It started with the faintest of sounds—a low gurgle, the kind you hear in a quiet house and think nothing of. I rolled over, hugging my pillow tighter. But then came the unmistakable splatter of water, followed by the sound of cascading liquid, like a waterfall in the middle of the night.
And then… the smell hit me.
Kimchi.
I bolted upright, blinking into the darkness. Why did it smell like someone had opened every jar of fermented vegetables in existence and spilled it directly onto my floor?
As I stumbled toward the kitchen, half-asleep and utterly unprepared, the scent grew stronger, mixed with the tang of grease and the metallic tang of disaster. My bare feet touched the water before I even turned the corner.
"What the hell is going on?!" I shouted, the panic rising in my voice as I stepped into the kitchen.
And then I saw it.
The sink—my poor, innocent kitchen sink—had turned into a fountain of chaos. Water sprayed from the pipes, the faucet, and the drain in wild, unpredictable bursts. It rained from the ceiling in uneven spurts, dripping onto the counters, the appliances, and the already flooded floor.
Chunks of kimchi floated on the surface of the water, accompanied by rogue grains of rice and what might have been tteokbokki sauce. The smell was overpowering, like a fermented apocalypse.
In the center of it all stood Luke and Amiel, drenched from head to toe.
Their white shirts clung to their bodies like second skins, emphasizing every curve of muscle. Luke's long black hair, usually tied back neatly, hung in wet strands over his shoulders, and water dripped steadily down his face. Amiel's golden hair was plastered to his forehead, and his expression was one of sheepish guilt.
"We apologize for the sink's bowel movement explosion," Amiel said, his voice grave, as though delivering a formal apology on behalf of the sink itself. "We will help with removing the odor and cleaning the mess."
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to laugh—or scream.
"What. Did. You. Do?" I asked, enunciating each word through gritted teeth.
Amiel pointed at Luke without hesitation. "He used magic."
Luke, to his credit, looked genuinely remorseful. He lowered his hazelnut eyes to the floor, water dripping from his hair and onto the mess below. "I was attempting to fix it," he said quietly.
I threw my hands in the air. "Fix it?! Luke, it looks like you summoned a damn monsoon!"
The sound of splashing behind me made me turn. I-seo shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Her sleepy expression shifted to confusion, then shock, and finally to uncontrollable laughter.
"Oh my god!" she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "What did you do to the kitchen?"
She barely waited for an answer before her eyes landed on Amiel. Her laughter stopped abruptly, and a mischievous grin spread across her face.
"Amiel," she said, practically purring as she sauntered toward him. "You look… incredible right now."
Amiel blinked, clearly confused. "What?"
"Your shirt," I-seo said, pointing with a giggle. "It's very… revealing."
I groaned. "I-seo, can we not focus on that?"
But she wasn't listening. She stepped closer, her grin widening. "Do you always look this good when you're soaked?"
Amiel tilted his head. "I… don't know?"
I threw up my hands, exasperated, and turned my gaze back to Luke.
Big mistake.
Luke stood slightly apart, his broad shoulders rising and falling with steady breaths. His soaked shirt clung to his chest and back, emphasizing every muscle curve and line of strength. Water dripped from his hair, trailing down his jawline and neck before disappearing into the fabric.
My heart skipped a beat.
"You…" I stammered, trying desperately to regain focus. "You both need to change. You'll get sick if you stay like this."
Luke blinked, tilting his head slightly, clearly oblivious to the effect he was having. "Understood," he said.
I turned away quickly, but not quickly enough to escape I-seo's sharp eyes.
She elbowed me in the ribs, her grin downright wicked. "Hey, Sis," she whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. "You're looking."
"I am not," I hissed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. I really can't hide anything from her. I shook my head as we continued with the cleaning.
"You totally are," she teased, her voice sing-song. "And here I thought you weren't into guys."
"Shut up," I muttered, my face burning.
I tried to focus on the mess in the kitchen, but as Luke and Amiel walked toward the hallway to clean up, my eyes betrayed me.
Luke's back caught my gaze, broad and strong, every muscle line perfectly emphasized by his soaked shirt. The way he moved—graceful yet powerful—made it impossible to look away.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to turn away, but I wasn't fast enough.
I-seo jabbed me in the side again, making me jump. "I knew it!" she whispered gleefully. "Sena's finally looking at a guy!"
"Stop it!" I snapped, my voice higher than I intended. With panic, I started making things unintended and making myself more obvious for I-seo to tease me this hard.
She grinned, clearly delighted with herself. "You're blushing," she sing-songed. I glared at her as she looked so dreamy holding a map and singing continuously in a Happy birthday tune, "Happy Six pack to me, Happy Six pack to me, Happy Six pack with biceps. Happy Six Pack to me."
"I am not! A-And stop singing something like that!" I shouted out of embarrassment of getting caught. I intentionally pledged in front of her in middle school that I wouldn't look at guys and be interested in them. But, I think the stern or nonchalant side or more accurately, my pretentious side were now broken into pieces.
"You so are. I thank the God that leads me to my sugarplum! Oh my goodness, Sena! Can you imagine I am blessed with those six-pack abs, I doubt it's just six-pack, should I-" I covered her mouth as she started to spew nonsense. I think I know what will be the next word she's gonna say aside from their well-built body.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands as I-seo's laughter rang out, drowning out my protests.
The rest of the night was a blur of chaos. We called a plumber, who informed us he couldn't come until morning. Luke and Amiel insisted on helping clean up, and despite my protests, they mopped the floor and wiped down the counters—though I made them swear off magic for the rest of the night.
By the time the kitchen was mostly dry, my appliances were likely ruined, the smell of kimchi lingered in the air, and I was too exhausted to care.
But as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind kept drifting back to Luke. The image of him standing tall in the kitchen, drenched and silent, had seared itself into my brain.
For the first time, I wasn't just annoyed by him. I noticed him.
And it terrified me.