“Is this guy your boyfriend?” a man with pitch-black eyes  asked a woman seated at  a small round table, sitting right across from a man with thick eye brows who looked thoroughly amused.

The woman fidgeted with the menu in front of her and shot a nasty glare at the man across from her. “Nope. Not at all,” she answered with a dry tone. “We’re just coworkers.”

“Good,” the man with dark eyes responded with a crooked smile. “He’s not good enough for a beautiful woman like yourself.” The woman could not help but to be slightly taken aback by the man’s forwardness. It didn’t help that he was possibly the most attractive man that she had ever laid eyes on. It was like a female Pygmalion had sculpted out her ideal form of a man out of marble, and the statue had sprung to life; it was unnatural. Blush crept up to the surface of the woman’s cheeks, and she tried hard to hide her new redness with the menu.

The man with thick eyebrows scoffed and stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying hard to hold back some rude, snarky comment. But his eyes spoke volumes as they rolled about in his skull. Her companion’s reaction recalled the woman back to her original purpose. She scoffed as well, slightly ashamed that she had stumbled (not entirely fallen) for the dark eyed man’s charm. “Do you hit on all of your customers? Or am I that irresistible?” she cheekily asked.

The crooked smile fell from the handsome server’s face, and he stared at her blankly like he was rebooting his brain. After a few moments of awkward silence, he finally asked, “Do you not like it? It’s the normal service we offer here.”

“No, I don’t like it. Now can we just put in our orders and can you treat us like average customers without your ‘special service’?” she pleaded as she handed the server her menu.

“O-of course,” the server stuttered, taken aback by the woman. “What will it be, princess?” The woman glared at him. “Uh, I mean, miss,” he quickly corrected himself as he drew out a pad of paper from his pocket and a small pencil.

“Tell your chef that the reviewer is here, let him choose what we eat, and I also want to interview him, so tell him that as well,” she quickly ordered In a curt tone. She didn’t mean to come off as rude as she did, but there was something about this place that put her in a sour mood. She couldn’t entirely blame the server because he was only doing his job, doing what he was told. The majority of the fault lied on the owner who was the mastermind behind this uniquely irritating bakery, the owner whom the woman was about to meet in a few short moments, whom she already hated for manipulating women’s malleable hearts for profit.

The handsome server politely bowed and left, making his way into the kitchen in order to deliver her message to the chef. Once the server was out of earshot, the woman’s coworker chuckled as he read the sign painted on the window next to their table, “Flower Boy Bake Shop.” He turned to his coworker and smiled teasingly. “Did you volunteer for this assignment, Tokki? Jumping at the chance to have boys who look like they belong in an idol band serve you cakes? I saw how you reacted to the server’s flirting. You liked it.”

The woman rubbed her face roughly with her hands in frustration. “This is what I get for being the only female food critic on staff,” she mumbled. “And don’t call me Tokki out here, Hoya,” she countered his ‘pet name’ with one of her own. Her coworker immediately frowned, not liking when someone called him by that name in public. “We’re on assignment. I need to retain some semblance of professionalism out here.”

Of course, Tokki was not her real name; it was Choi Bonnie, and she was a food critic of the city’s major newspaper. She had worked there for three years already and had received acclamations for several of her articles and a few pats on the back from her boss (earning her another nickname: the boss’s pet). From the beginning of her career, she formed a close bond with her fellow coworker, the one who first called her ‘Tokki,’ the one whom she teasingly called ‘Hoya’ for his unexpected gentle side and his love of purple, Lee Howon.  They had entered the newspaper on the same day and found themselves naturally drawn to each other because of it. Howon was a sports reporter, and his cubicle was right next to her own. They would eat lunch together most days, sharing their worries and complaints, and on particularly slow days they would exchange snarky remarks with each other by crumpling up a piece of paper and throwing it over their shared wall.

