Chapter Text
CB97 Entertainment’s office wasn’t exactly big — nothing like the glossy, towering buildings Jisung had walked past on his way to work that morning — but it still managed to feel overwhelming. The walls were lined with framed posters of artists Chan had produced, the desks cluttered with laptops, notebooks, and the faint smell of too much coffee. It looked like a place where things were always in motion. Deadlines colliding. Melodies half-born. Someone’s future getting formed in small recording booths.
Han Jisung adjusted the strap of his backpack nervously, the weight of his laptop inside suddenly feeling like a brick with his name on it. His first official week as part of the team, and already he had to remind himself: breathe. Smile. Don’t mess up.
“Yah, Jisung-ah, you look like you’re about to faint,” Changbin’s voice cut through his thoughts. He leaned against the doorframe of the small meeting room, arms crossed but a grin tugging at his lips. “We’re not hazing you or anything, relax.”
Jisung pressed his lips together, trying not to glare. “I’m just… adjusting.”
“Adjusting?” Changbin snorted. “You’ve been adjusting for four days. What are you adjusting to? The caffeine intake?”
“Hyung,” Jisung whined, cheeks heating. He knew Changbin didn’t mean it harshly — they’d been friends since university, after all — but that didn’t make the nervous flutter in his stomach any quieter.
Before he could respond, Bang Chan appeared, balancing a stack of files and his ever-present tumbler of coffee. “Don’t tease him too much, Bin. He’s actually doing great.” Chan set the files down with a sigh, glancing between them. “And I’m serious — I need you both on your A-game. This event is huge for us.”
Jisung straightened immediately, nodding like his life depended on it. “Yes, Chan-hyung.”
The event. The word alone made his palms sweat. CB97 Entertainment’s first big networking showcase — dozens of artists, producers, managers, all in one space. For a small company, it was a chance to prove they were more than just Chan’s side project. And for Jisung, the rookie producer who still wasn’t sure why Chan had hired him in the first place… it was a test. And Jisung already felt like a failure.
“Guest list’s almost done,” Chan continued, flipping open one of the files. “Venue’s confirmed. We’ll need catering, flower arrangements, tech checks…” He glanced at Jisung then, eyes kind but firm. “You can handle some of that, right, Sungie?”
Jisung froze. He could practically feel Changbin’s grin growing wider.
“M-me?”
“You,” Chan confirmed. “Consider it practice. You’re good at organizing, and honestly, Bin and I are drowning in track deadlines.”
Jisung’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure both of them could hear it. “O-of course. Yes. I’ll do it.”
Chan’s smile was warm. “Good. Don’t overthink it. Just handle it step by step. We’ll help if you need it.”
Changbin clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him forward. “Look at you, our rookie turning into a real producer-slash-event manager.”
“Shut up,” Jisung muttered, cheeks burning. But despite his embarrassment, there was something else bubbling up beneath the anxiety — determination. If Chan trusted him with this, he couldn’t let him down.
Jisung sat in the small meeting room. His notebook was already crowded with messy to-do lists, doodles betraying how badly his nerves itched at him.
Across the table, Chan leaned back in his chair, scrolling through something on his laptop with the calm efficiency Jisung wished he had. He made it look so easy.
Jisung forced himself to focus as Chan finally looked up, sliding a folder across the table. “Okay. Let’s go over the showcase prep. We’re close, but details matter.”
Jisung nodded quickly, straightening in his chair. His heart was thudding louder than it should.
“First—guest lists.” Chan tapped the folder. “We’ve sent out invitations, but not everyone has responded. I need you to keep track, send reminders, make sure no one slips through.”
“Got it,” Jisung said, scribbling it down. His handwriting came out crooked.
“Second: catering. Venue’s confirmed, but we want the food and drinks polished, nothing cheap. It’s our first big event as CB97 Entertainment—it needs to feel professional, classy. Can you finalize the catering options this week?”
