I Didn't Order a Boyfriend!

Yoon Ha-ri had three rules for surviving adulthood.

Rule number one: Never trust a man who says he is different from other men.

Rule number two: Never go on a blind date arranged by your best friend.

Rule number three: If rules one and two failed, order dessert and pretend the entire experience was a social experiment.

Unfortunately, Ha-ri had broken all three rules before eight o'clock on a Friday evening.

She sat across from a man named Kim Seung-ho, who had spent the last twenty minutes taking pictures of his food.

Not one picture.

Not five.

Twenty.

He had photographed his steak from the front, the side, and an angle Ha-ri suspected required a photography degree.

Then he'd adjusted his fork, moved his glass of water three centimeters to the left, and taken another picture.

Ha-ri watched him with the expression of a woman slowly watching her life flash before her eyes.

“So,” she said, trying to sound interested, “what do you do for fun?”

Seung-ho didn't look up.

“Investments.”

“Oh. Interesting.”

He tapped his phone screen.

“And you?”

“I bake.”

“That's nice.”

Click.

Another picture.

Ha-ri looked at his phone.

Then at her own untouched plate.

Then at the ceiling, silently asking the universe why it had created people like this.

She had dressed up for this.

She had spent forty minutes deciding between two outfits, fifteen minutes fixing her hair, and another ten convincing herself that maybe, just maybe, her best friend knew what she was doing.

Min-seo had described Seung-ho as handsome, successful, polite, and emotionally available.

So far, Ha-ri had only confirmed that he owned a phone.

A very active phone.

“Do you like cooking?” she tried again.

“I prefer restaurants.”

“Right. Because someone else does the cooking.”

He finally looked up.

“Exactly.”

Ha-ri smiled.

It was the kind of smile people wore when they were trying very hard not to scream in public.

“Wonderful.”

Seung-ho returned to his food.

Ha-ri's phone vibrated beside her glass.

She glanced down.

CHOI MIN-SEO: HOW'S THE DATE???

Ha-ri typed beneath the table.

YOON HA-RI: I think he's in a committed relationship.

CHOI MIN-SEO: WHAT???

YOON HA-RI: With his phone.

Three dots appeared immediately.

CHOI MIN-SEO: GIRL, GIVE HIM A CHANCE.

Ha-ri glanced across the table.

Seung-ho was now photographing his dessert.

YOON HA-RI: He's taking pictures of the cake like it owes him money.

CHOI MIN-SEO: At least he's documenting the occasion.

Ha-ri nearly choked on her water.

Then another message arrived.

CHOI MIN-SEO: RUN. HE JUST ASKED IF YOU COME WITH A WARRANTY.

Ha-ri froze.

Slowly, she raised her head.

Seung-ho had put his phone down at last. He was studying her with a thoughtful expression.

“So, Ha-ri,” he said, “your friend mentioned you want to open a café someday.”

Her face brightened a little.

“Yes! I've been saving for it. I want a cozy place where people can enjoy fresh pastries and really good coffee. Somewhere that feels like home.”

He nodded.

“Ambitious.”

“Thank you.”

A short pause followed.

Then he asked, “And what would happen if the business failed?”

Ha-ri blinked.

“I'd probably cry.”

He laughed once, as though she'd made a joke.

She hadn't.

“I mean,” he continued, “a woman should be realistic. Opening a business is risky. You might be better off finding a stable job and a husband who can provide.”

Ha-ri stared at him.

There it was.

The final nail in the coffin of a date that had never truly been alive.

“A husband who can provide?” she repeated.

“Of course. Marriage is a practical arrangement, too. A woman shouldn't make life unnecessarily difficult for herself.”

Ha-ri looked down at her plate.

She imagined her dream café. The little tables by the windows. The smell of cinnamon rolls in the morning. The customers who would become regulars. The sign above the door with her chosen name on it.

Then she imagined spending the rest of her life listening to this man explain why her dreams were inconvenient.

Absolutely not.

She picked up her phone and began typing.