Her new assignment, her new dreadful assignment, was to review the new bakery in town that was quickly becoming a trend. However their fame was not based on a reputation for delicious pastries and breads. They were famous for their handsome servers who looked like they were princes that just jumped out of the pages of a fairy tale. But the ‘special service’ the place offered wasn’t having handsome princes serve you cakes; it was having those princes act like your boyfriend for your entire stay at the bakery. They would flatter their customers praising their beauty, take any opportunity for skinship, and upon request they would even feed the customers dessert. And so it became a Mecca for teenagers and single young women, who would return to the bakery day after day to see their ‘boyfriends.’ Bonnie found the entire thing disgusting and unrespectable. To her, the bakery was a scheme preying on the loneliness and desperation of women. A bakery should become successful based on the quality of their goods, not based on some ridiculous ploys playing with people’s hearts.

“Correction. You’re on assignment,” Howon clarified. “I’m just here for free food.”

Bonnie felt guilty. She had dragged Howon here without telling them where they were going; she had only promised that there would be free food, and so he jumped at the chance (he would often beg her to let him tag along on some of her other assignments in upscale restaurants, but she insisted that he would be a distraction). Bonnie was sure that if she told him where they were going, Howon would have ran in the opposite direction. She was delightfully surprised that he hadn’t yet tried to escape the girly bakery; he must have really wanted the free meal. Bonnie reached out and patted his hand which was lying on the table. “Anyway, thanks for coming,” she said with a smile. “I could really use a guy’s opinion on this place, and God knows that male patrons are scarce here.”

Howon looked around with his judging eyes. “Well, I am the only guy here who’s not working. Although I’m not sure about that guy,” he said pointing at a man in an apron with a sharp features but large lips. “He doesn’t seem to meet the idol-like standard here. He’s a bit on the short side.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “You’re just mad because if you applied here, you would be rejected immediately. That guy is twice as handsome as you are. And what are you, one centimeter taller than him?” she needled him.

“I could work here if I wanted,” he argued with a frown, his competitive nature seeping out. “I’m more than handsome enough. And I can say cheesy things too.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Princess…” he started, but he ended snorting, unable to follow through with his lip-service.

Bonnie tore her hand away from his grasp. “Right. Just do us all a favor and stick to your day job, Hoya.”

Hoya smirked. “I got you to blush though, Tokki,” he said triumphantly.

Bonnie’s hands raced to her cheeks, and sure enough, they were hot to the touch. “I’m not blushing because of you,” she tried to defend herself. “It residual blush from the server before!”

“Oh, if you liked Myungsoo so much, I could get him to serve you again,” a voice came from her side. Bonnie and Howon turned and were face by a man with large, closed-lip smile, carrying a whicker tray laden with baked goods. “But I thought you would prefer to be served by the chef himself. Trust me. It’s an honor. I don’t do this for just anyone,” he ended with a deep chuckle and wink. He placed the large tray on the small table, leaving no spare room for the reporters to even rest their elbows. Then the chef grabbed Bonnie’s hand with both of his. “Nam Woohyun. It’s a pleasure to meet you, princess.”

Bonnie grounded her teeth together. She hated being called ‘princess’ by the server, but she loathed being called it by the chef. The lilt in his deep voice sounded tainted; it came so naturally he had to have said it several times before. Bonnie unclenched her teeth and smiled. “I’m no princess. I’m just Choi Bonnie,” she politely responded, gently moving her hands out of his.

“That’s right. She’s not a princess. She’s a tokki,” Howon joked under his breath, so quiet only Bonnie could hear (which earned him a swift kick to the shin under the table). Then he stood up and shook Woohyun’s hand. “Lee Howon,” he introduced himself. “I’m a sports reporter at the same newspaper as Bonnie-ssi.”

“Oh, Howon-ssi! I’m familiar with your work,” Woohyun said with such enthusiasm as if he was meeting his favorite celebrity. “I loved your last article about the baseball game. The coach would be smart if he took your suggestion and switched pitchers.”

“Really?” Howon responded utterly pleased.

Bonnie cleared , eager to return back to business and get it over with. “So what did you bring?” she asked.

Woohyun rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke and gestured to the tray, “As you can see, I didn’t know what to bring. So I just brought you one of everything.”

Bonnie gnawed on the bottom of her lip as she surveyed the tray. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute, and her stomach grew heavy as stared at the mountain of pastries and breads in front of her. “You don’t need to try everything, if you don’t want to,” the chef urged her.

