Paper crumples in your hand as you twist the fundraiser brochure nervously. Across the banquet hall of finely dressed elite, you spot Bang Yongguk, a.k.a your biggest opportunity to secure funding for your project for the next year and the man you are helplessly enamored with. You are clueless as to how to calm the butterflies lodging your throat long enough to talk to him.

A waiter passes by carrying a silver tray topped with delicate flutes of champagne. You hastily grab one and down the bubbles in one long drag. Liquid courage does naught for the pesky butterflies. Placing the empty flute on a white clothed table, you tilt your gaze back up to find that Yongguk has disappeared.

What am I going to do now, you fret, twisting the brochure into tighter and tighter knots. You search the entire room but cannot find him, accepting the fact that you will have to put your project on hold yet again. 

You slip unnoticed out of the hall and out onto the patio, breathing in the cool air. The sound of footsteps alerts you to the presence of another, but before you can turn to meet them a warm breath glides across the shell of your ear.

“I heard a rumor that you need my help,” Yongguk chuckles.