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estellan0vella · 5 days ago

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Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Thirty: Toad In The Pond SS: 10 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 4.1 K Content Warnings: None? Previous Next Masterlist

Minho leans back in his seat, sipping on his iced americano, the soft hum of the car heater filling the space. Snowflakes flutter past the windshield as Hayun adjusts her scarf, taking a long sip of her hazelnut honeycomb frappuccino. She sighs contentedly, her earmuffs slightly askew, and Minho shakes his head.

“I need to understand your aversion to coats,” he says, his voice teasing but with genuine curiosity. “It’s freezing out there, but here you are. Bare legs and no coat. You’re dressed like winter Barbie.”

Hayun shrugs, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Coats ruin my cute vibe. I look like a marshmallow.”

“Yeah, because frostbite is such a good look,” Minho retorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, princess, a little practicality wouldn’t kill you.”

“Neither will a little cold,” Hayun quips back, taking another sip of her drink. “Besides, you’re my personal heater anyway.”

Minho huffs, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re impossible.”

They watch the diner from their vantage point, the windows fogging slightly as the heat inside contrasts with the snow-covered world outside. Hayun leans forward, peering at the entrance, and then settles back in her seat.

“What if we planted someone there?” she muses aloud. “Like Hyunjin? Hospitality workers live for customer gossip. When I worked at the café with Seungmin, we’d talk about the regulars all the time.”

Minho tilts his head. “Hyunjin, though? You think he’d blend in?”

“Hyunjin can blend anywhere,” Hayun replies with a laugh. “He’s like a chameleon with perfect bone structure.”

“Fair point,” Minho agrees. “But Seungmin working at a café? I can’t picture it.”

“Oh, he hated it,” Hayun says with a grin. “But he was great at eavesdropping, and his deadpan commentary kept me sane. I bet he’d love this plan.”

Hayun takes another sip of her drink and hums. “You know, this would be beautiful with some Bailey’s in it.”

Minho glances at her. “What’s Bailey’s?”

She perks up, animated now. “Okay, so before Etta passed, we celebrated my eighteenth birthday with a trip to the UK. We discovered Bailey’s. It’s this magical mix of Irish whiskey, spirits, cream, and flavourings.”

“Is it good?” Minho asks, intrigued.

“Good? It’s life-changing,” Hayun declares dramatically. “You pour it over ice, and it’s like drinking a creamy hug.”

Minho chuckles. “You have some at home?”

“Imported,” she replies proudly. “You better appreciate it when I share it. Shipping’s expensive as hell, but it’s worth every penny. I’m thinking of getting Chan a bottle for Christmas. He’d love it.”

“Fancy,” Minho teases. “Podcast money treating you well, huh?”

“Oh, you can’t talk, Mr. Fancy Car,” Hayun counters, smirking. “Besides, it’s the shipping that’s pricey, not the drink.”

Minho shakes his head with a grin. “You’re a trip, you know that?”

“I try,” she says with a mock bow of her head.

Minho shifts in his seat. “What if we did a big Christmas? My house and your house together. Sweet potato noodles, divine.”

Hayun wrinkles her nose. “Christmas roast is where it’s at.”

“That’s a Western thing, right?” Minho asks.

She nods enthusiastically. “Etta introduced me. Roast chicken, turkey, beef, gammon, vegetables galore, gravy, and- oh! Yorkshire puddings.”

Minho frowns. “Yorkshire puddings?”

Hayun lights up. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. It’s like this pastry thing, kind of, but not really. It’s an experience. You can put gravy on them, or apple sauce if you’re Felix or me.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“And toad in the hole!” Hayun adds, clapping her hands.

“Toad in the what?” Minho’s voice is incredulous.

“Toad in the hole,” she repeats with a grin. “It’s sausages baked into this batter. It’s delicious.”

Minho stares at her. “You’re making that up.”

“I’m not!” Hayun insists, laughing. “British food is weird, but it’s amazing.”

Minho shakes his head, taking another sip of his americano. “You’re a strange one, princess.”

“And yet, here you are,” Hayun teases, nudging his arm.

