Defective Banana - Chapter 9

Ding-dong.

As soon as the doorbell rang, Seohyuk sprang to his feet like he’d been waiting for it and strode straight to the front door instead of the intercom. When he opened it, a familiar face appeared through the crack—and he greeted her with the most charming smile he could muster.

“Baek Ara, welcome!”

Ara froze.

A strange man answering the door at her friend’s house and calling her by name? That was suspicious enough to put her completely on guard.

“Who are you? Do I know you?”

The sharp question didn’t rattle Seohyuk. With the kindest smile he could wear, he gave a polite bow. He had deliberately styled himself today—neatly combed hair, a fitted suit, a smooth voice—all to shed the humiliating image from their last encounter.

“Hello. I’m Kang Seohyuk—the son you met the other day.”

His polite greeting made Ara instinctively return a small bow.

“Ah, right. Hello.”

She’d already suspected it might be him when she saw the suit and tall figure. And now that he confirmed it, it made sense.

Back when they ran into each other, he’d always been in sweatpants and a baseball cap pulled low. She was surprised now to see how presentable—no, striking—he actually looked.

Was this really the same guy?

“Come on in,” he said with a deep, warm voice.

That voice… It definitely sounded like the same person. But now, looking like this, the contrast was jarring. She had to admit, he was almost distractingly handsome like this. Still, this was the same man who’d blurted out on the rooftop that he was impotent and wanted to date her. She had no interest in engaging again.

Without reacting, Ara brushed past him and walked straight into the kitchen.

“Unni, I’m here,” she called out brightly as soon as she saw Donghee.

“Oh! Right on time. I’ve got everything ready—come sit.”

Ara made her way to the table and sat down. A moment later, Seohyuk followed and quietly took the seat across from her, leaning back and staring at her.

Seohyuk couldn’t help feeling a little deflated.

She really didn’t recognize him? A woman in Korea who didn’t know his face was rare—but this woman didn’t show even a flicker of recognition. He had half-expected that once he dressed properly and showed his face, she’d react. Maybe she’d even be impressed. But far from it—she looked uncomfortable, even openly uninterested.

Was she pretending? Or did she genuinely not know him?

He’d acted in over ten films during his seven-year career. His latest project had been to Cannes, and a drama starring him had recently launched on a global OTT platform. Was it really possible she had no idea?

The more he thought about it, the more curious she became.

Trying to draw her attention, he cleared his throat deliberately.

“Ahem.”

Resting his chin lightly on his hand, he turned his face slightly to the side—the angle he knew suited him best—and looked at her with a soft smile.

Ara responded by turning her head completely away, visibly annoyed. But then her face softened as she saw Donghee walk in with the final dish and smiled brightly.

“Unni, why’d you cook so much again?”

Donghee waved her off without missing a beat.

“Don’t nag me. Who do you think is going to eat all this?”

“You’re going to pack up the leftovers and dump them on me again, aren’t you?”

“Of course. What else am I supposed to do—waste perfectly good food?”

“That’s why you should just make less in the first place.”

Donghee ignored her and sat down at the head of the table, glancing at both of them.

“So, did you two properly introduce yourselves?”

Ara’s smile faded. She mumbled flatly, “We said hi earlier.”

Despite the answer, Seohyuk extended a hand across the table with a playful grin.

“It’s really nice to meet you.”

Ara frowned slightly at the unexpected move, but knowing Donghee was watching from the head seat, she forced herself to take his hand.

“Yes. Nice to meet you.”

Donghee, watching the awkward handshake, laughed heartily and waved them on.

“Alright, eat up, both of you. You need to gain some weight. Why is everyone so skinny these days?”

“Unni, I’m not skinny—I’m slim,” Ara corrected instantly.

Donghee scoffed.

“Look at your wrists. Are those even human wrists? How do you even hold a paintbrush?”

Ara just chuckled like she’d heard this a hundred times before. Then she glanced across the table.

Now that she was sitting directly across from him, she got a better look at Kang Seohyuk. And… well, he looked even more handsome than she remembered. Her eyebrows lifted slightly as she studied him more closely.

Jet-black hair brushed neatly to the side, dark eyes deep and calm. A sharp nose, a strong jawline—and unexpectedly soft-looking, full lips that gave a gentler impression to his otherwise cold features.

Huh. So, not just a pervert—he’s a really good-looking pervert.

Just as she was thinking that, their eyes locked. He looked at her steadily, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a quiet smile. A dimple appeared on his cheek, and his gaze—warm, a little playful—was oddly captivating.

Ara quickly looked away.

No matter how stunning that smile was—like it had walked straight out of a cosmetics commercial—she couldn’t forget the rooftop scene. No matter how charming he might look now, she knew better. Underneath that suit was still the same absurd man.

Meanwhile, Donghee had launched into yet another vivid retelling of their trip to Gangwon-do. As usual, she spoke with the enthusiasm of someone reconnecting after years apart, and Ara, who normally didn’t care much for small talk, found herself laughing and nodding.

Seohyuk, quietly picking at his food, kept stealing glances at her.

He had a mission: to convince this woman to give him another chance. And to do that, he needed to understand her. How she thought, what kind of person she was. He watched her carefully while listening to their banter.

Her skin was pale and clear—almost translucent. Her light brown eyes were soft yet unreadable. Long lashes framed slightly upturned eyes, giving her a feline quality. And her lips, flushed like ripe peaches, looked so sweet he could almost imagine what they tasted like.

Just then, their gazes crossed again.

This time, Ara didn’t look away. She held his gaze, almost like she was daring him. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and caution.

Tilting her head slightly, like trying to remember something, she narrowed her eyes.

Where have I seen this guy before…?

She took a sip of water and casually set the cup down, then glanced across the table.

“By the way… what do you do, exactly?”

The question caught Seohyuk mid-sip. He set his glass down and took a moment before replying.

For years, men and women alike had recognized him instantly. But now, sitting across from someone who genuinely didn’t know who he was—it oddly reminded him of the days before he debuted. Strangely enough, he didn’t mind it.

Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, he looked at her and answered calmly,

“I’m an actor.”

“An actor? Like, a movie actor? Oh! So that’s why unni tried to drag me to that film premiere!”

Donghee, seated at the head, smacked Seohyuk on the shoulder and burst out laughing.

“Son! I tried dropping hints to Ara before, but she really had no clue! She didn’t even recognize the movie titles! Ara, I’m telling you—he even went to Cannes!”

Ara blinked in surprise as she looked between the two. Seohyuk smiled kindly, a little embarrassed but still charming.

“I’ve been acting for about seven years now. If you really didn’t recognize me, I guess I need to work harder.”

Ara gave an awkward laugh, clearly flustered.

“Ah… I’m just not really into movies…”

Along with the embarrassment came a strange pang of pity.

So Donghee unni’s son is a famous actor… and also… a perverted guy who said his thing doesn’t work.

As she scratched her cheek awkwardly, Seohyuk raised a hand with a soft, reassuring smile.

“I actually prefer it this way. It’s nice to start without any prejudice.”

His smile reached his eyes, and it was so unexpectedly bright that Ara found herself momentarily stunned. Maybe it was because she now knew he was an actor, but something about that moment suddenly felt cinematic—like a slow-motion shot from a commercial.

And for the first time, Ara didn’t look away.