Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 138: Korean Bathhouse Emergency

Chapter 138: Korean Bathhouse Emergency

"Nothing says romance like almost dying in steam together."

The jjimjilbang was supposed to be relaxing.

After three days of matchmaking chaos, accidental proposals, and trending hashtags, Mei had practically shoved a spa brochure into Ava’s hand and declared, "Go sweat out the viral fame before you combust."

Ava hadn’t argued.

A bathhouse sounded... nice. Peaceful. A rare few hours off-grid.

And Ryan?

He’d grinned like a man handed a backstage pass to her tension.

"Hot steam. Minimal clothing. Sounds like a team-building exercise."

Now, Ava stood barefoot in the women’s locker room, wrapped in a paper-thin robe that smelled faintly of herbal soap and eucalyptus.

She glanced down at the floor map.

Three saunas. One co-ed salt room. A shared rooftop cooling pool.

So far, so manageable.

---

Meanwhile, Ryan adjusted the ridiculous towel twist on his head — how was everyone in Korea so good at making it look dignified?

He looked like a croissant.

Still, he had to admit — this place was magic.

Warm floors. Muted lighting.

A subtle herbal scent wafting through every hallway.

He wandered through the steam hall, half-relaxed, half-scanning for Ava.

Co-ed salt room, she said, he remembered.

Down the hall. Left. Blue tile door.

He opened it.

It was very much not the salt room.

---

Ava stepped into the same sauna just minutes later from the opposite entrance — the door had been mislabeled in English, a flipped sign from cleaning rotation.

Thick, warm mist immediately closed around her like a velvet curtain.

The only sound: the low hiss of steam.

She padded in cautiously, tugging her robe tighter.

"Hello?" she whispered.

No answer.

She took two more steps—

—and nearly tripped over a very familiar pair of long legs.

Ryan was half-reclined on the top bench, eyes closed, head tipped back, chest glistening slightly with sweat.

Ava froze.

He opened one eye.

"...Wrong room?" he said lazily.

"Definitely wrong room," she breathed.

But she didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The heat was ridiculous.

The steam curled between them like silk threads — thick and hazy, and suddenly Ava was very aware of how damp her robe was getting. And how close Ryan’s mouth was. And how this definitely wasn’t regulation summit recovery protocol.

"I should go," she said.

"You could," he said, sitting up slowly, voice molasses-low. "Or..."

"Or?" she challenged.

"Or we could pretend it’s a private matchmaking experiment. Compatibility through shared overheating."

Ava burst out laughing.

"You’re impossible."

Ryan stood — stood — tall and bare-chested and entirely too smug, and took a step toward her.

Ava backed up instinctively — straight into the wall.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t touch her.

Just leaned one hand on the stone beside her head, trapping her in that sauna heat and him, and looked down with eyes that could melt glass.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

They were nose to nose.

Her hands were clenched in the sides of her robe like a lifeline.

Ryan leaned closer—

just enough for his breath to hit her lips, his voice softer than steam:

"I’ve had dreams like this, you know."

"You should dream better," she whispered.

He grinned.

"Don’t need to. I get the real thing."

Their mouths met like striking a match — slow, then all at once, heat rising, hands desperate.

She pulled him closer by the back of the neck.

His hand slipped behind her waist.

Robes shifted. Anchors slipped.

The steam hissed louder, a perfect cover for the way Ava gasped softly into his mouth.

---

A sharp knock hit the door.

"Shared sauna rotation in five minutes!"

They froze.

Ryan dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a groan.

Ava laughed, breathless and undone.

"We are so banned from this place," she muttered.

He kissed her collarbone once, sweet and apologetic.

"Totally worth it."

---

After sneaking out of the sauna like two teenagers escaping detention, Ava and Ryan returned to the jjimjilbang’s lounge area — still flushed, slightly damp, and very much trying not to make eye contact with the attendant who’d banged on the door.

They settled into a corner near the vending machines under soft amber lights.

The heated floors were warm beneath their socks.

Soft instrumental K-ballads played overhead.

Ryan tossed a towel onto the floor, plopped down, and immediately reached for the plastic tray of post-sauna snacks.

Ava raised a brow. "Are those... eggs?"

Ryan cracked one dramatically against his forehead. "Welcome to Korea."

Ava stared. "You’re telling me I just got dragged out of a sauna makeout for boiled eggs?"

He peeled it with exaggerated flair. "High-protein post-steam tradition. Builds character."

"You’re going to smell like sulfur and regret," she muttered, flopping down beside him.

"Not if I chase it with this." He held up two small plastic bottles of sikhye — cold, lightly frosted from the vending fridge. The labels were in Hangul, with tiny cartoon rice grains smiling at her.

Ava took one skeptically and unscrewed the cap.

The first sip was shockingly good — sweet, light, slightly malty. The kind of drink that tasted like it should come with childhood memories.

"Okay," she admitted. "That’s actually great."

Ryan nodded sagely. "Oppa always delivers."

"Stop saying that like it’s a business slogan."

"You knew who I was when you kissed me in a sweat cave," he said, biting into his egg.

