Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 131: Seoul’s Love Consultant Summit

Chapter 131: Seoul’s Love Consultant Summit

"New city, new rivals, same chaos energy."

The summit venue looked like it had been ripped straight from the set of a glossy K-drama.

The Grand Mirae Center rose against the Seoul skyline like a polished shard of glass, its mirrored façade reflecting sunlight into delicate rainbows. Inside, it was all marble floors, pale birch walls, and towering vertical gardens that climbed five stories high. Gentle streams of water trickled along the sides of the entrance hall, weaving through manicured rock gardens filled with bonsai and clusters of bright azaleas.

Ava’s heels clicked softly as she and Ryan crossed the expansive lobby, Mei trailing behind them like a tiny, linen-suited general.

Everywhere Ava looked, summit staff in sleek black suits zipped around with tablets and earpieces, setting up registration booths draped in silk banners reading:

Seoul’s Love Consultant Summit 2025 – Where Hearts Transcend Borders.

There was an official red carpet leading to the main stage.

There were paparazzi.

There was a damn step-and-repeat backdrop featuring their faces side by side, courtesy of Mei’s pre-approved "Matchmaker Royalty" marketing package.

Ava grabbed Ryan’s arm, hissing under her breath. "Tell me you see that."

Ryan squinted. "That’s... us. On a thirty-foot banner. With a sparkle filter."

Ava groaned into her hand. "We’re living in a fan edit."

He patted her shoulder solemnly. "You married into this chaos."

"I haven’t married anything yet."

Ryan grinned. "Tell that to the Seoul Twitter account currently shipping us under the tag #AvaOppaEndgame."

A summit aide materialized beside them, bowing crisply. "Miss Lee? Mister Kim? This way, please. Opening ceremony is in fifteen minutes."

Ava forced a smile and nodded.

Then turned to Ryan. "If I trip and take out a ceremonial drum on live TV, you’re legally obligated to marry me immediately so it’s a meet-cute instead of a war crime."

Ryan leaned in, voice low and wicked. "You could fall into a koi pond and I’d still marry you."

She bumped his hip as they followed the aide toward the prep area, heart thudding with a mix of excitement and impending doom.

The Prep Room: Where Dignity Goes to Die

The backstage area was pure, high-gloss bedlam.

Stylists darted from person to person wielding combs, powder puffs, and emergency steamer wands. Flower garlands were being flung over decorative pillars. A harried-looking translator chased after an idol matchmaker trying to escape a group photo.

Ava barely had time to take it all in before a summit coordinator descended on her with a garment bag.

"For you, Miss Lee," she chirped, unzipping the bag with a flourish.

Inside was a stunning modern hanbok—blush pink jeogori with delicate silver embroidery of plum blossoms, paired with a flowing ivory chima skirt that shimmered when it caught the light.

Ryan let out a low whistle. "You’re gonna make every K-drama heroine jealous."

Ava flushed, trying to maintain composure as the stylist ushered her behind a partition to change.

Meanwhile, Ryan was handed a sleek, traditional male hanbok in soft grey and navy. He shrugged out of his blazer with casual grace, rolling his shoulders as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Ava peeked once—and immediately yanked the curtain shut with a strangled noise.

"Focus," she muttered. "Professionalism. Dignity."

Ryan chuckled low from the other side. "You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

Dressed and (mostly) composed, Ava stepped out into the light.

The hanbok floated around her, every movement making the delicate silver embroidery dance. A small hair ornament—a silver pin shaped like a sakura bloom—had been tucked into her updo, strands of hair artfully loosened to frame her face.

Ryan was waiting for her, adjusting the dark sash tied around his waist.

When he saw her, his mouth opened—and then closed again without a sound.

Ava raised an eyebrow. "Say it."

"You’re..." He shook his head, a slow grin breaking over his face. "You’re going to destroy every man in this building."

"And you’re going to get us arrested for excessive public fondness," she shot back, but her cheeks warmed under his gaze.

Their moment was shattered when a bell chimed.

"All participants, please proceed to the Main Hall."

Ava took a breath, linked her arm through Ryan’s, and plastered on her best confident smile.

"Let’s go show them what chaos looks like in couture," she whispered.

---

The Main Hall was breathtaking—walls lined with white orchids, massive crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, tables draped in deep navy silk, each centerpiece a miniature cherry blossom tree made of glass.

A hundred pairs of eyes turned as Ava and Ryan entered, stepping onto the plush navy carpet rolled out toward the stage.

Flashbulbs exploded.

Ava kept her smile fixed, feeling Ryan’s hand steady at the small of her back. She counted it out like choreography.

Step. Smile. Bow. Don’t fall.

Right at the foot of the main stage stood two women she recognized instantly from the summit briefing:

Min Seo-jun, celebrity matchmaker to K-pop idols, sleek in an all-black hanbok, hair razor-sharp and makeup flawless.

