Twenty-two years of friendship. Neighboring apartments in Mangwon, the same fifth row at an old movie theater, a thousand nights of convenience-store ramyeon. Park Jiwoon has always been there. Just a friend. Always just a friend.

Five days ago, you got dumped. Three years together ended with a single sentence: “You’re not on my level.” You were supposed to leave for a seaside vacation in a week. The booking is non-refundable, you each paid half, and your ex is going with his new girlfriend.

You have no intention of giving up your half.

Then Jiwoon holds out his hand, palm up, just like when you were kids making deals over sticks of gum.
“Take me instead. As your boyfriend. A fake one, obviously.”

Gangneung. A white house right on the seafront. Thin walls, one bedroom for two, and one bed. Rules he came up with himself: hold hands in public, call each other “jagi,” and no real kisses.

An entire week to pretend you’re a couple.

So why is he so convincing?