Bonnie felt a little irritated that he could read her worries so easily. “No, it’s okay. I want to write a thorough review. This would help. Besides, I brought Hoya here to help me,” she reassured him, her coworker’s nickname accidentally slipping past her lips. Howon growled a little and frowned.

“Hoya?” Woohyun was confused, and his eyes darted back and forth between Howon and Bonnie. Then a smile broke on his face. “Oh! I get it! You two are dating. Don’t worry. I won’t tell your boss,” he teased.

Howon laughed and raised his hand, showing off a thick golden band on his ring finger. “I’m actually married, unlike this loner,” he joked gesturing towards Bonnie. “Besides Tokki is about as feminine as you and me. I’d have an affair with that server,” he said pointing to a long-haired server with large, sparkling eyes, “before Tokki.” Bonnie hit Howon sharply on the head with her pencil. “See what I mean!” Howon defended himself, rubbing his new sore spot.

“Tokki?” Woohyun asked scrunching his nose.

“Yea, this wise guy brilliantly discovered that Bonnie sounded like bunny,” Bonnie explained as she jotted a few things down in her notebook, picking at the foods. “Him and every single one of my grade school classmates.”

“I like it!” Woohyun announced as he drew a chair from a nearby table and sat with them. “It suits you.” Bonnie looked up at him skeptically. She doubted that the chef could make an assessment like that having only known her for a grand total of five minutes. She shook her head and returned to taking her notes. Then she heard Woohyun chuckle. “You know, you can eat those.”

Bonnie put down her pencil and picked up a spoon. “Sometimes the presentation is just as important as the taste, especially at a boutique bakery such as this. People like to eat pretty things,” she explained as sliced into a strawberry shortcake with her spoon and took a bite. Then Bonnie proceeded to take notes on what she had just eaten. She gestured to Howon that he could help himself to the rest of the strawberry dessert.

“People like to look at pretty things too. That’s why—whoa! Wait, that’s all you’re eating of that,” he objected as he noticed the silent interaction between the coworkers. He took the dessert from Howon who grumbled like a child having had his sweet taken away. “You barely got any of the strawberries or the cream,” he argued as he portioned out a large bite onto his spoon. He then pushed the spoon against her tightly shut lips. Bonnie looked at him with wide eyes hardly believing the audacity of the chef. She took offense as he insinuated that she didn’t know how to do her job properly. Woohyun did not notice her distress and pouted. “Please. Just take another bite. Tokki-ssi, aaaaaaaah,” he begged her to open with baby-talk. Astounded, Bonnie did so, and Woohyun pushed the food forcefully into . He smiled widely, this time showing his teeth, but something seemed odd about the smile to Bonnie as she carefully chewed and swallowed the dessert. The smile wasn’t entirely natural; there was something practiced about it.

Howon snorted and laughed as he watched his coworker crumble under the chef’s aegyo. He then took the rest of the strawberry shortcake and cheerfully ate it. “Not bad,” he praised with his mouth still full of food.

“Thank you,” Woohyun responded with his practiced smile again. He turned to Bonnie expecting some words of praise from her as well, but she was busing herself with a cheesecake. “So I heard that you wanted an interview with me as well.”

Bonnie nodded, swallowing the last bits of the chocolate drizzled cheesecake before handing the plate to Howon. “How many customers do you normally get? Is it always this crowded?”

“Please don’t call them our customers. They’re our girlfriends,” he quickly insisted. Bonnie shot a glance over to Howon who raised his hands in the air and shrugged his shoulders. Woohyun didn’t even seem to notice and continued to answer the question, “And it’s usually like this after school lets out. That’s our busiest time. It normally dies down around dinner time. But when the schools are on break, we’re packed like this for the whole day.”

“How did you get the idea for a bakery like this? It’s…unique,” Bonnie ended, struggling to find the right word to describe this place.

