For a moment, silence filled the kitchen.
Neither of us spoke.
Then—
"So," he finally said, breaking it, "you weren't lying when you said you knock plates down all the time."
I stiffened.
"And when you said you always cut your hands…" He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm guessing this is a new arm you got yourself, right?"
I had absolutely nothing to say to that.
So I just glared at him.
"Where is my phone?" I snapped. "You're leaving. Right now."
"Your phone is off, remember?" he replied calmly.
"Ugh!" I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "The plates fell because I got shocked. And—I'm pretty sure I heard you say you wanted to cook."
"I did," he said simply.
"No." I raised a hand immediately. "Please don't cook."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because if you cook…" I pointed at him dramatically, "…I'll go to jail."
"…What?"
As he reached for the knife on the chopping board, I quickly grabbed his wrist.
"Please," I said, my tone suddenly serious. "I'm still young. I don't want to go to jail."
His brows furrowed. "Why would you go to jail?"
"Have you forgotten you're famous?" I shot back. "And not just a little famous—you're known worldwide. If people find out some random girl made the great Minho cook…"
I placed a hand on my chest. "Won't they arrest me?"
I didn't stop there.
"Even my best friend Yuna would arrest me."
I paused, then added thoughtfully, "Actually… I think I'd arrest myself too."
I looked straight at him. "Do you really want to see me go to jail?"
He sighed, clearly about to speak—but I cut him off.
"I wouldn't survive in prison," I rushed. "I heard on the news that you have a kind heart. Someone like you wouldn't let an innocent girl suffer…"
I pointed at the knife again. "…so don't cook."
He stared at me for a moment.
"…Can I talk now?"
"You may speak," I said with a nod.
"Do you have cameras in your apartment?"
"Nope."
"And it's just the two of us here?"
"Yes…"
He nodded slowly. "Then if you don't tell anyone… would I?"
Oh.
Ohhh.
That… actually made sense.
If I don't talk, he won't either.
"Wait!" I said quickly, raising a finger. "I don't trust you."
He blinked.
"Let's pinky promise," I continued seriously. "Just in case your memory comes back and you remember today—you won't hold me accountable. Deal?"
A small smile appeared on his face. "Deal."
We hooked our pinkies together, sealing it.
Then I heard him mutter under his breath—
"Child…"
My eyes narrowed immediately. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," he replied smoothly.
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
I dragged a stool over and sat down, crossing my legs as I watched him start cooking.
The famous Minho… in my kitchen.
Honestly…
You wouldn't find this kind of entertainment anywhere else.
Ahh…
What luck.