That day, Seoul was in a state of mild existential crisis.
The sky hung low with clouds, drizzle fell with no intention of stopping, and the air hovered just above freezing—
a perfect reflection of the love lives of long-term singles.
Among them...
was a young man who had just stepped off an intercity bus.
His clothes were rumpled, his suitcase looked like it had survived both world wars, and his hair?
Let's just say it appeared to have lost a wrestling match with a tornado.
His name? Tang Chen.
Also known as: The Strange Man from Who-Knows-Where, currently smiling at nothing in the middle of the rain, mumbling:
> "Seoul, I have arrived. Ready to find true love… and perhaps, some meal discounts."
Make no mistake—this was no ordinary traveler.
Tang Chen was the sole heir of the illustrious Tang family, culinary royalty whose legendary recipes were said to bring grown men to tears—and presidents to their knees—for just one spoonful of soup.
But today?
He was merely a mystery man with one worn suitcase, one oversized jacket, and one life mission:
To find a woman who would love him sincerely.
Not for his wealth, not for his last name…
But for his fried rice.
(Or more accurately, his heart. But the rice helps.)
---
He wandered into a narrow alley, turned right, then left (after getting hopelessly lost five times), until he arrived at a rather tired-looking boarding house.
A weathered wooden sign dangled loosely from its hinges:
TRANQUIL HARMONY BOARDING HOUSE
Gentlemen only. No curfew. No nonsense.
A woman appeared, her expression flat and her hair pinned up with the discipline of a librarian who had seen too much.
> "Can I help you?"
"I need a room. The cheapest you've got."
"We have one. It's next to the restroom."
"Excellent. Emergency-friendly."
She blinked, unimpressed.
Tang Chen responded with a dazed smile, like someone who'd mistaken a rice cooker for a microwave at 3 a.m.
---
His room was small.
Not just "tiny apartment" small, but "blink and you're touching the wall" small.
Still, he was content.
Because life isn't about square footage—it's about emotional real estate. Profound, no?
Sadly, his moment of inner peace was shattered by a sharp, theatrical shriek from the neighboring room:
> "WHO COOKS WITH THAT MUCH GARLIC?! I CAN'T BREATHE!"
Ah yes. The next-door neighbor.
Her voice could cut glass.
Her name: Yoon Haejin.
An art student. Loves painting, hates strong smells.
Beautiful? Extremely.
Short-tempered? Even more so.
Tang Chen grinned to himself. "Adorable voice… like an angry violin."
---
Feeling hungry, Tang Chen retrieved a tiny rice cooker from his battle-worn suitcase.
What followed was nothing short of culinary wizardry.
He poured in budget-brand rice, tossed in dried mushrooms from the inner pocket of his jacket (yes, really), and added hot water borrowed from the landlady's communal dispenser.
His left hand moved with elegance, mixing herbs and spices like a man conducting an orchestra of flavor.
Within fifteen minutes, the scent of deliciousness began seeping through the entire house.
> "Do you smell that?"
"Yeah. Mushroom rice? But like… from heaven. Who's the genius chef?!"
Curiosity spread like wildfire.
Even Haejin—the garlic-hating neighbor—was suddenly silent.
She hovered in front of Tang Chen's door, sniffing the air like a gourmet bloodhound.
> "Impossible... This isn't the work of an amateur."
The door creaked open.
Inside, a charming man in a faded hoodie stirred rice like it was a national treasure.
---
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Tang Chen tasted his creation.
"Mmm… Divine mushroom rice. Even if the grains are as hard as gravel."
Then—BANG!
His door was kicked open.
Haejin stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, eyes wide with disbelief.
> "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO MADE THIS?!"
Tang Chen turned slowly and offered a gentle smile.
> "Yes. Would you like to try it?"
"If you don't like it, you can return it… along with my heart."
Haejin blinked.
Had this strange man just flirted with her?
He handed her a warm bowl of rice.
> "But be careful," he said with a wink.
"One bite… and you might fall in love."