Three students raced through the darkened campus, their hurried footsteps cutting through the empty silence. The flickering streetlamps threw faint rays of light on their uneven forms, casting moving shadows on the cobbled steps.

“God, Jungwoo,” Seulgi carped, in between puffs and pants, “why did you get them so drunk?”

“It’s not my fault that they’re such ing lightweights!” Jungwoo protested, hopping over a lone shrub. He flicked his head, tossing his long, bronze bangs in the air. “Johnny was so cocky about it, too – he just dunked four shots in one go, saying that he’s the king of–“

“Will you two just shut up and run?” Yuta laughed. He was at least three feet ahead of his friends, and they still had the gall to slow down.

Blessed with long, lithe legs, at least legs longer than Seulgi’s, Jungwoo propelled himself into the air and overtook the girl in a matter of seconds. Seulgi groaned loudly, struggling to keep up with the two boys as they chased each other into the night, trying to beat the minutes on the clock.

Jungwoo was first to the building at the top of the stairway, emitting a triumphant sigh. It quickly turned into panic as he rummaged through his pockets, finding no semblance of his key card.

“Oh, me,” he grumbled, remembering he had changed out of his jeans.  

Yuta and Seulgi threw him dirty looks, tapping their key cards in his stead and shoving him through the doors. They darted through the dimly lit hallway, making a beeline for the room at the very end. The neon sign at the doorway was blinking green, flashing the words in bolded letters: ON AIR!

They burst through the door, finding an uncannily relaxed Jaehyun with his back against the wall, scanning through his script. Wendy and Johnny were slumped over the only empty table, heads buried in their hands.

“You guys are late,” Jaehyun observed, his tone ironically unbothered.

Seulgi gaped. She checked her watch. “Isn’t it already time for the show?”

“I announced a technical delay,” Jaehyun replied. He leisurely flipped a page. “As long as they’re sorted out in about two minutes, we should be alright.”

Seulgi and Jungwoo scrambled into action, quickly pulling out the bottles of hangover cures they procured from the pharmacy and force-feeding them to their two intoxicated friends. They stirred weakly, with Seulgi and Jungwoo holding trash bags in front of them in case they were to regurgitate their insides.

Jaehyun looked up. “What took you guys so long, by the way?”

“These two smart-asses,” Yuta said, eyeing Seulgi and Jungwoo, “couldn’t agree on which brand to get.”

“Like I was saying,” Jungwoo sighed dramatically, glaring at Seulgi, “dihydromyricetin hasn’t been scientifically proven to cure hangovers. It’s not even fully FDA approved yet!”

Seulgi stared back at him. “It’s sold legally in a pharmacy chain, for ’s sake, Jungwoo–“

“,” Wendy grunted, trying to force her way into consciousness. Her head was still pounding like a drum at a rock concert. “I hate tequila.”

“You’re such a lightweight,” Johnny croaked, in spite of himself. He sat next to her, his head still in Jungwoo’s trash bag.

Jungwoo rolled his eyes. “I swear, you’re both such ing lightweights.”

“Excuse me?” Wendy raised her head. “You barely drank ! That’s why you’re still–“

Before they could spiral into an endless cycle of bickering, Jaehyun set his script on the table, glancing at the numbered clock on the wall. “Thirty seconds.”

Wendy and Johnny emitted successive groans, leaping to their feet and tripping over themselves as they hurried into the radio station. Jaehyun strolled in behind them, promptly shutting the door. Seulgi, Yuta and Jungwoo put on their headphones, taking their positions at the controllers.

“Three, two, one,” Seulgi counted down. “And, we’re live!”

“Good evening, night owls, busy bees and hopeless romantics! I’m DJ Wendy!”

“DJ Jaehyun.”

“DJ Johnny!”

“And you’re tuning into In the Name of Love, the only place for your nightly dose of some heart-stopping romance!”

“–I can’t believe this is our last session, Dr. Kim. It seems like only yesterday, but it’s been two years! Are you sure that we don’t need a few more?”

Jungwoo’s eyes trailed over the eager-looking woman, whose husband had his arm wound protectively around her shoulders. He leaned back against his seat, lips curving into a soft, amused smile.

Two years before, the two of them had demanded to have separate sessions for weeks at end, and it took him a tireless amount of negotiating to convince them that the whole point of relationship therapy was to work on problems together, not apart. They spent so much time at each other’s throats that Jungwoo could barely believe that the same couple was sitting before him with their fingers intertwined, sporting equally lovey-dovey expressions, looking like students at the peak of their college courtship.

