Box Number Five
A headache had settled in — she couldn't tell whether it came from the heat itself or from nerves frayed because of it — and it left her unable to rest for even a moment.
How long had she been lying there when a cautious knock sounded from beyond the door? It was one of the staff.
"Minju, the evening mission at Sky Garden is about to begin. If it's truly too much for you, just say the word — there's no pressure at all."
Minju lifted her heavy eyelids. If she hid in here, it would be as good as proof that she'd been rattled — that she was afraid of being swayed by him. If he had thrown down his declaration of war, telling her to do as she pleased, then she intended to meet that attack head-on.
"No, I'll come out. I'll be ready in a minute."
She rose from her seat and smoothed herself into order. Her complexion was still pale, but her eyes alone gleamed sharp and bright.
She tidied her tangled hair and reapplied the lipstick that had worn away — a red a shade deeper and more vivid than she usually wore. It wasn't meant to please anyone's eye. It was war paint, laid on so that she would not come apart.
Changed into a white dress that traced her slim silhouette, Minju drew one deep breath and stepped out of the dorm.
In the Sky Garden, a mild night breeze drifted past as if to cool the heat the day had soaked up. Faint fairy lights stitched across the garden glowed low, like stars come down to earth, weaving a romantic air over everything. Insect song filled the spaces between the darkened shrubs, but in stark contrast to the peaceful scene, a taut tension hung over the contestants gathered there.
Finding an empty seat, Minju sat and carefully scanned her surroundings. Beyond the flickering candlelight, Seokjun's gaze found her. He was leaning deep into the back of his chair, watching her arrive with the easy air of a man who owned this garden.
"Now that everyone's here — tonight's evening mission is a little special."
The Love Coach's voice broke the silence, and the lights at the center of the garden flared bright. Six black boxes stood in a row before her.
"Romance may be a fantasy, but daily life is reality. The deeper a relationship grows, the first thing two people collide over is never some grand clash of values — it's the tiniest patterns of living, like how to spend a weekend morning. Which is why we've prepared this."
The coach gestured to the row of boxes and went on.
"Inside these six boxes lies the weekend morning of your dreams."
At the Love Coach's gentle prompting, every gaze swung to the black boxes at once. She continued slowly, touching on each one in turn, beginning with the first.
"For some of you, a morning scented with freshly baked bread and melting butter. For others, a lively weekend spent packing up a camping lamp and a cookware set."
The contestants nodded along, or studied the boxes with open curiosity. The coach smiled and indicated the next pair.
"Some of you will read the financial paper over a cup of hot coffee. Some will surrender to a soft pillow and a sleep mask, paying back a long-owed debt of sleep."
"Ooh, sleep. Sleep is non-negotiable for me."
"Same. Exactly the same."
Low murmurs of agreement rippled up around the garden, and the Love Coach brought her lines to a close, her eyes resting on the final two boxes.
"A stretch of perfectly peaceful rest — popcorn in hand, flipping through the channels — or a dynamic hour of sweat with running shoes and a tennis racket. Both are your lifestyle. This is about finding the person whose 'pace of life' matches your own, without anyone forcing it."
The Love Coach added with a soft smile, "Please choose the box that most resembles you. Every matched couple will receive a 'Rooftop Date Ticket' tonight — an evening to talk, just the two of you."
"Whoa!"
"A rooftop date? Are you serious? That's huge!"
The contestants' cheers burst out before the Love Coach had even finished speaking. For people already living on edge among strangers, guaranteed time alone together in a romantic space called the rooftop was a more powerful temptation than anything else on offer.
"We'll have the gentlemen choose first. Ladies, we'll come back to you in a moment."
At the coach's instruction, the men moved first. A few exchanges of brushing sleeves and hushed footsteps later, stillness returned.
"Now the ladies — please make your choices."
Waiting for her turn, Minju quietly watched the others move.
The first to step forward was Seon-young. Standing before the boxes, she stared for a long moment at Seokjun's back, her face threaded with a peculiar tension. She hesitated briefly in front of box one, then seemed to reach a decision and moved to box three — the financial paper and coffee. A calculated move, unmistakably made with Seokjun in mind.
Seol-hee and the remaining women settled their choices in quick succession. Last in line, Minju chose box five and returned to her seat.
The moment she sat down, the Love Coach's energetic voice rang out across the garden.
"Now, let's confirm the matching results! Those who chose number one, please stand up!"
The results came with cruel speed. The couple who had chosen box one stepped forward to stand before it, faces bright with laughter.
Next, Seol-hee rose for box two — but not a single man stood across from her. Watching her sink back into her seat, mortified, Do-yun fidgeted helplessly, as if the embarrassment were his to apologize for. Seol-hee didn't spare him so much as a glance.
Seon-young had chosen three, but contrary to her hopes, her match was not Seokjun but another male contestant. She made no effort to hide her disappointment, her mouth settling into a sour line.
A couple matched at box four as well and moved to stand before it. Only two boxes remained now — five and six.
Only three men had yet to stand: Moon Yeol, Sangho, and Seokjun. Minju stole a glance at Seokjun's seat. He sat without so much as a twitch of movement.
He hasn't stood up, so he's either five or six. He wouldn't have picked five... right?
Her heart began to pound at an unsettling pace. Unbidden, Minju found herself remembering the Seokjun of the past. The man in her memory had never once understood her preference for spending weekends resting at home. He was relentlessly active, armed at all times with overflowing energy — the kind of man who considered an hour of doing nothing a waste of his time.
He was the one who, every weekend, would wake her before the sun had even risen and haul her off to a hiking trail or a tennis court. She could still see him laughing, saying he only felt alive when he was moving and drenched in sweat. To that Seokjun, lying on a sofa watching television for hours on end was a life a universe away from his own.
No. There's no way he picked five. Minju bit down hard on her lip, as if to reassure herself. The Kwon Seokjun she knew could never, ever be box five.
"Next, number five! Those who chose number five, please stand up!"
Minju rose slowly to her feet. And in that same instant—
"I knew it! Minju and I are totally in sync! Hahaha!"
Moon Yeol sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. His booming cry shattered the stillness, and Minju flinched, shoulders jumping. At the sight of the usually brash Moon Yeol beaming like a child, laughter burst out from every corner.
"Moon Yeol! Aren't you enjoying that a little too much?"
"Anyone would think you'd just won the lottery!"
Just as the contestants' teasing jeers left Minju flustered, Sangho rose from the opposite side with composed, unhurried movements. When his eyes met hers, he narrowed them slightly — as if to say it was all right — and smiled, gentle and easy.
Thank goodness. Sangho's here. Only then did Minju let out the long breath she'd been holding. She was just beginning to relax, telling herself that only the call for number six remained—
—when the heavy scrape of a chair leg against the ground tore through the garden air. Minju's head whipped around.
It was Seokjun.
His face was as expressionless as ever, but his eyes gleamed brighter than she had ever seen them. And he began to walk — slow, unhurried — toward the box-five group where Minju, Sangho, and Moon Yeol stood.