Woohyun chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s hardly an original idea,” he admitted. “They’ve had places like this in Japan for years, but my cousin had the idea after watching the drama ‘Flower Boy Ramyun Shop.’ But I guess for the area, yes it’s unique.” Bonnie was surprised by this level of honesty coming from a man who insisted on calling his customers his girlfriends. “But I like to think that it’s my excellent baking skills that help us to stand out,” he remarked. With that, Bonnie returned to being wary of the chef, especially after tasting his desserts.

“You don’t taste any of your desserts, do you?” Bonnie suddenly asked, inspecting the red velvet cake on her spoon before placing it in .

Woohyun rubbed his upper arms with his hands subconsciously and was shocked. “H-how did you know?” he asked. Bonnie watched him as he rubbed his biceps. She could see his carefully toned muscles through his thin cardigan. She looked at his neckline, her eyes falling on his protruding collar bones. Any man who took care of his appearance as meticulously as he probably did, would not risk masking his hard earned muscles with a layer of fat that his desserts would give.

Bonnie put down her spoon. “It tastes like you follow a recipe blindly,” she said finally putting words to the average tastes of his food. There was nothing special about them at all.

“Not blindly…accurately,” he mumbled disgruntledly but there was still a trace of a smile on his face.

Bonnie wrote a few lines into her notebook as a heavy silence oppressed the table. Howon looked uncomfortable as his eyes darted back and forth between the writer and the baker (but that still didn’t stop him from shoveling the rest of the red velvet cake into his mouth). Then Bonnie looked up from her notes. “How were you trained?” she asked as she tore a piece from a croissant, tasting it carefully.

“When I was younger, my aunt taught me, but recently I’ve been teaching myself. I know that I’m far from perfect…” he confessed. Bonnie’s pencil stilled, once again tripped up by his unexpected modesty. “But I’m getting close,” he ended with a wink. Bonnie sighed and continued writing. Every time the chef had made an humble comment, he would immediately undercut it with his brash arrogance.

“What about your servers? What’s your hiring process like?” she asked as she handed several breads that she just sampled to Howon. Howon took in a deep breath, bracing himself. He was starting to feel full, but he wasn’t so willing to pass up the opportunity for free food. After giving his pregnant belly a few rubs, he began tucking into the small loaves of bread in front of him.

Woohyun wiggled his black eyebrows, barely visible under his long bangs. “Do you want to meet them?”

“Um, that won’t be—“ Bonnie began, but her words were cut off.

The chef gave them a signal, and the four servers quickly gathered around the already crowded table. “You’ve already met Myungsoo. He’s our manwha prince,” Woohyun introduced the dark-eyed server who gave his crooked smile as he bowed. Woohyun then gestured towards the server with the sharp jaw-line. “This is Dongwoo. He’s our sweet, attentive prince.” The server’s features softened into a warm, toothy grin as he politely bowed. “And this is Sungjong, our cute prince. Go ahead. Do the cutie player,” Woohyun demanded of the long-haired, doe-eyed server. And before Bonnie could object. Sungjong proceeded to perform the cutie player not only to 6, but up to 10. Bonnie could sense the judging stares from Howon as he loudly chewed on a baguette. And she could no longer keep her blushing under control; her palms grew sweaty. After Sungjong had finished, Bonnie unconsciously clapped, but quickly caught herself and stopped. Woohyun looked over at the writer, pleased. He subtly gave Sungjong a ‘thumbs up’ for charming her. The chef’s smile was significantly larger as he introduced the last server, “Finally, this is Sungyeol, our…” Woohyun’s face fell as he cocked his head. “What prince are you?”

Sungyeol’s hair was unfortunately a wiry mess, and large plastic frames covered half of his face. He was obviously the black sheep of the group, even Woohyun seemed to acknowledge it by not remembering what role Sungyeol was responsible for. Sungyeol’s face was stiff as he responded, “I’m the smart prince.” His bow was as stiff and awkward as his facial expression was.

“Nice to meet all of you,” Bonnie waved and smiled at all of them. Her smile widened when she made eye contact with Sungyeol, hoping to raise his spirits, but his rigid lips just merely twitched upwards and he almost dropped the pencil that he was twirling nervously in his hand.