Ava groaned, leaning against his shoulder. "That sentence should be illegal."

He leaned his cheek on the top of her head. "We are absolutely banned from public spas forever, aren’t we?"

"Fully."

"Think Mei will hear about it?"

Ava sipped her sikhye slowly. "Mei knows everything. She’s probably already designing ’His & Hers’ towels for the wedding she hasn’t been invited to plan yet."

Ryan laughed so hard he nearly choked on egg.

---

Ava stretched out on the heated floor, robe tucked neatly, sikhye balanced on her stomach.

"I’m still hungry," she muttered.

Ryan pointed to the far wall where a vending machine hummed, proudly displaying twenty different instant ramyeon cups.

Metal kettles beside it steamed patiently.

Ava lit up like a Christmas tree.

Two minutes later, Ryan returned with two cups of jjajang ramyeon and a pair of the world’s flimsiest chopsticks.

They sat cross-legged, knees touching, the plastic lids puffing with steam between them.

Ava took one bite and immediately moaned out loud. "This is dangerously good."

Ryan fumbled with his chopsticks. "You eat noodles like someone raised by wolves."

"You kissed me anyway."

He slurped dramatically in reply, sauce staining his lower lip.

Ava reached out instinctively and wiped it away with her thumb—then paused, looking at the brown smear on her hand.

They both stared at it.

"Don’t," Ryan warned.

Ava smirked. "What?"

"I know that look."

"You mean the one where I use this as revenge for the sauna ambush?"

"You wouldn’t."

Ava held up her sauce-smeared thumb like a war flag.

Ryan squinted. "You won’t survive this, Lee."

"Try me."

It took precisely four seconds for the ramyeon war to erupt.

Sauce on noses.

Noodles on sleeves.

A stolen chopstick and a revenge bite stolen straight from Ryan’s cup.

They were both wheezing from laughter by the time the jjimjilbang manager walked past with a frown and a mop.

Ryan held up both hands. "Sorry! Cultural immersion!"

Ava wiped her mouth with her sleeve, laughing so hard she had to lean against him.

---

Later, as the floors dimmed and the crowd thinned, Ava sat curled beside him in the low warmth of the heated stone.

Her head on his shoulder.

His hand stroking lazy circles along her back.

Their empty drink bottles and egg shells in a neat pile beside them.

"Today was chaos," she murmured.

"You say that like it isn’t our brand."

Ava smiled against his skin.

For once, she wasn’t thinking about summit scores, client pairings, or TikTok trending tags.

She was just... here.

With him.

"Thanks for being my emergency escape," she said softly.

Ryan pressed a kiss into her hair.

"Always."

She turned to look up at him.

"You know what I realized in the sauna?"

He smirked. "That I’m irresistible when sweaty?"

She laughed. "That I’m not afraid of this anymore."

"This?"

"You. Us. All of it."

He went still.

Then pulled her in tighter, pressing their foreheads together in the soft, humming quiet.

"Neither am I."

---

The night air outside the jjimjilbang hit Ava like a balm.

Cool, fresh, a little sweet — tinged with roasted chestnuts and city dust. Her cheeks were still warm, and her hair held a faint eucalyptus scent from the herbal steam.

Ryan stepped beside her, stretching with a satisfied groan.

"Well," he said. "That was educational."

Ava arched a brow. "You mean chaotic?"

"Same thing."

Their hands found each other without discussion, fingers slipping together like they belonged there. They walked slowly through the quiet street, bathhouse behind them, Seoul glittering ahead.

The city had softened for the night.

Traffic slowed to a hum.

Signs buzzed gently.

Somewhere nearby, a saxophonist was playing a jazz riff that made Ava smile without knowing why.

They passed a tiny convenience store with a rack of pink grape sodas and matcha KitKats in the window.

Ryan stopped, squinting.

"Want anything?"

Ava wrinkled her nose. "Didn’t we just eat a full day’s calories in noodles and eggs?"

"True," he said. "But I need something cold to stop thinking about what almost happened in that sauna."

Ava’s face went crimson.

"You’re banned from words."

"Oppa is haunted," he said dramatically, holding his chest. "You don’t understand. I was ready to give a eulogy for my self-control."

She shoved him lightly, laughing.

Ryan disappeared inside the store and came back with two bottled yogurt drinks and a single chocolate marshmallow pie.

He held up the pie like a sacred relic.

"Emergency sugar bonding?"

Ava took it, broke it in half, and stuffed one side into her mouth before he could launch into a speech about how romantic it was.

They sat on a stone ledge near a closed bookstore, sipping their yogurt drinks, sharing candy in silence.

Ava leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Do you think," she said slowly, "any of this would’ve happened if Mei hadn’t blackmailed you into coming to New York?"

Ryan laughed, remembering.

"I think we would’ve found our way to each other anyway."

Ava smiled softly.

He took her hand again.

They watched Seoul breathe for a while.

Lights flickered.

Taxis cruised.

A couple passed holding hands, laughing too loudly.

And Ava thought — maybe chaos wasn’t the opposite of love.

Maybe it was love, just wearing a funnier outfit.