Love Camp — Episode 6: A Date, Apparently

Kwon Seokjun drew a short breath before speaking.

"Choi Doyun isn't feeling well, so I'll be going instead."

"...I'm sorry?"

"Let's go."

Without waiting for an answer, he strode off toward his car. So both of us showed up as substitutes? Minju couldn't shake her frustration at how, the more she tried to avoid him, the more relentlessly fate kept throwing them together.

A moment later, Seokjun settled into the driver's seat, rolled down the passenger window, and leaned his head out.

"Are you getting in or not?"

Standing there blankly in the face of the sudden situation, Minju finally made herself move — cameras were filming her, and beyond them, his gaze was boring straight into her. The thought of being alone with him in a sealed space made her chest tighten, and sweat beaded in her palms.

Don't be nervous, Seo Minju. He's acting like nothing's wrong — isn't it embarrassing that you're the only one rattled? If you avoid him, you lose. Act exactly the same, like it's nothing.

Steeled by that resolve, she climbed into the passenger seat. Even by American standards, he was doing well for himself — the interior of the luxury sedan, worth hundreds of millions of won, was spacious and refined. Once he confirmed she'd fastened her seatbelt, Seokjun pressed the accelerator gently and pulled out of the resort.

Apart from the mounted cameras, the two of them were alone in the car. A suffocating silence settled over the cabin. She wanted to turn on some music, but her hand wouldn't move, afraid he'd catch her being the only one on edge. Minju turned her gaze to the window. The supermarket, fifteen minutes away, felt impossibly far.

Then Seokjun said, abruptly, "Are you disappointed?"

She turned her head, studying his profile as he drove, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"What do you mean?"

He glanced briefly at her. "That it wasn't Choi Doyun. You seemed disappointed."

Did he actually think I'd be happy about it? If so, the man was delusional.

"I was a little surprised, but it doesn't matter who I go with. It's not a date."

"I thought of it as a date. Apparently you didn't, Ms. Seo Minju."

"You call this a date?"

"Does a date have to be something grand? If two people share the same space, meet each other's eyes, and share even a little of their time together — that's a date."

His matter-of-fact answer left her momentarily speechless.

"We clearly think differently."

"What does a date look like to you, then, Ms. Seo Minju?"

"Well... to me, a date is something you do when your feelings connect to each other's. Just spending time together is nothing more than a schedule."

"So what you're saying is, we're merely sharing a schedule right now."

"Yes."

Minju drew the line firmly. Surely even he could understand that much. But his next words set her blood boiling.

"I'll have to do better, then."

"...Pardon?"

"So that next time it's a date, not a schedule. I'd like to make it more enjoyable for you than Han Sangho would."

"What is that supposed to—"

Tap, tap. Someone knocked on the passenger window. Startled, she turned — they had arrived at the supermarket without her noticing. When she rolled the window down, a staff member who'd been waiting there leaned in.

"You two, the supermarket shoot is set up. Please head right in."

Minju nodded and unbuckled her seatbelt. The taut air between them dissolved quietly at that single sentence.

The store was bustling with weekend-evening crowds. Pushing her shopping basket along, Minju quickly gathered the ingredients on her list. Seokjun, by contrast, strolled at his leisure, pushing a cart and browsing the shelves, then casually dropped in an item. As Minju was picking up milk, her eyes snagged on a familiar package. He'd chosen — of all things — the brand of yogurt she always ate.

It's a coincidence. There's no way he picked it because of me. She told herself that, but between the pointed words in the car and now an unlisted item sitting in the cart, her heart was stirring in a way she resented.

Then Seokjun, scanning the cart piled high with groceries, asked, "Anything else we need?"

"Just the meat now."

At her words, he nodded and headed straight for the butcher counter. Her head a tangled mess, Minju hardened her expression and followed him quietly. When they reached the pork belly display, the woman arranging the cuts looked between the two of them and broke into a warm smile.

"Welcome. What can I get you?"

"Pork belly, please."

"How much?"

"Hmm... four pounds of pork belly and three of pork shoulder, please."