Minho’s lips curl into a small smile as he glances back at the diner. “Yeah, here I am. I can make beef Wellington, you know.”

Hayun groans dramatically, clutching her frappuccino like it’s a life raft. “Ooh, I might marry you. Forget the podcast, forget the plans, let’s just settle down and make beef Wellington together.”

Minho smirks, raising an eyebrow. ��High standards, I see.”

“You’d be surprised,” she shoots back with a grin, tucking her legs under her on the seat. “Can you make any other British dishes?”

“Not really,” Minho admits. “Beef Wellington is just one of those things I got obsessed with once, and I nailed it. You?”

Hayun nods proudly. “Etta was half-American, half-British, and she taught me a lot. You want cottage pie? Done. You want bibimbap?” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Expect a minor fire.”

Minho bursts into laughter. “Cottage pie?”

“It’s like shepherd’s pie,” she explains, already knowing where this is going.

Minho blinks, confused. “Okay, so there’s cottage pie and shepherd’s pie? What the fuck? What’s the difference?”

“Shepherd’s pie uses lamb mince, because, you know shepherds. Sheep,” Hayun replies, gesturing like it’s obvious. “Cottage pie uses beef.”

Minho tilts his head. “Okay, but why isn’t it called cow pie or farmer pie? Who comes up with this shit?”

Hayun freezes for a second, then laughs. “That… that’s a really good question. Cottage pie does sound unnecessarily fancy.”

“So, what actually is it?” Minho presses.

“It’s just meat and vegetables in gravy, with mashed potatoes on top,” she says. “I like being a little extra and putting cheese on the top.”

Minho nods thoughtfully. “I respect the cheese move. Tonight, you could make me the sheep pie or the cow pie.”

Hayun giggles. “We’d have to go shopping for ingredients.”

“Done,” Minho says without hesitation. “Or better yet, I want the toad in the well.”

Hayun snorts, nearly spilling her drink. “It’s toad in the hole. And that means you’ll get to try Yorkshire pudding too because it’s basically sausages baked into one giant Yorkshire pudding.”

“Deal. Toad in the hole it is,” Minho says, already starting to plan. “We’ll get the stuff after this.”

Hayun nods, sipping her drink again. “You’re really about to experience British cuisine, huh?”

Minho looks at her sideways. “Why is it called toad in the hole, though?”

Hayun leans back in her seat. “Something about how toads wait for their prey in burrows, with their heads poking out. Just like sausages peep through the batter.”

Minho stares at her, incredulous. “Why do you know that?”

She shrugs. “Read it once. Eidetic memory, remember?”

Minho shakes his head, smiling. “Yeah, that’s cute and all, but can we circle back to the fact that you, a native Korean, know how to make Western dishes but can’t cook bibimbap without setting something on fire?”

Hayun rolls her eyes, playfully smacking his arm. “It’s not that I can’t! I just don’t. It’s intimidating!”

“Intimidating?” Minho looks genuinely shocked. “It’s literally rice, vegetables, meat, and gochujang. You stir it all together.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Hayun grumbles. “I grew up on instant noodles and convenience store meals, okay? Western stuff was Etta’s thing, and it stuck. Bibimbap was not on the menu in rural America.”

Minho just shakes his head. “Princess, we’re fixing this. Tonight, toad in the hole. Tomorrow, bibimbap lessons.”

“Only if you teach me,” Hayun retorts.

Minho smirks. “Oh, I’m absolutely teaching you. And if you burn anything, you owe me.”

“Deal.” Hayun grins. “But tonight, you’re eating British food. Cheese-covered mashed potatoes and sausage-filled batter coming right up.”

“Sounds divine,” Minho deadpans. “Let’s hope I survive.”

Minho watches as Hayun shifts in her seat, her white mini skirt riding up slightly as she adjusts her position, wincing. “Two o’clock on the dot,” Minho says, glancing at his watch. “That’s one part of Mr. Shin’s schedule mapped out.”

Hayun sighs, leaning back against the seat. “Good. My ass is starting to go numb.”

Minho smirks, leaning closer. “I can smack it to bring the feeling back.”

“No,” Hayun snaps, glaring at him. “You did it earlier, and it still stings.”