“Well, Mrs. Lee, the goal of our sessions was always to have both of you hit a point where you no longer need me,” Jungwoo smiled. “Of course, you’re free to keep coming, but I think you’re both well past that point, don’t you think?”

The pair exchanged looks, before breaking into wide, hearty smiles. “You’ve helped us so much, Dr. Kim,” the husband said. “We’re eternally grateful to you.”

“My pleasure, and it was all you,” Jungwoo nodded.

Mrs. Lee leaned in, a sneaky look creeping on her face. “By the way, Dr. Kim, are you single?”

Jungwoo chortled. He knew where that was going. Any woman over the age of forty giving him suggestive looks and questioning his relationship status usually had only one motive in mind – matchmaking.

Jungwoo walked his patients to the door, half-bowing and half-persuading them, in the most chivalrous manner he could, that yes, I am single, but I’m good, it’s alright, thank you for offering to set me up, I’m sure your sister will meet someone nice, and yes, yes, I’m really sure. He continued raining a shower of pleasantries until they exited the clinic, holding hands and heading towards a hopefully more peaceful marriage.

He stretched his limbs, stifling a tired yawn. It already felt like the longest day, but he still had probably three more appointments to go. He artfully sidestepped the other patients in the bustling clinic, about to make his way back to the office to get a short shuteye before his next appointment when he caught the sight of Jaehyun leaning by the reception, one hand scrolling through his phone and the other clutching what seemed like his umpteenth cup of coffee.

“Waiting for your next clients?” Jungwoo asked, approaching the older man.

Jaehyun shook his head. “No, they’re in my office now,” Jaehyun said, cocking his head leisurely in the direction of his office.

Jungwoo furrowed his brows. “Then why are you here?”

Jaehyun remained unfazed. “They’re having their first round of Emotionally Focused Therapy, but it’s gotten a bit emotional so I’m letting them have their little shouting match before we proceed,” Jaehyun said, looking up indifferently. “No biggie.”

“You know, you’re supposed to referee that match,” Jungwoo reminded, narrowing his eyes. “That’s your whole damn job, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun shrugged. He took a sip of his coffee, tapping his foot to an imaginary beat. A loud scream cut through the noise of the busy clinic, turning everyone’s heads to the source – Jaehyun’s office. The timer on Jaehyun’s phone simultaneously went off, playing an alarm bell ringtone that echoed through the room.

Jaehyun handed Jungwoo his cup of coffee and pushed himself off the counter. “And that’s my cue,” he said, plastering on a smile and heading back to his office. He then stopped in his tracks, twirling around. “We’re having dinner with the others tonight, right? Chinese food?”

“Dude, your clients!” Jungwoo pointed out, ready to throw hands at him.

Jaehyun simply chuckled, continuing to his office, presumably to fix whatever the hell was going on inside. Jungwoo stared on, appalled.

“Crazy bastard,” he muttered, before downing the rest of Jaehyun’s coffee. He then transfixed his gaze on the empty cup and emitted a loud groan, realizing belatedly that the shot of caffeine meant he wasn’t going to be able to get any rest at all.

The sedan crawled behind the sea of cars on the highway, moving a short inch before coming to a neutral stop. Seulgi rubbed her temples, attempting to page through the thick stack of documents while balancing them on her lap.

“So,” Johnny said, his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes glancing over at her from the driver’s seat, “what do you think?”

Seulgi threw him a knowing look. “I think that you’re trying to bribe me, Johnny Suh.”

Johnny recoiled, pretending to seem vividly shocked. “Excuse me? What?” he said. “Bribe you? How could you accuse me of that, Kang Seulgi? I would never!”

“On the contrary, driving through busy Wednesday traffic to pick me up from the court is something that you’d never do,” Seulgi pointed out, eyeing him suspiciously, “unless you have something you want from me.”

Johnny chortled. “I just wanted to ask for your opinion on the Kwon Boa case, since I hold you in such high regard.”

“Such flattery,” Seulgi laughed, shaking her head. She averted her eyes back to the documents, where the letters seemed to be growing smaller by the second. “You want my thoughts? Fine. I think you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

“Why?” Johnny asked, surprised. “Scorned socialite housewife takes on her big, bad, rich husband, who also happens to be one of the biggest conglomerates in South Korea. Passion, intrigue, and not to mention, prestige.” He inched