Woohyun turned to his waiters. “Okay guys. You should probably get back to work,” he gently suggested, and the four dispersed, returning back to their ‘girlfriends.’

“What prince are you?” Howon asked, wiping crumbs from his mouth.

“Me?” Woohyun asked with a shocked voice, pointing to himself. “I’m not a prince…I’m the king,” he ended with a chuckle. Bonnie fought hard not to roll her eyes. She was a professional and had dealt with chefs more arrogant and full of themselves than Woohyun. But then why was this particular chef irking her so much?

Woohyun turned to Howon. “If you ever want to take a break from writing, we could really use a sporty prince,” he suggested.

Howon hung his head, trying to hide him smile; he was obviously flattered by the suggestion. “Nah. That’s okay. I don’t think my wife would like it if I worked here,” he politely refused.

Bonnie sighed and looked at her watch. She had to return home if she wanted to meet her deadline for the article. “Woohyun-ssi,” she called to the chef as she began to gather her things. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have a deadline to meet. Thank you so much for your time. It was…nice meeting you.”

Woohyun frowned. “So soon?” he asked. He looked down at the tray. Without him knowing, she had sampled each and every baked good on it. He had never intended for her to try all of it, just to pick out a few she thought looked most desirable. She was right in telling him that she wanted to be thorough.

He stood up from his own chair and quickly grabbed her coat from off of the hook. Bonnie halted, shooting him a confused look. Woohyun had wanted to help her put on her coat, but after seeing her look at him as if she thought that he wanted to steal her pink peacoat, he relented and just rested the coat on her shoulders. “It was nice meeting you too, Tokki-ssi. And you too Howon-ssi. Please come again,” he bid farewell with a warm smile.

“The article should be out tomorrow,” Bonnie informed him. “Goodbye,” she waved as she stepped outside the bakery with her coworker.

After walking a few step away from the shop, Howon broke the silence, “Are you normally that much of a hard- during interviews?”

Bonnie frowned. She was normally a friendly girl, but there was something about Nam Woohyun that rubbed her the wrong way, that drudged up memories of her past. She had known people like him, the charmers. She hated them. Turning towards her coworker, she answered, “If you mean professional, then yes. Yes, I am.” Howon glared at her. “Okay, I was a bit harsher,” she admitted. “But did you see the way he practically ignored my last question?”

“I think that he was a little excited,” Hoya guessed. “He seems like one of the types to plan elaborate things. I mean, just look at the one server’s cutie player. That was all planned.”

Bonnie nodded, her head whirring with her thoughts of the shop. “Everything was planned,” she repeated to herself. “It's as if they were following a script. Did you notice how the first server and Woohyun-ssi called me princess? I bet he makes them call all the customers that.”

Howon let out a fake gasp. “You mean ‘girlfriends,’ “ he corrected. Then he shook his head. “It’s like a host club.”

“But take away all the razzmatazz, and all you’re left with is mediocre desserts,” she concluded.

Bonnie was stretching in front of her laptop screen. She had less than an hour before she had to send in her article. Night had fallen hours ago. The only light that shone for blocks in her neighborhood was her small desk lamp. Bonnie had always felt more productive at night, especially with the pressure of deadline quickly closing in on her. But this article had been surprisingly easy to write. She took a swig from her energy drink before continuing.

She read out loud as she wrote (thinking it would help her catch mistakes more easily): “In short, Flower Boy Bake Shop is a charming facade with no substance. The baked goods are beautifully presented, but the taste falls short of their appearance. The servers are handsome princes, wooing their ‘princesses’ with lines from a well rehearsed script. Then there’s the owner with the disingenuous smile, insisting that his sweets and breads are what draws in the crowd of fanatical girls, not the idol-like men he hired. If you want to eat baked goods in this city’s equivalent to a host club, then Flower Boy Bake Shop is the place for you. However, if you desire high-quality and inventive desserts, you should look elsewhere.”

“Aaaand finished!” Bonnie announced as she sent the article to her editor. She smirked, and got up from her chair with a great big yawn. She looked at her still opened laptop with the sense of a job well done, but then she felt a pang of guilt. “Sorry Nam Woohyun-ssi.”