Minho chuckles, unapologetic. “Can’t help it. It’s too tempting.”

Hayun groans, taking a long sip of her frappuccino. “You’re incorrigible.”

Minho hums in agreement, starting the car. “Now, let’s go get the toad in the pond stuff.”

Hayun turns to him, her brows furrowed. “It’s toad in the hole!”

“Right, right,” Minho replies, smirking. “Let’s go get the toad in the mud stuff.”

“You’re being patronizing,” Hayun accuses, narrowing her eyes.

Minho puts on his most innocent expression. “Me? Patronizing? Never been patronizing a day in my life.”

“Yeah, right,” Hayun mutters, rolling her eyes as Minho pulls out of the parking lot.

When they arrive at the store, Minho parks and leans back in his seat. “This better be good,” he says, side-eyeing Hayun.

Hayun gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Your lack of faith in me hurts, Min.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “A few weeks ago, you nearly burned my house down.”

“I can’t cook Korean food!” Hayun protests.

“You’re Korean!” Minho retorts, throwing his hands up.

Hayun huffs, crossing her arms. “Most of my foster families weren’t, okay? There’s a surprising number of Westernized people fostering Korean orphans. It’s not like I grew up learning traditional recipes.”

Minho softens slightly, but he doesn’t drop the teasing smirk. “Fine, but I’m holding you to this British masterpiece you keep hyping.”

Inside the store, Hayun grabs Minho’s hand, lacing her fingers through his as she pulls him toward the shopping carts. Minho looks down at her hand, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Dainty little hands,” he remarks.

“Patronizing!” Hayun snaps, tugging him forward.

“Me?” Minho feigns shock. “Never.”

Hayun doesn’t dignify that with a response as she starts loading the cart with ingredients. She grabs flour, eggs, milk, and a pack of sausages. “We’ll need these for the Yorkshire pudding batter,” she explains. “And I could make onion gravy to go with it.”

“You’re the chef tonight,” Minho says, letting her take the lead.

Hayun nods, grabbing onions, stock, and butter. Then she makes her way to the vegetable section, selecting broccoli, carrots, and green beans. “You’re my sous chef,” she declares, dropping the vegetables into the cart. “I’ve grabbed enough to make two toad in the holes in big dishes, so you can take one back to Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin.”

Minho stops pushing the cart for a moment, blinking at her. “You’re too nice.”

Hayun shrugs nonchalantly. “I know Chan misses stuff like this sometimes. He mentions Australia and his family a lot, so if I’m already making it, it’s no big deal to make another. I’ll give you instructions on how to make the gravy.”

Minho stares at her, an unfamiliar warmth spreading in his chest. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

Hayun smiles at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I know. Now let’s check out before you try to talk me out of it.”

As they reach the checkout, Hayun pulls out her phone, ready to tap the card reader. But Minho, quick as lightning, snatches it out of her hand. “Nope,” he declares, holding her phone out of reach.

“Minho!” Hayun whines, reaching for her phone, but he steps back, grinning.

“You’re not paying,” he says, effortlessly balancing the bags in one hand while reaching for his own wallet. “I’m still wooing you, remember? Besides, you’re making this because I asked for it.”

“So what?” Hayun huffs, crossing her arms. “Let me pay, you overgrown flirt.”

Minho merely chuckles as he taps his card to pay. “Not happening, princess.”

He grabs the bags and starts walking toward the door, leaving Hayun no choice but to trail after him. She sighs, glaring at the back of his head. “You don’t have to pay for everything, you know,” she says, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “You paid for my coffee earlier, too. Besides, I thought the wooing would end after we kissed in my bed.”

Minho glances back at her, a teasing glint in his eye. “The wooing doesn’t stop, even once we’re officially dating,” he replies. “But you’re right, I don’t have to do anything. I want to.”

That simple, sincere admission makes Hayun pause, her cheeks warming. She quickly pulls her scarf up over her mouth and nose, trying to hide her reaction.

Minho notices immediately, his smirk widening as he slows his pace to walk beside her. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. “Is the princess blushing for big, bad Lee Minho?”