YOON HA-RI: MIN-SEO. I AM GOING TO END OUR FRIENDSHIP.

CHOI MIN-SEO: WHY??? WHAT HAPPENED???

Ha-ri glanced at Seung-ho, who was checking the pictures he'd taken.

YOON HA-RI: HE JUST EXPLAINED WHY I NEED A HUSBAND MORE THAN A BUSINESS PLAN.

Min-seo's reply arrived instantly.

CHOI MIN-SEO: RUN!!!

Ha-ri didn't need to be told twice.

She grabbed her bag and stood so quickly that her chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Seung-ho looked up.

“Is something wrong?”

“I'm so sorry,” she said, already stepping away from the table. “There's been a family emergency.”

His expression changed.

“Oh. Is everything all right?”

“No idea!”

She bowed awkwardly.

“I'll contact you later!”

Then she hurried toward the exit.

She made it all the way outside before stopping to catch her breath.

The evening air had never felt so beautiful.

Ha-ri leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

“Never again.”

Her phone rang.

Min-seo.

Ha-ri answered immediately.

“If you say I should give him another chance, I'm blocking you.”

“First of all, hello to you, too,” Min-seo said. “Second, what happened?”

“What happened is that your supposedly handsome, successful, emotionally available man spent half the date taking pictures of his food and the other half explaining why women shouldn't have dreams.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

“Was he at least handsome?”

Ha-ri opened her eyes.

“Min-seo.”

“I'm asking a reasonable question.”

“He was handsome enough to make me question my judgment for approximately four minutes.”

“And then?”

“Then he opened his mouth.”

Min-seo burst out laughing.

Ha-ri could hear her friend moving around in the background.

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.”

“You will.”

“I'll buy you cake.”

Ha-ri stopped walking.

“What kind?”

“Chocolate.”

“From the good bakery?”

“Yes.”

“With extra cream?”

“Ha-ri!”

“I'm recovering from emotional damage. Details matter.”

Min-seo sighed dramatically.

“Fine. Extra cream.”

Ha-ri smiled for the first time that evening.

“That's why you're my best friend.”

“Because I buy you cake?”

“Because you understand me.”

“Those are basically the same thing.”

They ended the call, and Ha-ri headed home with one thought firmly planted in her mind.

She was done with blind dates.

For the foreseeable future, men could stay exactly where they belonged.

Far away from her peace.

And preferably away from her dessert.

---

By the time Ha-ri got home, she'd changed into an oversized T-shirt, tied her hair into a messy bun, and placed a generous slice of chocolate cake on the table.

The cake was from Min-seo, who had delivered it with a dramatic apology and strict instructions not to eat it while angry.

Ha-ri had ignored the instructions.

She was currently eating it while angry.

Her apartment was small, cozy, and cluttered with the little things she loved: recipe books, baking utensils, and a notebook filled with café ideas. A sketch of her dream café hung above her desk, held in place with two pieces of tape.

She looked at it while taking another bite of cake.

“One day,” she promised herself. “You and me. A real café. No ridiculous husbands required.”

Her phone buzzed.

An advertisement appeared on the screen.

PERFECT PAIR

Curious about your ideal match?

Take our FREE personality quiz and discover the kind of person who complements you best!

Ha-ri narrowed her eyes.

“No.”

The advertisement remained.

Your perfect match might be closer than you think.

She took another bite of cake.

“Absolutely not.”

The advertisement changed.

No pressure. Just a little fun.

Ha-ri paused.

A free personality quiz.

That wasn't dating. It was research.

She was a curious person. A scientist of human foolishness. There was no harm in discovering what kind of man an app believed was suitable for her.

Besides, the last man she'd met had treated a plate of steak like the love of his life.

The bar was on the floor.

She downloaded the app.

“Just the quiz,” she told herself. “Five minutes, and then I'm deleting it.”

The app opened with cheerful colors and an interface designed to make people feel as though happiness was only a few taps away.

Ha-ri answered the questions.

What quality do you value most in a partner?

“Humor,” she murmured, selecting it.

