I stared at the newspaper in front of me, studying my handiwork.

Less than a day had gone by since my parents had departed for their month-long business trip and already I’d cooked up some mischief. I wasn’t disobeying any of the explicit instructions they’d given me before they left, but there was no doubt that they’d disapprove of what I’d done. I was mentally preparing myself to be disowned, quite literally, if they ever found out.

The ad was pretty conspicuous, deliberately printed in bold fonts and colors. Even though I had been the one to draft up the ad and had reviewed it countless times during the editing process, I couldn’t help but read it over again. It was different having it as a file on my laptop screen versus having the real thing in print.

APPLY NOW

Job Description: Part-Time Personal Assistant

Desired Qualifications:

• Male (ages 18-30 preferred)
• Flexible schedule
• Responsible
• Strong interpersonal skills
• Creative

Inquire at [email protected] for detailed information

The contents of the ad were broad enough to attract a reasonable number of people, narrow enough to capture my target population, and ambiguous enough to obscure my true intentions: I was seeking out potential boyfriends.

Was it a desperate move? Quite. Did the situation call for such drastic measures? Absolutely.

Almost a month ago, my parents had reminded me that I was about to finish high school. With that reminder I’d realized I was approaching that age. Not college age, but rather the age where they would start introducing me to eligible young men from their social and business circles. They’d prod me into shopping for a husband in a fancy showroom masquerading as a high-class restaurant.

After groaning inwardly at the prospect, I’d decided to find a way to get what I wanted, at least temporarily. What I wanted was quite simple: to experience dating normally.

I had to go about it with subtlety. I could hardly put out a high-profile announcement demanding that people come date me, the daughter of Park Daemin, owner of the Imperial Diner chain and then some. So instead I settled for an ad strategically placed in a few local newspapers. My parents would never see it—they got their news in the form of electronic reports tailored to their interests, be it business, intellectual, or miscellaneous. But the common man would see it. It was perfect.

Anyone who sent an inquiry to the email address provided in the ad would receive a reply explaining what they’d truly be applying for: going on dates with an unnamed rich young woman (I was determined to remain anonymous until the last possible moment). Those who were still interested in the job would submit the necessary documentation: a completed application form, valid identification, and a current photo. After running a quick background check on all of the applicants and eliminating those who didn’t meet the most basic quantitative prerequisites (age being the most important; I was capping things off at 21 despite the age range printed in the ad), I would review the remaining candidates’ application materials and make my final decisions.

The irony hadn’t escaped me that I was orchestrating this elaborate setup for the sake of “dating normally.” However, I didn’t have much of a choice. I couldn’t get the real thing, so the next closest would be a simulation of that.

I looked up from the ad to glance to my left. My gaze swept over the hundreds of volumes of shoujo manga lining the shelves that covered an entire wall of my room.

Walking over to the shelves, I grabbed a volume and thumbed through it absently. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that I would get a fluffy, flawless romance like the one unfolding on the pages slipping through my fingers. I wasn’t even aiming to fall in love at all, really. More than anything, I just wanted an escape from the gilded cage that was my house and my parents’ plans for my future.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Simon says, ‘open the door,’” my visitor commanded in English. His voice was slightly muffled by the barrier between us, but I still recognized it. Plus, his way of announcing himself was a dead giveaway.

I quickly pushed the manga volume back onto my shelf and hurried over to the open the door. My visitor was dressed in a white button-down shirt and grey slacks, halfway between casual and professional.  His short cropped hair was slicked back. Despite his protruding, monkey-like ears, he was handsome, with sharp facial features.

“Simon!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him. His birth name was Junho, but his English name had special meaning for us since as kids we’d played Simon Says more times than I could count.

“Hey there, Jaekyung,” my brother responded, patting me on the head.

“What brings you here?” I demanded. Last I’d checked, he had been in Japan taking care of business matters. Ever since he had gone off to study in the United States, I hadn’t seen him much at all. Almost immediately after graduating from university he’d started managing one of the larger branches of our family’s business, and this involved frequent trips to faraway places. While the seven-year between us hadn’t been an obstacle to intimacy when we were younger, as we got older we occupied increasingly disparate worlds, and I found myself missing him more often than not.

“I got your email,” he answered as I finally let go of him. “You saw my reply, right?”

“Yes.” I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. In that email, I’d told him about my plans. Although I had plenty of money at my disposal, I didn’t want to raise our parents’ suspicion when they checked my account summaries at the end of every month. Unlike me, my brother was an adult, and our parents had allowed him his autonomy and stopped monitoring his personal spending (but not his business spending, of course), trusting him to do what was best for himself. Because of this, I’d asked Simon to make the necessary transactions under his name. After explaining that I planned to pay him back the difference once I was old enough to escape our parents’ financial oversight, he’d grudgingly agreed. Don’t tell me he’s changed his mind...

He must have noticed the doubt in my face since he said, “Don’t worry, I’m still going to help you with the financial stuff. I just figured I’d drop by and visit you because it’s been a while. Though I must say I’m impressed with the tentative budget you sent me.” He smiled.

I beamed right back and my back straightened reflexively at the compliment. Applying what I’d learned about budgeting, I’d drafted a budget plan for my dating scheme in order to give him an idea of how much money it would cost. It was nice to hear from someone with managerial experience that I had done well.

When at last I stopped basking in his compliment, I remembered common courtesy and invited him to sit down.