“Shut up,” Hayun mumbles from behind her scarf, refusing to look at him.

Minho laughs as they reach the car. He places the bags in the trunk, glancing over at Hayun, who’s already climbed into the passenger seat. Her scarf is still hiding most of her face, but he can see the tips of her ears, red from embarrassment.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Minho starts the car and adjusts the heaters, turning to her with a mischievous grin. “You know,” he begins, leaning closer as she fumbles with her seatbelt, “I think it’s adorable how flustered you get. It’s nice to know I can have this effect on you.”

“Minho,” Hayun warns, her voice muffled by the scarf.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “I’m just pointing out how cute you are. It’s not my fault you’re so easy to tease.”

Hayun groans softly, pulling the scarf higher until it covers her nose entirely. “You’re insufferable,” she mutters.

“Am I?” Minho teases, his tone mockingly hurt. “But you still agreed to let me woo you. If anything, you’re encouraging this behaviour.”

“I take it back,” Hayun jokes, her voice light but muffled. “You’re terrible at this.”

Minho leans back, placing a hand on the steering wheel as he smirks at her. “Oh, princess, if you think this is terrible, wait till I start pulling out the real flirting. This is just the warm-up.”

Hayun peeks at him from behind her scarf, her eyes wide with mock horror. “This is the warm-up? God help me.”

Minho laughs as he shifts the car into drive, sneaking another glance at her as he pulls out of the parking lot. “God can’t help you now, princess. You’re stuck with me. And trust me, I’m not letting you out of this so easily.”

Hayun finally lowers her scarf slightly, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or else I’d kick you out of the car.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “I’m the cute one? That’s rich, coming from the girl who blushes at the drop of a hat.”

“Minho!” Hayun protests, half-laughing as she covers her face with her hands.

Minho chuckles softly, his eyes flicking between the road and her. “You’re going to regret letting me know how much you like this, princess,” he warns, his tone low and playful. “Because now, I’m never stopping.”

Minho and Hayun pull into the driveway of Hayun's house. The moment they step inside, Hayun kicks off her white Converse near the door, and Minho follows her into the kitchen, placing the bags of groceries on the counter.

Minho claps his hands together. “Alright, Miss British Cuisine Chef, put me to work.”

Hayun laughs softly, her cheeks slightly pink as she nods toward the groceries. “Okay, we’re making toad in the hole.”

At her words, a commotion comes from the living room. In an instant, Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix burst into the kitchen like excited children. Jisung’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “You’re making toad in the hole?!”

Hayun nods with a grin. “Yeah, Minho’s never had it, so I figured why not.”

Felix clasps his hands together, feigning tears. “Are we getting some, or is this all for him?”

“I’m making two,” Hayun replies, amused by their enthusiasm. “One for us five and one for Minho’s house.”

Jeongin leans against the counter with a wide smile. “Onion gravy too?” he asks hopefully.

“Of course.”

They all whoop in unison, their collective joy making Minho chuckle.

“Why are you guys acting like she’s making Michelin-star food?” Minho teases as Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix retreat back to the living room, clearly thrilled by the news.

“You’ll see,” Jisung shouts over his shoulder. “It’s a fucking masterpiece.”

Once the kitchen clears, Minho rolls up his sleeves. “Alright, boss. What’s first?”

Hayun hands him a cutting board and a knife. “You start chopping the carrots and broccoli. I’ll handle the potatoes.”

Minho gets to work, his knife moving methodically through the vegetables. “So, how do we do the veggies? Fry them?”

“Nope,” Hayun replies, peeling a potato with practised ease. “We steam them. For a dish like this, frying doesn’t fit the vibe. But we do have to boil the potatoes first to mash them. I add garlic cream cheese when I mash them.”

Minho freezes mid-chop, scrunching his nose. “Garlic cream cheese? In mashed potatoes?”

From the living room, Jisung shouts, “It tastes fucking divine!”

Minho shakes his head, amused, and keeps chopping. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Hayun finishes peeling the potatoes, dropping them into a large pot of cold water. She turns on the hob, adds a pinch of salt, and stirs it gently with a wooden spoon. “Potatoes are on. Now we need to make the Yorkshire pudding batter.”

