-running out of the restaurant, leaving behind the smell of stir-fried food and a pile of unwashed dishes.
Seojun looked at Naima, hesitant. "Wait… will ibuprofen really help? Do you need a hospital?"
Naima quickly shook her head, still holding her stomach. "No, no hospital. Just ibuprofen… it always works. Trust me!"
Meanwhile, several customers were watching the chaos—some holding back laughter, others worried, while a few waiters looked lost as Hyunbin ran off and left the kitchen in disarray.
"Yeah, my bad, my bad," Naima said after swallowing the pill. "I know nothing about K-foods…"
Seojun straightened up, adjusting his bag. "Ah, I have to go to the office now. Is it okay if you go home by yourself?"
Naima gave a polite smile. "Sure, never mind."
Just then, Hyunbin burst through the restaurant door, flipped the "Closed for a While" sign, and returned to the table with a serious face. "It's okay, I'll walk you home."
Naima held her breath, protesting internally, though her words came out politely. "Thanks, but I'm okay. I can still walk alone."
Seojun had already left, but Hyunbin stayed beside her, at an easy pace, eyes quietly watching her.
Naima's mind raced. "Oh no, Oppa Hyunbin, please don't catch feelings. In this K-drama, I'm already married… to a German guy, for heaven's sake!"
Hyunbin gave a small smile. "Walk fast, it's chilly outside."
Naima nodded, quickening her steps while trying to hide her smile—still pretending to be composed, but clearly flustered.
---
Naima tapped the table gently. "No, really, I can go home by myself. Don't worry about me. It's busy hour—you'll lose customers if you keep the café closed."
Hyunbin looked unsure. "But you look pale."
Naima flashed two thumbs up. "It's my natural pale face. Limited edition. Don't worry."
Hyunbin sighed, then flipped the "Closed for a While" sign back to "Open." "Okay, but text me when you get home."
"Sure, bossy chef," she teased, waving as she stepped out.
Once the door closed, Hyunbin shook his head with a faint smile as he wiped the counter. "That woman… weirdly brave."
Meanwhile, Naima walked slowly toward her apartment building, still holding her stomach. "God, even a seafood allergy can turn into a full-blown drama episode," she muttered.
---
Naima trudged through the lobby, clutching her belly that still cramped a little. Suddenly, a man in a tidy suit stopped her. He bowed politely and spoke rapidly in Korean.
"Sorry, I don't speak Korean. Wait, let me open my translate app first," said Naima hurriedly, fumbling for the mic icon. "Okay, go ahead."
A robotic voice translated, "Good afternoon, Miss. I am Mr. Choi, the driver of Madam Lee, Mr. Kang Jaeho's mother."
Naima froze. "Wait—he's the chauffeur who always opens the car door in Cherry Blossom Season!?"
Mr. Choi continued calmly, "My employer would like to meet you."
"Huh? Me? What for?"
"I'm not sure, but she said it's important," he replied smoothly.
Naima scratched her head, thinking hard. "Hmm… in the actual drama there's no scene where Madam Lee talks to a random stranger…"
"How about it, Miss?" pressed Mr. Choi gently. "Just fifteen minutes. At Enjoy Café."
Naima sighed. "Fine… I just hope there's no weird plot twist waiting for me."
Mr. Choi drove her to Enjoy Café. Through the glass window, Naima could already see Madam Lee sitting elegantly at a front table—the same spot where villains usually plot chaos in dramas.
"Good afternoon, Miss. Thank you for coming," Madam Lee greeted her with a calm smile.
"Oh, uh, hello. Sorry, I don't speak Korean, so I'll use a translation app," said Naima, fumbling with her phone.
Inwardly, she thought, "Wow… the villain actually looks graceful in real life. In the drama, her aura's like a tigress ready to attack."
"Would you like something to drink?" Madam Lee asked kindly.
"No, thank you. My stomach's still upset."
They sat across from each other. The café was quiet, but Naima's head was full of question marks. Why does Jaeho's mother want to meet me? We don't even know each other.
Madam Lee gazed at her deeply. "You must be wondering why I asked to see you. But I'm even more curious… because it seems you already know me."
"Oh no," Naima thought. "What do I even say to that?"
She forced a grin. "Well, you're a socialite, Madam. Of course, many people know you."
Madam Lee smiled faintly, though her eyes were sharp. "I see. My name is Madam Lee. And yours?"
"Naima… Treublut."
Madam Lee tried pronouncing it. "Na… Lee… Ma? Tu… re… blu… lut?"
Naima chuckled. "Two words, Ma'am. Not Korean. Naima, Treublut."
Madam Lee nodded thoughtfully, leaning forward. "Actually, there's something I want to ask. Last night, at the restaurant, when everyone screamed as I poured wine—you clapped. Why?"
"Uh, well…" Naima froze, then forced a polite smile.
"Well, Madam Lee is elegant and composed. I was sure you wouldn't do that… without a reason. So, I supported you!"
Madam Lee raised an eyebrow. "Do you know something?"
"Oh! I mean—the restaurant's Michelin-starred, right? The beef bourguignon was amazing!" Naima blurted, nearly tripping over her words.
"Like I could tell her I cheered because I knew she'd ruin her son's love life with his secret sister… yeah, I'd be dead."
Madam Lee's face turned pensive. "People only think I disapprove of Jaeho's relationship because of Sooah's background…"
Before she could finish, Naima jumped in, "Whatever the reason, I support you!"
Her smile was stiff, thumbs metaphorically raised like a chat emoji.
Madam Lee regarded her for a long moment, a subtle smile forming. "You don't want to know the reason?"
"Oh, no need. I'm sure you have good intentions," Naima said quickly, feigning calm even as her heartbeat went rock concert level.
Madam Lee's gaze softened—but grew intense. "Once, I met a shaman," she said quietly. "He told me I would meet a fortune teller… someone who could read my family's fate."
Naima's eyes widened. "Huh?!"
Oh no, don't tell me she means me! I just binge-watched the whole series, that's all!
She straightened up nervously. "Hehe… interesting, Madam. So, where did you meet this fortune teller?"
Madam Lee smiled, her tone calm but piercing. "I think I've already found her."
Naima blinked. "Wait… who?"
Madam Lee looked straight at her. "You, Naima."
"Ha?!" Naima nearly choked on her drink. "Me?!"
She hurriedly reopened her translation app—just to make sure she hadn't misheard. The screen confirmed it: You are the fortune teller.
Naima smiled awkwardly. "Oh no-no, Madam. I'm just a loyal drama viewer, not a psychic for chaebol families!"
Madam Lee chuckled softly. "Strangely enough, every time I speak with you… I feel like my son's future is changing."
"Well, duh, Madam," Naima screamed inside. "I'm literally from another world!"
Then Madam Lee's expression shifted. "But that's not what I wanted to ask."
Naima blinked. "Eh?"