“How are the ‘rents?” he asked as he took a seat in my desk chair while I plopped down on the edge of my bed.

I crossed my arms, shrugging. “Same as always.”

By that, I meant that I saw more of my private tutors, who visited my home in the evenings, than I did our parents. My tutors, along with the in-residence staff at my house, had done most of the real hands-on parenting at our parents’ instructions. As top business executives, our parents were excellent delegators.

In response to my vague answer, Simon nodded.

We both knew his question had been perfunctory. He didn’t need to ask since he understood my situation, having gone through more or less the same himself. As the eldest child and a boy, Simon had gotten more attention, but it was only a slight advantage because it meant shouldering more responsibility as well. That was probably why he was helping me with my project despite the risk of upsetting our parents if they found out his role in it.

In the end, my brother returned to the original subject. “Although I’ve agreed to help you, I can’t help but feel a bit worried about your safety. What if one of them decides to kidnap you for ransom?”

I flapped my hand at him. “The background checks will screen out the criminally inclined guys.” But then again, there was the possibility that even if none of them had a criminal history, one of them might do something extreme out of desperation if they needed the money badly enough. I decided not to bring it up in case it convinced my brother to withdraw his aid. “Besides, Key will be watching out for me.”

At the mention of my manservant, some of the worry faded from Simon’s face, replaced by surprise. “He’s in on this, too?”

“Yes. How else do you think I’d get out of the house to go on dates?” Our parents had mandated that I be accompanied at all times whenever I left our property, and Key was charged with chaperoning and chauffeuring me.

“Ah, right. I forgot. You really have this whole thing planned down the last detail, don’t you?” my brother mused, shaking his head.

“I can hardly afford not to,” I said. Truthfully, if this had been anything but an act of rebellion against our parents, I believed that even they would have been impressed by my meticulous handling of everything. “Anyway, I was planning on going out to play some golf. We can talk more later.”

“Sure. Just make sure to meet me at the door around 6. I’m taking you out to dinner.” Simon rose from the chair. He wasn’t ridiculously tall, but he dwarfed me while I was sitting down. From this angle, he seemed even more adult-like than ever. I felt a pang of regret over his current state, constantly busy with work the way my parents were.

I walked him over to the door to say our temporary goodbyes. Before I closed the door after him, he said, “Make sure to keep me updated on how this thing plays out. I might be receiving the bills, but I’d like to know more than just the financial details.” He winked before setting off down the hall.

“Yes, sir!” I called after him. It seemed like he hadn’t lost all of his playful streak yet.

***

About fifteen minutes later, after changing my clothes and grabbing the necessary equipment, I was outdoors on the mini-golf course that sprawled across a section of our back lawn. Years ago, my parents had tried to get me interested in something like ballet, but I had taken a liking to golf instead. After a few unsuccessful attempts to change my mind, my parents had thrown in the towel and allowed me to take lessons. Though I would never be on the level of my idols, such as Yani Tseng, over the years I’d honed my skills to a reasonably good standard for someone who never planned to go pro. My mother once commented that it would be amusing to watch me beat some of our family’s business partners at the sport. My father had agreed heartily.

While I did have a bit of a competitive streak, golf for me was ultimately a hobby and a form of stress relief. When I stood on the course, it was just me, the club, the ball, and an expanse of greenery with its calming effect. In this quiet environment, I could lose myself in the sport without worrying about anything else.

I was so deep in concentration that I didn’t notice someone approaching me from behind until I nearly battered him with a warm-up swing of my club. The newcomer’s muttered curses drew my attention, and I realized who it was.

“Oh, sorry, Key, I didn’t see you.”

“I should hope not, or I’d sue for assault,” Key retorted. He was rubbing at his nose with one hand as if checking that it was still attached to his face. If there had been other people around, he would have acted like nothing had happened or blamed his own carelessness, but since it was just the two of us, he didn’t hold back his real thoughts. No matter what anyone might say about impropriety, I liked it better this way.

While we were in private, he also addressed me by my first name without honorifics, and I called him Key instead of Kibum at his request. Though he had never explained this nickname in detail, I suspected that beyond the obvious truncation of his birth name, he simply wanted something more chic-sounding than Kibum, which was, in his words, “common as dirt.” An English word worked well for that purpose.

“Well?” I prompted. Instead of putting the gold club on the ground, I swung it like a pendulum in gentle rotating patterns.

“Just swinging by to see you,” he said, a little too glibly.

I made a face at the pun. “Right. As if you don’t see me pretty much all the time when I’m at home. Spare me the nonsense.”

Key put up his hands in a melodramatic gesture of surrender. “I just wanted to ask you about your progress with your fishing-for-boyfriends plan.” Like my brother, he had initially expressed reservations about my idea. But in the end, I had persuaded him to cover for me, and now he was fully on board.

“The ad has been out since this morning, a few inquiries have come in, and the explanation message was sent out to them, of course. We’ll see when I start receiving the real applications,” I said.

As if on cue, the alert tone for incoming emails pealed out from behind us. I hopped over to my sports bag to retrieve my phone.

It was Key’s turn to say, “Well?”

Looking up from my phone, I grinned. “Perfect timing.” I had set things up so that the “fishing-for-boyfriends” emails forwarded to my main email account. The new message came with some files attached, meaning it was the first of the actual applications. “This is where the fun begins.”

A/N: For those who don't know, the Simon here is based on Simon from DMTN (a group that debuted around the same time as Infinite but is sadly underrated).