Minho sets down the knife, grabbing the ingredients she’s already laid out. Under her watchful eye, he begins mixing flour, eggs, milk, and a pinch of salt in a bowl. His brows furrow in concentration as he whisks the batter, his arms flexing slightly. Hayun watches quietly, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she says.

Minho smirks, not looking up from the bowl. “Told you, I’m a man of many talents. What’s next?”

Hayun lines two deep rectangular dishes with greaseproof paper and preheats the oven. “Frying sausages,” she answers. “I’ll handle the bacon.”

Minho moves to the stove, heating a skillet and tossing in the sausages. As they sizzle, he glances at her. “Why do you need bacon if you’ve already got sausages?”

Hayun grins mischievously as she lays strips of bacon on another skillet. “You’ll see.”

Once the sausages are golden and fragrant, Hayun carefully wraps each one in the cooked bacon. She holds up one of the creations with a smile. “Pigs in blankets.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Pigs in blankets?”

“Yeah,” Hayun says. “Sausages are from pigs, and the bacon is the blanket.”

From the living room, Jisung’s voice rings out. “Are you making pigs in blankets toad in the hole?!”

“Yes!” Hayun calls back.

“I love you!” Jisung shouts, making Minho chuckle.

Minho carefully places the last bacon-wrapped sausage into the deep dish, arranging them evenly before stepping back. “Alright, chef. What’s next?”

Hayun grabs the bowl of batter Minho prepared earlier and slowly pours it over the sausages, the pale mixture spreading and filling the dish perfectly. “This,” she says with a grin, “is where the magic happens. The batter rises around the sausages to form a fluffy, crispy Yorkshire pudding.”

Minho watches intently, leaning on the counter as she pours the batter over the second dish. “How does it not just stay soggy?”

“It’s the heat,” Hayun explains as she slides both dishes into the preheated oven. “Super hot oven makes the batter puff up and get crispy on the edges. It’s science, Min.”

Minho hums, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Hayun laughs, setting the timer for thirty minutes and turning back to the counter. “Now, we start the vegetables.”

She moves to the steamer, arranging the broccoli, carrots, and green beans in neat piles in the baskets before setting it up over boiling water. Minho peeks over her shoulder. “Why do you look so precise doing that?”

“Because presentation is part of cooking,” she teases. “Now, check the potatoes.”

Minho lifts the lid on the pot and peers inside. “Why is the heat so low? Aren’t these supposed to boil?”

“They are,” Hayun says, washing her hands. “But we don’t want them done too early. Timing is everything when you’re cooking a big meal. We still need to prep the onion gravy.”

Minho crosses his arms, leaning against the counter as he watches her move around the kitchen. “I feel like I’m just here to be bossed around.”

“You’re here to help,” Hayun corrects, pulling out onions and beginning to peel them. “Now grab a knife and start slicing.”

Minho takes an onion and slices into it, glancing at her. “You know, you’re way too organized for someone who’s burned water before.”

Hayun rolls her eyes. “I didn’t burn water. I just forgot I was boiling it, and the pot went dry.”

Minho chuckles. “Sure, princess.”

They work in comfortable silence for a while, slicing onions and preparing the other ingredients for the gravy. Minho occasionally sneaks glances at her, smiling when he notices how focused she looks, her lips slightly pursed in concentration.

“You’re really good at this,” he says suddenly.

Hayun pauses, looking up at him. “Good at what?”

“Cooking,” Minho replies, gesturing at the organized chaos on the counter. “You’re like... competent. It’s surprising.”

She laughs, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thanks, I think?”

Minho smirks, brushing a piece of onion off his fingers. “It’s a compliment. Mostly.”

Hayun tosses a bit of onion skin at him, laughing when he flinches. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, slicing onions for you,” he replies with a grin.

They finish prepping the gravy ingredients, setting them aside for later. Hayun glances at the timer on the oven. “Fifteen minutes left. Let’s check on the batter.”

Minho crouches in front of the oven, squinting through the glass. “Holy shit. It’s puffing up. It actually works.”

“Told you,” Hayun says, leaning over his shoulder to look. “Yorkshire pudding magic.”