Madam Choi, older, traditional, dressed in deep maroon, watching everything with the sternness of a general surveying troops.

Min Seo-jun gave Ava a dazzling smile—sharp and competitive beneath the sugar.

Madam Choi simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Ryan leaned in and whispered, "New rivals?"

Ava smiled sweetly and whispered back, "New problems."

The emcee’s voice boomed through the hall, welcoming everyone in crisp Korean and flawless English.

Ava dipped her first formal bow, feeling the weight of the summit’s attention settle over her like a second skin.

This was it.

Seoul was watching.

And she wasn’t about to give them anything less than a show.

---

The applause faded into a polite hum as attendees turned back to their conversations and photo ops. The pressure eased—but only slightly. Ava let herself breathe for the first time since stepping onto the carpet.

Until she spotted the flashing lavender fan bobbing furiously near the back of the hall.

"Oh no," she muttered.

Ryan followed her gaze. His mouth twitched. "Incoming."

Sure enough, Mei and Harold came bustling through the crowd, expertly dodging summit staff, photographers, and a matchmaking robot demo with the agility of two people who had no intention of following protocol.

Mei, in a fresh lemon-yellow hanbok embroidered with cranes, waved the fan like a distress signal. Harold trotted behind her, balancing what appeared to be three separate summit program guides, two cameras, and a packet of emergency snacks.

"Look at you two!" Mei called, voice somehow carrying across the entire ornate hall without a microphone. "Our shining stars! Seoul’s real royal couple!"

Ava buried her face in Ryan’s shoulder for a second. "I’m going to die. Right here. They’ll find my body under a hanbok."

Ryan patted her reassuringly. "You’re radiant. They’re just... the chaotic bonus package."

Mei finally reached them and immediately fussed over Ava’s sleeves, fluffing the chima and straightening invisible wrinkles.

"You look perfect!" she beamed, pressing a kiss to Ava’s cheek. "I could cry. I might cry. Harold, are you filming?"

Harold hastily lifted one of the cameras. "I got the entrance shot! Very cinematic. I might add a dramatic slow-motion effect later."

Ava groaned softly. "Can we not turn this into a fan edit?"

Mei ignored her, turning to Ryan and giving him a critical once-over. She clucked her tongue approvingly. "And you! Oppa Ryan. Very handsome. You could star in a weekend drama."

Ryan flushed and bowed politely. "Thank you, Halmeoni."

Ava blinked.

Ryan never called Mei grandma formally unless he was panicking—or plotting something.

Mei, predictably, teared up immediately. "He called me Halmeoni," she whispered emotionally to Harold. "It’s happening. We’re officially Korean family now."

Harold wiped his nonexistent tears with a program guide.

Ava shot Ryan a sideways look. He shrugged innocently.

"You monster," she muttered affectionately.

Before more public sobbing could occur, a summit aide approached, bowing low. "Miss Lee? Mister Kim? You are invited to the VIP lounge before the opening ceremony begins. Please follow me."

Ava seized the lifeline.

"Love you," she told Mei and Harold quickly, already grabbing Ryan’s hand and tugging him after the aide. "Don’t cause an international incident!"

"Take pictures!" Mei called after them. "And don’t forget—project power couple energy!"

Ryan laughed under his breath as they followed the aide through an elegant side hall. "She says that like it’s a switch we can just turn on."

Ava squeezed his hand. "Good thing we’ve had a lot of practice."

Inside the VIP Lounge

The lounge was somehow even more luxurious than the main hall.

Muted golds and deep forest greens set the tone. Low armchairs and small conversation tables dotted the space, accented with miniature bonsai arrangements and fine pottery tea sets.

Through the windows, they could see the Han River glinting in the distance, its slow, lazy bend slicing through the city like a silver ribbon.

Already gathered inside were the top competitors:

Min Seo-jun, casually sipping a matcha latte like she was born under perfect lighting.

Madam Choi, sitting perfectly still, sipping her tea with the severe grace of an empress.

A handful of other well-dressed, sharp-eyed matchmakers sizing each other up like it was the opening of a fencing tournament.

Ryan slid his hand to the small of Ava’s back. "You ready?"

Ava tilted her chin up, smiling just enough to be dangerous. "Always."

The aide bowed low. "You will be introduced formally when the ceremony begins. Until then, please enjoy refreshments and mingle."

Mingle. Right.

Because what Ava really wanted to do was sip tea and pretend she wasn’t currently radiating low-level mortal terror disguised as professional charm.

Ryan leaned in, voice low against her ear. "Should we tell them we’re secretly spies? Add some mystery?"

Ava smothered a laugh behind her hand. "Only if you introduce yourself as Agent Oppa."

Ryan grinned like the troublemaker he absolutely was.

And just like that, as Ava drifted toward the refreshment table in her shimmering hanbok, ready to meet her rivals face-to-face, she realized something:

This wasn’t just going to be another summit.

This was going to be a warzone.

And honestly?

She couldn’t wait.