Jisung’s throat felt dry, but he nodded. “Yes. I’ll handle it.”
“Good,” Chan said with a smile that made it sound so simple. He took a sip from his tumbler before continuing. “Third: flowers and decorations. We’ll need something that looks on point but not too flashy. Do you know anyone reliable for that?”
Jisung hesitated, chewing on the end of his pen. Felix, his roommate who owned a cozy but quite impressive flower shop, came to mind immediately—he’d probably love the chance. “Yeah… I think I do. I’ll ask and confirm.”
“Perfect. Handle that, then.”
Jisung wrote it down in bold letters, underlining it twice.
“And lastly,” Chan added, his tone light but decisive, “tea. There’s a shop nearby, Thé-jà-Vue. Minho runs it. He’s got the best quality I’ve ever had, and it’s a little different—something that’ll make people remember us. I’d like him to handle the tea service.”
“Minho… Thé-Jà-Vu.” Jisung repeated softly, the name foreign on his tongue.
“Right,” Chan said with an encouraging nod. “Go talk to him. He can be a little particular, but he’s reliable once he’s on board. You’ll figure it out.”
Jisung forced his hand to move, writing it down even though his pulse was hammering. Talk to him.
That was easy for Chan to say. Jisung barely managed small talk with artists at the company, and now he had to convince some picky stranger to cater tea for an industry showcase?
Chan was still watching him, smiling like he believed without question that Jisung could handle this. “It’s a lot, but I trust you. Just take it step by step. You’re doing good, Sungie.”
The warmth in his voice made Jisung’s chest ache. He ducked his head, hiding behind his notebook. “I’ll get it done.”
Chan stood, gathering his laptop. “That’s what I like to hear.” He gave a quick grin before slipping out of the room, already answering a call.
The door clicked shut, leaving Jisung alone with his scribbled notes and the rising panic crawling up his throat.
He pressed the notebook flat with his palms. You only got this job because Chan is your friend. If you mess this up, he’ll realize it.
Jisung closed his eyes, trying to breathe past the thought.
Tea. Flowers. Guest lists.
One step at a time.
Still, his stomach sank at the idea of meeting this Minho.
The bell above the door chimed as Jisung stepped into Thé-Jà-Vu, clutching his notebook like a life raft.
The shop was quiet, steeped in the fragrance of citrus, roasted grains, and something floral he couldn’t name. Neat rows of tins lined the walls, everything precise without being cold. It was the kind of place that screamed competence.
And behind the counter stood Lee Minho. Apron tied neatly, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp enough to sort you into ‘useful’ and ‘wasting my time’ with a single glance. He was sliding small jars onto a tray with practiced precision, and when he looked up, Jisung’s heartbeat stuttered.
Of course he’s good-looking. Just my luck.
“Can I help you?” Minho asked, voice even, but with that faintly sardonic edge that made it sound like he doubted it.
“Uh—yes. Hi.” Jisung stumbled forward, notebook nearly slipping from his sweaty hands. “I’m Han Jisung, from CB97 Entertainment. We… we’re hosting an event, and I was sent to ask about tea catering.”
Minho blinked once. “Catering.”
“Yes!” Jisung blurted, way too loud. “Channie-hyung—uh, Bang Chan said you’re the best.”
Minho’s mouth twitched. “Flattery before you’ve even ordered. That’s a bold strategy.”
Jisung’s ears burned. “N-not flattery...”
Minho rested his elbows on the counter, leaning forward slightly. “All right then, Jisung-ssi. What kind of tea do you want?”
“…Kind?”
“Yes, kind.” Minho’s expression didn’t change, though his tone carried the faintest trace of humour. “What do you usually drink?”
“Americano,” Jisung muttered, but clearly Minho heard and blinked twice before huffing.
“Oh wow. Of course.” Minho took a step back, his gaze never leaving Jisung. “We have green, black, herbal, something to impress the health nuts? Or do you want to knock people out with caffeine so they stay awake through boring speeches?”