Minho straightens, turning to face her with a teasing grin. “You’re not allowed to look this smug.”

“I think I’ve earned it,” Hayun retorts, bumping his shoulder with hers.

Minho grabs the pot of boiled potatoes, draining them into the sink. “Alright, twig wrists, hand me the masher.”

Hayun snorts as she passes him the masher and a mixing bowl. “Jisung usually does the mashing because he insists it’s the most therapeutic part of cooking.”

Minho starts mashing with a dramatic flourish. “Therapeutic for him, labour for me.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Hayun teases, opening the fridge and grabbing the garlic cream cheese. She scoops out a generous dollop, plopping it into the bowl. Then she adds a splash of milk and a pinch of salt. “Here, this will make it heavenly.”

Minho mashes a little harder, mixing everything together. “You know, you keep calling this heavenly, but I have my doubts. What’s so special about garlic cream cheese, anyway?”

“It’s magic,” Hayun replies, her tone almost reverent. “Trust the process.”

“You sound like a Pinterest board,” Minho grumbles but continues mashing until the potatoes are smooth and creamy.

Meanwhile, Hayun turns to the pan of onions sizzling on the stovetop. She stirs them, adding flour and stock to create a rich, aromatic gravy. The kitchen fills with the comforting scent of onions and herbs, making Minho pause mid-mash to sniff the air.

“Alright, maybe I’m starting to believe,” he admits, grabbing five plates. He starts plating up the mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables with precision, clearly trying to impress her.

Hayun glances over. “Look at you, Mr. Perfectionist. Do you want to be a chef in your next life?”

Minho grins. “Nope. I just like showing off.”

The oven timer beeps, and Minho sets down the last plate to pull out the toad in the holes. He carefully places one on the counter for his housemates and brings the other to Hayun. “Here’s your masterpiece, Princess.”

“Don’t call me Princess when you’re holding my creation,” Hayun scolds lightly, but she’s smiling. She quickly starts cutting portions, spooning onion gravy generously over each slice.

Minho picks up the pot of leftover mashed potatoes and takes a bite. His eyes widen. “Holy shit, this is actually really fucking good.”

“Told you,” Hayun says smugly as she drizzles gravy over the last plate. “It’s all about the garlic cream cheese.”

Before Minho can retort, Jisung, Felix, and Jeongin appear in the kitchen, lured by the smell of food. They immediately start peppering Hayun’s face with kisses, one on her cheek, one on her forehead, and one on the top of her head.

“Stop!” Hayun laughs, swatting at them half-heartedly.

The trio suddenly freeze, realizing Minho is standing right there. They all look at him like deer caught in headlights. Minho raises an eyebrow, casually eating another bite of mashed potatoes.

“What?” Minho says, smirking. “You all like dick. I’m not worried. Unless—” He turns to Hayun with mock suspicion. “Something I should know?”

Hayun laughs, raising her hand. “Vagina haver, right here.”

Felix groans, burying his face in his hands. “You’re insufferable.”

Jisung leans against the counter, grinning at Minho. “You’re actually not freaking out. Impressive. Most straight guys would be sweating by now.”

Minho shrugs, still munching on potatoes. “I’m comfortable with my masculinity. Plus, I’ve got the girl, so what do I care?”

Jeongin shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re cocky as hell.”

“Damn right,” Minho replies. “Now sit your asses down and eat. Hayun’s been slaving over this for you ingrates.”

Hayun rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. She places the plates on the table, and everyone gathers around, digging in with eager anticipation.

Minho takes his first bite of the toad in the hole and pauses, savouring the flavours. “Alright,” he says after a moment. “This is fucking amazing. I take back everything I said about your cooking skills.”

Hayun beams. “Thank you, Min.”

Jeongin raises his glass of water. “To Hayun, the best chef in the house.”

Everyone cheers, clinking their glasses together. Minho leans over to whisper in Hayun’s ear, “You might actually be winning me over with this cooking thing, Princess.”

She nudges him with her elbow, laughing softly. “Good. That’s the plan.”

"But you still can't cook bibimbap for shit,"