What is your ideal date?

“Good food. Easy conversation. Nobody asking whether I come with a warranty.”

She selected A cozy dinner.

What kind of relationship are you looking for?

Ha-ri hesitated.

Then she selected Something genuine.

The next screen appeared.

YOUR RESULTS ARE READY!

Underneath was a bright button.

UNLOCK YOUR PERSONAL MATCH

Ha-ri frowned.

“Unlock?”

She tapped it.

Another screen appeared.

PREMIUM BOYFRIEND EXPERIENCE

Meet a compatible partner selected just for you!

Enjoy personalized dates, thoughtful gestures, and a premium matchmaking experience.

Below the description was a price.

Ha-ri's eyes widened.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

She searched for a small X in the corner.

Nothing.

She tapped the back button.

The screen changed again.

CONFIRM YOUR EXPERIENCE

There were several lines of tiny text, two buttons, and an enthusiastic little heart animation.

Ha-ri squinted at the screen.

“Why is everything written in a font size meant for ants?”

She tried to go back again.

Her finger landed on the bright confirmation button.

The screen flashed.

A cheerful chime sounded.

WELCOME TO PERFECT PAIR PREMIUM!

Ha-ri stopped chewing.

Her eyes moved slowly from the screen to the cake.

Then back to the screen.

“No.”

Another notification appeared.

Your Premium Boyfriend Experience has been successfully booked!

“No, no, no.”

She tapped the screen frantically.

“Undo. Undo! Where's the undo button?”

The app displayed a smiling heart.

Ha-ri stared at it with pure hatred.

“Don't smile at me. You have stolen my peace.”

She tried to cancel the subscription, but the confirmation page informed her that her booking had already been processed and that cancellation was subject to the service's terms.

She read the message three times.

Then she placed her phone face down on the table.

For five peaceful seconds, she said nothing.

Finally, she picked it up again.

“Maybe it's not that bad.”

The phone buzzed.

YOUR MATCH HAS BEEN CONFIRMED!

Ha-ri's mouth fell open.

A profile appeared on the screen.

KANG JI-WON, 29

His photograph showed a man in a perfectly tailored suit, with neatly styled hair, sharp features, and the sort of expression that suggested he had never made an embarrassing decision in his entire life.

Ha-ri stared.

Then she zoomed in.

Then she zoomed out.

Then she zoomed in again.

“Oh, come on.”

The man was ridiculously handsome.

It was offensive.

It was unnecessary.

It was suspicious.

“Why does he look like he owns three companies and has never burned toast?”

She read the profile.

Profession: Marketing director.

Interests: Reading, fine dining, business strategy.

Personality: Disciplined, dependable, detail-oriented.

Ha-ri lowered her phone.

“Detail-oriented?”

She remembered the bookshelf she'd assembled incorrectly. The laundry she'd forgotten in the washing machine for two days. The cake crumbs scattered across her notebook.

This man would probably have a meeting about her life.

Her phone chimed again.

She picked it up with trembling fingers.

YOUR FIRST MEETING IS CONFIRMED.

Your boyfriend arrives tomorrow at 7:00 p.m.

Ha-ri stopped breathing.

Tomorrow.

Seven.

P.M.

She read the notification again, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something sensible.

They did not.

She looked around her apartment.

The laundry basket overflowed beside the wardrobe. A baking tray sat in the sink. Three mugs occupied the coffee table, and a half-finished sketch of her café was tucked beneath a stack of bills.

She looked down at her oversized T-shirt.

Then at her phone.

Then at the handsome stranger smiling from the screen.

“I don't even have matching socks.”

The app responded with another cheerful notification.

Thank you for choosing Perfect Pair! We can't wait for you to meet your perfect match.

Ha-ri slowly lowered herself into the chair.

Somewhere in Seoul, a perfectly organized man named Kang Ji-won was preparing for a scheduled meeting with a woman he had never met.

And that woman was currently considering moving to another country.

She took one final bite of cake.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered, “I'm deleting the internet.”