Jisung blinked at him, completely blank. “Uh… both?”
“Both,” Minho echoed, lips curling like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh. “That narrows it down.”
Jisung scribbled uselessly in his notebook, his handwriting turning into jagged lines.
“How many people?” Minho asked.
“Around… seventy... or eighty?” Jisung tried. “Hopefully.”
“Hopefully.” Minho tilted his head, his gaze a bit provocative. “That’s not exactly a number, you know.”
“I’ll—I’ll confirm soon,” Jisung stammered.
“Mm.” Minho tapped the counter once, eyes narrowing in mock thought. “So. You don’t know what kind of tea. You don’t know how many people. But you do know you want me to magically fix it.”
Jisung’s stomach twisted. “That’s—no, I mean—yes? I mean—”
Minho let him flail for a moment, then straightened. “Date and time, at least?”
“Yes! That I know.” Jisung flipped a page in relief and shoved the notebook toward him. “Three weeks from now. Evening event. Myeongdong Arts Center.”
Minho leaned close, scanning the page. Jisung caught the faintest whiff of bergamot clinging to him and promptly forgot how to breathe.
“All right,” Minho said, straightening again. “So you’ve got a date. That’s something.” He paused, then added dryly, “Better than my love life, anyway.”
Jisung nearly choked on his own spit. “W-what?”
“Nothing.” Minho smirked faintly, clearly amused at his reaction. “Come back when you’ve got numbers and at least a vague idea of flavour. Otherwise, I’ll have to guess. And trust me, my guesses are expensive.”
Jisung blinked at him, stunned into silence, before bowing so fast he almost knocked his forehead against the counter. “Right! Of course! I’ll come back. Sorry for wasting your time!”
“You didn’t waste my time,” Minho said lightly, already reaching for another tray. “I enjoy a good mystery.”
But Jisung was already fleeing, notebook clutched to his chest, ears flaming.
Perfect. Brilliant. First assignment and you look like a total idiot. He was definitely mocking you. He probably hates you already.
Inside the shop, Minho glanced at the closed door, the smirk lingering at the corner of his mouth.
By the time Jisung dragged himself through the apartment door, his brain felt like it had been wrung out.. He let his bag slide to the floor, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed face-first onto the couch with a groan loud enough to rattle the picture frames.
Felix poked his head out from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in his hand. “That bad?”
“That horrible,” Jisung mumbled into a cushion. “The worst. My career is over. Light a candle for me and play my discography of exactly zero songs. Or just bury me now.”
“You’ve been saying that every day this week,” Seungmin’s voice came from the armchair, dry as ever. He didn’t look up from his phone. “One of these days, you’ll actually have to be right.”
Jisung rolled onto his back, flinging an arm across his eyes like a dying poet. “Not helpful, Minnie.”
Felix came around the counter, setting a steaming mug of cocoa on the coffee table. “Ignore him. He feeds on suffering. What happened?”
Jisung peeked out from under his arm. “The tea guy.”
Felix blinked. “The… tea guy?”
“The catering!” Jisung sat up suddenly, hair sticking out in wild tufts. “Chan-hyung sent me to this fancy tea shop. Thé-Jà-Vu. And the owner—Lee Minho—” He broke off with another groan, burying his face in his hands. “He hates me. I made a complete fool of myself.”
Felix perched beside him on the couch, concern softening his freckled face. “What did he do?”
“He asked questions!” Jisung said, muffled. “Like… like what kind of tea. How many people. And I didn’t know! I said seventy or eighty hopefully! Who says hopefully?”
Felix bit his lip, clearly fighting a laugh. “Maybe he was just… doing his job?”
“No. He was mocking me,” Jisung insisted, looking up with wide, tortured eyes. “I could feel it. The sarcasm. The judgement. He’s too competent and too handsome and now he definitely thinks I’m an idiot.”
