MTA 01

Chapter : 1

Paris, France.

Charles de Gaulle International Airport.

A woman with porcelain-white skin paused, holding a large phone in her hand.
Her eyes were smiling, but her lips were not—judging by her expression, it was clearly an unpleasant call.

“Haha. I can’t believe I’m talking to you over something so ridiculous, Reporter Kim! You know how Ayeon is. You really think she’d be cursing in a department store? That’s disappointing~ Oh, okay, fine.”

With her long hair tied back and a suitcase bigger than her own body in tow, Haein looked flustered as she handled yet another incoming call.

She was already used to people treating her not as an actress anymore, but merely as a manager—or at best, a staff member who fed them information about the entertainment industry.
Even now, when she was in a rush, the fact that the person on the other end refused to hang up was making her uneasy.

Let’s just calm them down and hang up quickly.

Haein kept her voice cheerful.
“Come on. That wasn’t her, probably one of the staff who was with her. You know how people love to twist things. Right, right. Okay, I’ll buy you drinks. Just hold off on that article, and I’ll give you a really good scoop once I’m back in Korea! Yes, yes, I’ll hang up now!”

Ugh, seriously. What the hell did she say this time…

Haein glared at her phone, frustration all over her face.

While she was away, a video had surfaced of her actress—Baek Ayeon—cursing inside a department store. Reporters she knew had been calling nonstop since then, leaving her no room to think straight.

Stepping outside the terminal, she frowned as the soft drizzle hit her face.
Her eyes, barely visible above her mask, were filled with discomfort.

Just great. Rain, now?

In a hurry, Haein shrugged off her outer coat and covered her suitcase with it.
She didn’t care if she got soaked—but the item she’d flown from Korea to Paris to deliver couldn’t get wet. Ayeon would have her head.

After tightly wrapping the suitcase, she pulled her phone from her jeans pocket.
A message from Ayeon flashed across the screen—its tone was dripping with irritation.

How does she always know the exact moment I land? She’s like a damn psychic.

[Yoon Haein, where are you?]
[Unni, I just landed.]
[Be here in 30 minutes. If you don’t have the outfit, I’m not filming the next scene.]

Ha…

Suppressing a sigh, Haein quickly opened the Uber app.
With a few familiar taps, a list of nearby cars popped up.

“Let’s see… Bastille Square… Got one.”

[ZY 2841 XX]

Confirming the license plate, Haein began walking briskly toward where her ride was supposed to stop.
She knew from experience that if she arrived late, Baek Ayeon really would refuse to shoot the next scene.

Baek Ayeon—
One of South Korea’s top actresses under the biggest entertainment company, AJ Entertainment.
No one in the agency dared say no to her.

But being a top star didn’t mean she had a top-tier personality.
Off-camera, she had zero anger control and did whatever she pleased.
If Haein ignored her summon, she’d probably have Haein’s things boxed up and kicked out of the company by morning.

That was why Haein had caught a dawn flight all the way to Paris.

Checking her phone, Haein’s expression faltered.
A notification popped up—“Ride canceled. Unable to locate passenger.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she glanced at her watch.
“I really can’t be late…”

She rushed out to the street, hoping to flag down a taxi—when suddenly, a familiar license plate came into view.

ZY 284… that’s the one!

Her eyes lit up.
The car looked way too nice for a part-time Uber driver, but who cared?
What mattered was that she’d found her ride.

Smiling in relief, Haein dashed forward, checked the front of the plate, and threw herself in front of the car.

“Stop! Stop! Please!”

* * *

“What the hell…”

Just as he was driving past the airport exit, Dojun frowned at the sight of a woman spreading her arms to block his car.
Asian, from the looks of it.
She was standing there in the light Parisian rain, soaked and panting.

Before he could even speak, the woman yanked open the back door and shoved her enormous suitcase inside. Then, without hesitation, she climbed into the passenger seat and looked at him as if he were the one being weird.

“I’m so sorry. I know you canceled the call. But I’m really busy right now!”
She spoke in quick, fluent English, fastening her seat belt like she’d done this a hundred times.

“Could you please go to the address I gave you earlier? Of course, I’ll pay you!”

…What?

Dojun stared at her, utterly baffled.
Did this woman seriously think he was her Uber driver?

Seeing his blank look, Haein tilted her head, flustered.
“Ah… you don’t speak English? Are you Japanese?”

“I’m Korean.”

“Oh.”

Her face flushed red instantly.
The man’s expression didn’t change—cold and unreadable.
After a moment, he spoke in a low, calm voice, the kind that carried no warmth.

“Get out.”

The words were simple, blunt.
Something about the way her big eyes blinked up at him felt strangely familiar—familiar, yet foreign.

“I—I’m sorry, but…”

“I think you’ve misunderstood. I’m a tourist, not a driver. Please get out.”

Tourist?
Haein stared at him in confusion. The license plate was definitely the one she’d been assigned.

But embarrassment wasn’t the worst thing on her mind—Ayeon’s wrath was.
If she was late, she was dead. So she swallowed her pride and spoke quickly.

“I’m really sorry, but since you’re Korean—please, I’m begging you. My Uber got canceled, and I have to get to Bastille Square right now. There’s no time to call another ride. Please help me.”

Just thinking about Ayeon made her chest tighten.
She had less than 25 minutes left.

If she was even a minute late… she didn’t want to imagine what would happen.

“Bastille Square?”

At the familiar destination, a hint of curiosity flickered across Dojun’s face.
He was headed that way himself.

The woman next to him looked like she might burst into tears any second.
He wasn’t the type to offer help to strangers—but ignoring those desperate eyes somehow felt worse.

“…Coincidentally, that’s where I’m going too. I’ll take you.”

“R-really? Oh, thank you so much!”

Her relief was so pure that even Dojun couldn’t help glancing at her in disbelief.
Her face, which had been tight with anxiety, finally softened into a bright, grateful smile.

RRR—

As the car started moving, her phone rang again.
Haein snatched it up immediately.

• Yoon Haein, where the hell are you?

“Yes, unni! I’m on my way right now! I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

• How many times do I have to tell you to hurry! I’m getting pissed. You better get here before I blow up the set. I swear, I’ll walk out of this shoot!

“Ah, unni, please! I flew all the way from Korea to Paris—you wouldn’t really blow it up, right? I’ll be there soon, don’t be mad!”

By the time she hung up, Haein looked exhausted, wiping the sweat off her brow.

Dojun, having overheard the conversation, gave her a curious look.
“So you’re not going to Bastille Square for sightseeing, I take it?”