Suyeon opens the door. Her breath catches in .

Sehun’s living room is huge. A low silver sofa sits atop a black-and-white dhurrie rug. Several dim lamps hang from the high ceiling, while filmy white curtains mask enormous ceiling-to-floor windows. If his living room is this amazing, I can only imagine how the rest of his house must be.

And sadly, as much as Suyeon doesn’t want to admit it, Sehun tops it all off. He lounges against the sofa wearing a cashmere sweater and jeans, a large pair of glasses resting on his nose. His brown hair is casually mussed up, causing Suyeon’s stomach to flip flop around.

Say what you want about Oh Sehun, but you can’t deny he’s exceptionally cute, Suyeon admits grudgingly.  

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Sehun remarks snarkily. Suyeon narrows her eyes.

“Shut up, please,” she hisses. After taking a seat on the far end of the sofa, Suyeon fishes her laptop out of her bag. “Now, let’s start.”

Sehun sneers. “Fine. Let’s list out Mirae’s symptoms. Panic attack. What else?”

Suyeon pulls up Web MD and types these symptoms into the Diagnose Me feature. “Uh, nausea and dizziness, too.”

“She was experiencing shortness of breath, too,” Sehun adds. Suyeon enters that in, too, and then freezes.

“Oh my god, Web MD says she has chemical pneumonia!” she gasps. Sehun snorts.

“Yeah, right. What else does it say?”

Suyeon peers at the screen. “Uh... she might have constipation.”

“Oh, give me that!” Sehun exclaims, and reaches over the sofa for the laptop. Suyeon puts her arms around her computer.

“Hey! Back off!” she shouts. Sehun frowns in annoyance and grabs Suyeon’s arms.

“Let go!”

“No!”

“Let go or you’ll pay!”

“Just try me!”

“You asked for it,” Sehun tells Suyeon, and strides out of the room.

Suyeon straights up, blinking in confusion. Where did he go?

No matter, she shrugs, and continues browsing the website. Hmm, Mirae might also have gastritis. That doesn’t sound good. She might also have heart rhythm disorder-

And then she feels a gallon of icy cold water being poured over her head.

“SEHUN!” Suyeon screams, standing up in shock. Her laptop clatters to the floor. Sehun is standing over Suyeon, a mischievous, gleeful expression on his face. A half-filled water jug dangles from his right hand.

“That was fun,” he chuckles. Suyeon looks at him, horrified. Her clothes are completely drenched.

    “You- you- what was that for?” she shrieks.

    “Uh... I don’t know.” Sehun scratches his head.

He suddenly realizes that he hasn’t dumped water over anyone’s head since 3rd grade Field Day.

What in the world compelled him to do this? “You- you wouldn’t give me the laptop?” he says weakly.

    “Oh my god,” Suyeon sniffles, tears pouring down her face. “This was my favorite tshirt! Now it’s all wet! Oh my god, my life is so y! I hate everything!”

    The amused expression fades off of Sehun’s face. He dully sets down the water jug on the coffee table and drones, “I’ll get you a towel, okay-,”

    In a flash, Suyeon has grabbed the water jug from the table and dumped its remaining contents over Sehun’s head.

    “Revenge is a , isn’t she, Oh Sehun?” she smirks cheekily.

    Sehun stares at her for one second, two seconds-

    Before yelling, “I’ll get you!” and proceeding to chase her around the living room.

    This is ridiculous, Sehun thinks to himself as he sprints after a laughing Suyeon. I haven't engaged in such a stupid activity since elementary school. What am I even doing?

    But as he looks at Suyeon’s cheerful face grinning up at him, Sehun feels a genuine smile curve his lips.

Sehun isn’t so bad, Suyeon thinks.

She is curled up on his couch, wearing a huge, fluffy cashmere sweater. Sehun graciously gave it to her because Suyeon threatened to throw a lamp at his head if he didn't so she wouldn’t have to stay in her wet jeans and tshirt.

“Okay, Suyeon, I’ve determined your diagnosis,” Sehun says in a mock-serious voice. Her laptop is sitting in front of him. “Your symptoms are: irritability, moodiness-,”

“Hey! I’m not restless or irritable!” Suyeon protests.

“-and your diagnosis, courtesy of Web MD, is... acute stress reaction. Or abuse- wait, no, it can’t be that, you’re too poor for -,”

“You brat,” Suyeon scoffs. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Let’s see, your symptoms are grouchiness, stupidity-,”

“Stupidity? Please.” Sehun snorts.

Suyeon raises an eyebrow. “So you admit you’re grouchy, huh?” Sehun rolls his eyes.  

“So according to Web MD, you’re probably suffering from PMS, Sehun.” Suyeon shakes her head. “I see.”

“Hey, that’s just because you entered me in as a female!” Sehun protests. “That’s inaccurate. If you were a real doctor you would be in a ton of trouble.”

Suyeon laughs. “Well, thankfully, I’m not going to be a doctor.”

“Good, because I definitely wouldn’t trust you.”

“Thanks. It’s great to know that you have so much faith in me.”

“You know, you’re not so bad for a poor girl,” Sehun muses. Suyeon rolls her eyes.

“I guess not rolling in 1000 won bills every day does something positive to your soul,” she bites back. “But I guess you’re not so bad for a self-indulgent punk.”

“Thanks. That really warms my heart.” Sehun’s lips tug up in amusement. “What do you want for dinner?”

“You’re gifting me with this nice sweater and dinner? Wow, Sehun, I can see why girls are all over you. You really know how to please a woman.”

Sehun eyes her, his lips. “That’s not the only way I know how to please a woman.”

“Please don’t ever do that again. You look like a lizard.”

“That hurts, Suyeon,” Sehun gasps overdramatically, clutching his heart. “Take it back.”

“No chance. Now, what greasy, unhealthy food are we ordering today?”

Who would've known this obnoxious girl from Daegu was so fun?, Sehun wonders.

To Mirae’s dismay, her mother was 100% on board with the garden party.

“Hyeri from Dr. Yoon’s office called me today, and told me about that garden party!” she squealed right after she had picked her daughter up from her therapy session. “I think it’ll be super fun for you! You’ve never been to a garden party before!”

“That’s because no person in their right mind has a garden party,” Mirae grumbled. Then she realized what she had said. And blanched.

So that is why Mirae and her mother are now driving up Byul Street, gawking in astonishment at the gorgeous mansions lining the road.

“I didn’t know Jaesun was loaded,” Mirae murmurs in awe under her breath. “These houses are, like, 6 times the size of our’s.”

“His house number is 839,” Mrs. Hwang says faintly. “Oh my goodness, Mirae, the houses are getting bigger as we go along...,”

“There!” Mirae slams on the window, causing her mother to jump in her seat. “Look! 839!”

    Several cars are parked in the massive driveway of the house already. All of them seem out of place in this wealthy neighborhood.

    “Yeah, we’re in the right place,” she informs her mother, and steps out of the car.

    A grandiose, red-brick mansion with 3 wing towers in front of Mirae. Pansies and daisies and roses line the pathway to the huge oakwood door. Mirae can spot the vivid blue tones of a swimming pool behind the house, and what looks like a white archway on the other side.

    “Come on, honey,” Mirae’s mom says, taking her hand. Mirae pulls away, cringing.

    “Ew, Mom, I’m too old for that,” she tells her, and Mrs. Hwang sighs.

    “Alright, alright. Now come on.”

    The two are walking up to the grand front entrance of the mansion when a familiar voice calls, “Hwang Mirae!”