At that, Seungmin finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. “You do realize Jeongin works there, right?”
Jisung blinked. “Wait—what?”
“Jeongin. Minho’s part-timer. He’s been talking about it all semester.” Seungmin leaned back in his chair, lips quirking in the barest hint of a smirk. “According to him, Minho’s actually good at his job. Like… really good. Innie practically worships him.”
Jisung stared at him in horror. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
Felix patted his knee gently. “That doesn’t mean he hates you, Sungie.”
“It’s worse!” Jisung threw his head back against the cushions. “If Innie likes him, then that means he’s actually nice! Which means he just doesn’t like me! I knew it.”
Seungmin shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Or maybe you’re overreacting. Again.”
“I’m not!” Jisung wailed, tugging at his hair dramatically. “He smirked at me! Like he could see through all my lies and insecurities and he’s probably telling Jeongin right now that Channie-hyung’s new hire is a hopeless disaster—”
Felix cut in gently, sliding the cocoa closer. “Or maybe,” he said, smiling softly, “he’s just waiting for you to come back with the details so he can do his job. You don’t know yet.”
Jisung slumped forward, clutching the mug like it could hold his dignity together. “I’m doomed.”
Seungmin snorted. “You’re dramatic.”
Felix rubbed his shoulder, patient as always. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”
Jisung took a sip, scalded his tongue immediately, and groaned louder than ever.
Seungmin smirked. “Hopeless.”
Felix only laughed, the sound warm enough to ease the knot in Jisung’s chest, even if he’d never admit it.
CB97 Entertainment’s was busy. And loud. Someone down the hall was testing speakers and Changbin’s voice carried from the recording studio through the hallway.
Jisung sat across from Chan’s desk, notebook open, trying not to look like he was vibrating out of his skin. His notes from the day before stared back at him, scribbled and underlined, mocking him with their incompleteness.
Chan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So. How’s everything coming along?”
Jisung forced a smile. “Good! Really good. Productive.”
“Guest list?”
“Uh—most people answered. A few stragglers, but I’ll send reminders today.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie.
“Good.” Chan nodded. “Flowers?”
“I’ll ask Felix. He’s solid, he’ll make it perfect.”
“Perfect,” Chan repeated, scribbling a quick note. His eyes flicked back up. “And the tea?”
The air seemed to thicken. Jisung’s grip on his pen tightened. He could still see Minho’s intense eyes, hear the dry sarcasm in his voice: ‘Hopefully? That’s not exactly a number.’ His stomach twisted.
If he told Chan the truth — that he’d panicked, fled, and gotten absolutely nothing done — Chan might start wondering if hiring him had been a mistake.
So Jisung smiled, bright and fake, and said, “It’s all sorted. Thé-Jà-Vu will handle it.”
Chan’s face broke into a relieved grin. “Really? That’s great, Sungie. I knew I could count on you.”
Guilt crashed over Jisung like a wave. He scribbled something meaningless in his notebook to avoid eye contact. “Yeah. All good. Totally fine.”
Chan leaned forward, earnest. “This event is huge for us. Having Minho on board is exactly the kind of classy touch we need. Thank you for handling it.”
Jisung’s fake smile wobbled. “Of course. No problem.”
Inside, he was already screaming.
The bell above the door chimed softly as Jisung stepped into Thé-Jà-Vu again. His heart pounded in his ears, but this time his notebook was open in his hands, pages covered in frantic but legible notes.
Minho looked up from behind the counter, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Jisung-ssi. Twice in two days. That’s ambitious.”
Jisung bowed quickly. “S-sorry for yesterday. I wasn’t… ready. But I have more details now.”
Minho leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
Jisung flipped to the right page, forcing his voice to stay steady. “The event is three weeks from now. Evening showcase, Myeongdong Arts Center. Guest list is about eighty people — seventy confirmed, around fifteen still pending, but eighty should be safe.”
Minho nodded slowly. “Good. At least that’s a real number.”
