Chapter 96: Ladybugs and Cream-Sauced Promises

“What, what?”

I flinched, already guilty. Was he mad I’d shut down the coffee meet-up with Jian? But Doyoon said something else.

“You told me you don’t let just anyone in, but you okayed him that easily?”

“Uh?”

He looked genuinely hurt.

“I know you’re mad at me… but treating me like ‘anyone’ while Hwang Yeonseok gets a free pass is too much.”

It took me a second to realize what he meant.

“Because I said he could visit?”

He didn’t answer, but the dark expression confirmed it. Relief washed over me—he wasn’t upset about missing a chance with Jian. My first instinct was to soothe him.

“I only said yes because he was being pushy. I’m not actually inviting him. Why would I? And I’m not mad at you.”

Doyoon’s face softened, just a little.

He seemed to place huge significance on entering my home. Of course, it did mean something… but still.

Back when I’d said “not just anyone,” he’d returned without warning and given no explanation—I’d been furious. Way more than now. He looked at me.

“What about me, then?”

“You…”

I hesitated. Doyoon gave me a pitiful look.

“Can’t we eat at your place today? We bought all the ingredients.”

His determination to seize the day was obvious. I wrestled internally for one second, then nodded silently. A flower-like smile slowly bloomed across his face. He grabbed my hand, eyes intense.

“For real?”

“…Yeah.”

“Thank you, hyung!”

Doyoon beamed like sunshine. I stared blankly. Why so happy over this? The insane thought crossed my mind: if he kept smiling like that, I might just tear the front door off its hinges. He started the car.

“Let’s stop by my place first. Don’t get out—just need to grab something.”

“What?”

“Secret.”

He hummed as he drove. Must be important. We had seasonings at home… but I didn’t question it.

The mart was close to his place, so the detour was quick. The drive from his apartment to mine usually took forty minutes, but today the roads were miraculously clear—like the universe itself was cheering for the excited male lead. We arrived faster than ever.

Doyoon carried all the groceries himself, plus the mystery shopping bag from his place. I offered to help; he insisted he was fine.

The moment I opened my front door, Doyoon let out a soft “Whoa.” I cringed.

“I… didn’t know you were coming, so I didn’t clean properly.”

It wasn’t filthy, but far from spotless. We used to roll around here as kids without a care; now it felt like hosting a guest—awkward and embarrassing.

“It’s… kinda messy.”

But Doyoon wasn’t listening. He scanned the place with nostalgic, almost wistful eyes, then walked straight to the kitchen like he’d been here yesterday. He set the groceries on the table, then headed to his old room—untouched, everything exactly as he’d left it. I trailed after him, fumbling excuses.

“I’ll clean while you cook.”

Suddenly, he spun around, face overflowing with emotion, and hugged me tight. My ribs protested with a squeak.

“Thank you…”

“For what?”

“I thought you’d thrown all my stuff out.”

My face burned. Flashbacks of daily dusting and sweeping—just in case he came back—flickered through my mind. Being caught longing so openly was mortifying. I started to deny it, then gave up and said softly, “You know… then be good to me.”

“Yes.”

He buried his face in my shoulder, holding on. Slowly, I raised a hand and stroked his back. It had been forever. He let out a happy little “Heehee.” I smiled too—grateful the hug hid my expression.

Then my stomach growled. Doyoon pulled back with an “Oops,” looking slightly regretful. He headed to the kitchen, then handed me the shopping bag.

“Housewarming gift. Open it.”

“…When did you prepare this?”

“Was going to give it if you came to my place today, but this is even more meaningful.”

Confused but excited, I opened it. My eyes widened.

“You… this…”

“You said you wanted it back then.”

It was the ladybug-shaped robot vacuum we’d picked out together when we first moved in. I stared, a deflated laugh escaping. “How’d you get it? It’s discontinued—stores don’t carry it.”

“Pulled some strings.”

Suddenly, I remembered: right after the sports day, Jian bragging about selling a robot vacuum at top price on Hongdangmu Market. My eyes shot to Doyoon.

“Wait—the sports day…?”

“…I paid full price. Don’t worry.”

Full price—meaning way overpriced.

Learning Jian’s sucker was Doyoon felt… weird. I wanted to scold and praise him. Contradictory as hell.

“…For me?”

“You said you wanted it.”

He hesitated, then added, “There’s one more thing. Look all the way.”

I dug deeper. Out came a tiny, ornate jewelry box—proposal-level fancy. I opened it; something dazzling flashed.

A thumb-sized ladybug gem, with a separate leather strap for attachment. My eyes nearly popped.

“What is this?”

“Car keychain.”

That’s not the question. What is it made of? Why does it sparkle like a supernova?

“Had it custom-made at a place I know. Took a while to source red and black diamonds, but it’s not that expensive—just take it as my sincerity.”

I went blank. Dia—what now?

Isn’t this reckless spending?

This could buy several of the cars sitting unused at the family estate. A keychain pricier than the car… I stared, stunned.

“Isn’t this too much?”

“I held back.”

He smiled. But seeing my dazed face, he looked anxious. “Don’t like the design?”

“No! No—it’s perfect. Prettiest thing ever. Thank you.”

Billions won—obviously gorgeous. From now on, ladybugs are my favorite.

“I know material gifts don’t mean much to you, but I wanted to express my feelings as best I could.”

Too much meaning. So much I forgot I was starving. Doyoon smiled shyly.

“Actually… I wanted to get a ring.”

He sneaked a glance at my reaction. I pretended not to hear.

“Th-thanks. I’ll treasure it. Shall we eat?”

He looked slightly disappointed but nodded. I tried helping in the kitchen; he sincerely begged me to just sit—that was helping. I sat, awkward.

By the time the food was ready, it was past 2 p.m. I was dying of hunger. Doyoon presented a cream pasta topped with premium double-plus Hanwoo sirloin, plated like a hotel chef. Five-star visuals. The steaming, freshly made pasta was insanely good. I said seriously, “You’ve gotten even better at cooking.”

“Good?”

“No joke.”

He watched me eat, beaming, then said, “Pairs perfectly with red wine.”

I stood reflexively—“Oh, nice.”—then remembered. “Wait… you drove.”

Doyoon looked at me, hesitated, then asked, “Can I… stay the night?”