Minju read from the memo on her phone. But she couldn't help biting her lower lip at what Seokjun said next.

"Ma'am, could you split that into two pounds of samgyeopsal and two of ogyeopsal?"

"Now there's a man who knows his pork."

Because I like ogyeopsal better than samgyeopsal. The string of coincidences kept unsettling her.

"Young couples like you two shopping together — it's such a lovely sight," the woman said. Startled, Minju shook her head.

"Oh, we're not married."

"Really? You look like newlyweds to me."

The woman chuckled knowingly as she wrapped the meat. Minju, at a loss, looked away — but Seokjun said nothing at all. He simply accepted the wrapped pork with the faintest hint of a smile and placed it in the cart.

After they finished shopping and got back in the car, Minju watched him turn the ignition and demanded, "Why didn't you say anything back there?"

"It's not like we'll ever see her again. Does it matter?" He shifted into drive, speaking flatly, and the car slid smoothly out of the parking lot.

"We're on TV. People could get the wrong idea."

"Whether it's a misunderstanding or not — who's to say?"

"...What's that supposed to mean?"

"You and I could end up as a couple, Ms. Seo Minju. You never know how things will turn out."

"No. That's never going to happen."

"I suppose we'll find out."

Even against her firm reply, he didn't so much as blink. He only turned the steering wheel, wearing an unreadable smile.

Lights glowed in the lodge's courtyard, and the evening air was steeped in a savory, nutty aroma. As the contestants gathered in twos and threes to prepare dinner, Han Sangho rolled up his sleeves and headed for the kitchen.

"Sangho, you can cook too?" one of the female contestants asked.

He answered with a gentle smile. "Living alone, you end up learning."

His hands moved quickly and cleanly — mincing garlic, slicing vegetables, adjusting the seasoning, every motion natural and free of excess. Unlike the other male contestants, who sat in the living room watching and claiming they couldn't cook to save their lives, there was something about the way Han Sangho stepped up and got to work that made him look all the more attractive. When the scent of toasted sesame oil spread through the air, admiration burst out among the women.

"Wow, he's like a chef."

"At this level, shouldn't you be going on a cooking show?"

Then one of the female contestants said playfully, "I love a man who can cook."

"A man who can cook — that's high praise."

Han Sangho laughed sheepishly and fanned the pan. Minju wanted to help him as he bustled about alone, but she couldn't quite bring herself to squeeze into the circle of female contestants clustered around him. She was quietly organizing the groceries at the back when Han Sangho called out to her.

"Minju?"

"Yes?"

Startled at being suddenly called by name, she looked up.

"Could you trim the mushrooms for me?"

"Oh — sure."

Minju hurried to finish putting things away and came to his side. In that instant, the gazes of the female contestants around him shifted, ever so subtly. Seriously? They leave us standing right here, and he calls for the one who's all the way across the room?

A moment later, after a few silent, meaningful glances exchanged among themselves, the women drifted out of the kitchen, conveniently remembering other things they had to do.

"How should I cut these?"

"Size doesn't matter. Just slice them so they're easy to eat."

Minju nodded, rinsed the king oyster mushrooms, and began cutting them on the bias, her knife tapping the cutting board in a steady rhythm.

"Is this about right?"

"Wow, you're good at that."

At Han Sangho's praise, Minju felt her fingertips flush warm for a moment. After that, she did her best to play it cool, moving naturally as she prepped the ingredients he asked for. Like people who'd been cooking together for years, the two of them worked in astonishing sync. A faint smile lingered on Han Sangho's lips as he explained the recipe to her. Perhaps his smile was contagious — Minju kept fighting a losing battle against her own, until she gave in and simply enjoyed the time beside him.

Watching the pair from the living room, one of the male contestants murmured, "Those two? That's couple material right there."

"It's been less than a day. Isn't that a bit fast?"

"Look at them. Every time their eyes meet, they smile."

At that, every head in the room swiveled toward the pair. Just then Han Sangho said something, and a bright smile bloomed across Minju's face. From across the courtyard, Kwon Seokjun — who had been quietly watching the whole scene — rose slowly from his seat.