Jisung flushed. “Yes. Right. Sorry about yesterday.”
Minho ignored that, tapping the counter lightly. “And what kind of tea do you want?”
Jisung froze. “…Kind?”
“Yes, kind,” Minho said, lips twitching faintly. “Loose-leaf service or pre-bagged? Do you want hot only, or hot and iced? Any caffeine-free options for late in the evening?”
Jisung stared at his notes, then blurted out honestly, “I have no idea.”
That seemed to amuse Minho. His smirk widened just slightly. “At least you’re honest.”
Jisung’s ears burned. “Chan-hyung probably doesn’t know either. We just… want the guests to be happy. And the event to look classy.”
Minho tilted his head, thoughtful now instead of teasing. “All right. Then I’ll put together a balanced selection. A few black teas for something rich, a green tea or two, some herbal blends for people avoiding caffeine. Loose-leaf looks better for an event like this, so I’ll arrange service accordingly.”
Jisung’s pen flew across the page, trying to keep up. “O-okay. Yes. That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
“Delivery or on-site service?” Minho asked next.
Jisung blinked. “…What’s the difference?”
“Delivery means I drop off the tea and equipment, and someone else handles brewing. On-site means I—or my staff—prepare and serve.”
Jisung’s chest tightened. Chan’s words echoed in his head: ‘Having Minho on board is exactly the kind of classy touch we need.’
And his own lie: ‘It’s all sorted. Thé-jà-Vu will handle it.’
He swallowed hard. “…Would you be available to cater at the event, Minho-ssi?”
Minho studied him for a long moment, unreadable. Jisung’s hands tightened around his pen until the plastic creaked.
Finally, Minho said, “Yes. I can do that.”
Jisung nearly sagged with relief. “R-really? Thank you! That would be—amazing.”
Minho’s lips curved, dry humour glinting in his eyes. “You sound like you just avoided a death sentence.”
Jisung flushed crimson. “No! I just—uh—it means a lot. Thank you.”
“Mm.” Minho jotted something quickly on a notepad behind the counter. “I’ll need the finalized guest number a week before the event in case there are some changes. And someone will have to confirm setup details with me the day prior. Think you can manage that, Jisung-ssi?”
“Yes,” Jisung said immediately, his voice a little too high. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Good.” Minho set the note aside, already reaching for a tin of tea. “Then we have a deal.”
Jisung scribbled “deal!!” in his notebook, underlining it three times. His hands were still shaking.
He bowed so deeply he nearly lost his balance. “Thank you again, Minho-ssi. I’ll… I’ll be back with the final details.”
“Looking forward to it,” Minho said lightly.
Jisung fled before he could embarrass himself further, his mind already spiralling: He agreed. He’s really coming. Oh god, I have to make sure nothing goes wrong. If this fails, it’s my fault.
Behind the counter, Minho shook his head faintly, a smile tugging at his lips.
By the time Jisung stumbled out of Thé-Jà-Vu, the crisp evening air hit him like a bucket of cold water. His pulse was still thundering, but there was a strange lightness in his chest too.
Minho had agreed.
The order was real.
The tea would be there.
He wasn’t fired. Yet.
With shaking fingers, he yanked his phone from his pocket and typed furiously into the group chat.
Jisung [5:31 PM]: it’s done. it’s handled. thé-jà-vue is on board.
Felix [5:31 PM]: omg!! see?? i told you it would be fine 🥺💛
Jisung [5:32 PM]: HE’S SO INTIMIDATING FELIX I SWEAR
Felix [5:32 PM]: lol maybe to you. i’m sure he’s nice.
Jisung [5:32 PM]: INNIE SAYS HE’S NICE. THAT MAKES IT WORSE.
Felix [5:33 PM]: stop spiralling. i’ll make you brownies.
Jisung dropped his forehead against a lamppost, groaning. Relief fizzed in his chest; panic answered right back. Brownies might keep the peace.