The Choi residence didn't look like a place where people argued over instant noodles.
It was a high-end apartment in one of the richest districts in Seoul—floor-to-ceiling glass windows, a skyline view that looked like it belonged in a luxury magazine, marble floors that reflected light like water.
The kind of place where you'd expect silence.
Elegance.
Maybe a butler.
Instead—
"Why is there no food in this house?!"
Choi Geon stood in the middle of the designer kitchen, staring into the fridge like it had personally betrayed him.
There was almond milk.
Three types of vitamins.
Imported fruit.
But nothing that felt like real food.
"…this is a scam," he muttered.
He had gotten home early.
As always.
His school ended first.
His sister? College. Unpredictable timing.
His brother? A celebrity. Basically a rare Pokémon that only appeared between 7 to 9 PM.
Which meant—
For the next few hours—
Geon was the king of the house.
A very hungry king.
He sighed, grabbed a packet from the cabinet, and accepted his fate.
Ramen.
The universal solution to emotional and physical hunger.
Water boiled.
Steam rose.
The apartment, for a brief moment, felt… alive.
Just as he dropped the noodles in—
Beep.
The front door unlocked.
Geon blinked.
"…that was fast."
He turned slightly as footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Then—
Choi Ha-Niel appeared.
And immediately—
Something felt off.
She wasn't on her phone.
She wasn't multitasking.
She wasn't talking.
She just… walked in.
Quiet.
Geon narrowed his eyes.
"…you look like someone just failed a final exam."
Ha-Niel dropped her bag on the chair.
"Worse."
She sniffed the air.
"…is that ramen?"
Geon turned back to the pot.
"Yes. My ramen. For me. Myself. My personal emotional support system."
She walked past him.
Sat down.
Then, without even looking at him—
"Make one for me too."
Geon froze.
Slowly turned his head.
"…make your own."
"No."
"I'm not your chef."
"You're already cooking."
"That doesn't mean I adopt responsibilities."
"Geon."
"What?"
"Add another packet."
He stared at her.
She stared at nothing.
A silent battle.
One that had happened a thousand times before.
"…you're unbelievable," he muttered.
But—
Two minutes later—
Another packet went into the pot.
They ate at the kitchen island.
No music.
No phones.
Just the quiet sound of noodles and thoughts.
Geon glanced at her.
"…so what happened?"
Ha-Niel didn't answer immediately.
She stared at her bowl.
Then—
"CEO Park has a five-year plan."
Geon paused mid-bite.
"…what?"
"She wants to lock Oppa into back-to-back global projects. Hollywood. International films. No breaks. No dating."
Geon blinked.
"Wait… like… no life?"
"Exactly."
The ramen suddenly didn't taste the same.
Geon leaned back slightly.
"…but he already works like crazy."
"I know."
"He just started coming home on a more regular schedule."
"I know."
"And now she wants to make it worse?"
Ha-Niel nodded slowly.
Her grip on the chopsticks tightened just a little.
"If this starts… he won't have a life for five years, Geon."
Five years.
That number sat heavy between them.
Geon looked away.
"…he'll be thirty-seven."
Ha-Niel didn't respond.
Because that was the problem.
Silence filled the kitchen again.
But this time—
It wasn't peaceful.
The TV in the living room was still on.
Muted.
But visible.
And right there—
On a massive screen—
Was their brother.
Choi Do-Yun.
Perfect posture.
Perfect expression.
Perfect life.
Geon stared at it.
"…he looks tired."
Ha-Niel followed his gaze.
"…he always does."
They moved to the living room.
Bowls still in hand.
Like two generals who had accidentally started a war.
Ha-Niel grabbed the remote and increased the volume slightly.
An interview.
Do-Yun was answering calmly.
Politely.
Like always.
"Oppa," the host said, smiling brightly, "do you have any plans for marriage?"
Geon choked on his ramen.
Ha-Niel froze.
On the screen—
Do-Yun smiled faintly.
"Not at the moment. Work is my priority."
The answer was perfect.
Too perfect.
Geon leaned forward.
"…he didn't even think about it."
Ha-Niel's voice was quiet.
"He doesn't let himself."
The city lights reflected against the glass windows.
The apartment looked beautiful.
Luxurious.
Empty.
Ha-Niel placed her bowl down.
"We need to talk to him."
Geon nodded immediately.
"Tonight."
"If we don't—"
She stopped.
Then said it anyway.
"…we'll make him marry."
Geon blinked.
"…that sounds illegal."
"I'm serious."
"You're always serious, that's the problem."
She turned to him.
Eyes sharp.
Focused.
The strategist was back.
"He gave up everything for us," she said.
"His twenties. His life. His choices."
Geon looked at the TV again.
At the man who raised him.
At the man who still brought home food at midnight.
"…yeah," he muttered.
Ha-Niel leaned forward.
"If he won't choose happiness…"
She tapped the table lightly.
"…we'll choose it for him."
Geon stared at her.
Then slowly—
A grin appeared.
Not confident.
Not smart.
Just… chaotic.
"…this sounds like a terrible idea."
"It is."
"I'm in."
And just like that—
Without strategy.
Without a plan.
Without even finishing their ramen—
Project: New Mom quietly began.
Outside, the city shined.
Inside, two siblings declared war.
And somewhere—
Unaware.
Unbothered.
Completely unprepared—
Choi Do-Yun was about to walk into it.