Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 142: The “K-Dating Show” Auditions

Chapter 142: The “K-Dating Show” Auditions

"True love. Great lighting. And zero escape."

Ava woke up to the scent of tangerine shampoo and bare skin tangled in a blanket. Ryan’s arm was slung over her waist, his breath warm against the back of her neck. It was the kind of morning that whispered stay.

She rolled over slowly, blinking at his still-sleepy expression.

"You’re staring," he said, voice thick with sleep.

"You drooled on my shoulder," she replied.

"It was territorial."

They kissed lazily, limbs heavy with afterglow and absolutely zero intention of leaving bed—until Mei barged in with the force of a human caffeine shot.

"Audition clothes, now!"

Ava blinked. "What?"

Mei dropped a hanger holding a pale pink dress on the bed. "A producer from Love Seoul: The K-Dating Experience just contacted me. They’re looking for couples to do a special guest audition to boost ratings."

Ryan groaned into the pillow. "That’s not even a sentence I understand."

"You’re both going," Mei declared. "You’ll be perfect. Romantic. Chaotic. Ava, your eyeliner screams emotional damage and determination. Ryan, your face says, ’I pretend not to care but I’d commit tax fraud for her.’"

Ava sat up slowly. "We’re not actually auditioning, right?"

"You’re fake auditioning," Mei said, as if that cleared anything up. "For branding. Visibility. And maybe to destroy Julian with charm."

Ava narrowed her eyes. "What did you tell them?"

"That you were emotionally unstable and in love. They loved it."

---

The production studio was slick, polished, and buzzing with caffeinated interns. Posters of brooding Korean heartthrobs and beautiful women in tears lined the walls.

Ava walked in, trying not to hyperventilate under stage lights. She turned to Ryan. "Why do I feel like we’re about to be eliminated from our own relationship?"

Ryan adjusted the collar of his jacket. "Just follow my lead."

"Oh no," she muttered. "That’s never worked."

They were ushered into a "confessional room" with a pink velvet loveseat, a camera mounted on a tripod, and a box of props labeled FOR EMOTIONAL STAKES ONLY.

The producer smiled too much.

"So! We want you to do a short intro, then answer a few love dilemma questions, then stage a ’dramatic reveal.’ Something juicy. Like betrayal, or secret love child."

Ryan blinked. "We’re not on Makjang & Murder."

Ava elbowed him. "Play along. Or Mei will sign us up for actual TV next."

The producer nodded. "We’ll start with a couple’s confessional. Just talk about how you met, but exaggerate. Emotion is currency!"

The camera blinked red.

---

The Confessional Begins

Ava: (deadpan) "I met Ryan when he sabotaged my matchmaking gala."

Ryan: (smiling like a rom-com lead) "And I knew immediately I wanted to ruin her life. Lovingly."

Ava: "He’s my enemy. He’s also hot. I’m confused and angry. Mostly at myself."

Ryan: "She’s like a feral cat who bites. I find it sexy."

The producer whispered, "Perfect."

Then came the drama box.

Ava pulled out a fake wedding ring.

"Use this for betrayal," the assistant whispered.

Ryan stared. "Is this... is this prop marriage therapy?"

"Shh," Ava said. "Go with it."

She turned dramatically to the camera.

"Ryan... there’s something I never told you."

She paused, widened her eyes.

"I once matched your ex-girlfriend. On purpose."

Ryan leaned back like she’d slapped him. "You what?"

"Only to test you."

The producer clapped silently. "Yes! Betrayal! Rage! Passion!"

Ryan stood and paced in a very poor K-drama imitation. "How could you? I trusted you with my latte order!"

Ava gasped. "And you still drink almond milk?! Who are you?!"

They glared at each other.

Paused.

Then burst into laughter.

The camera cut.

"Okay," the assistant said, blinking. "That was... weirdly effective?"

---

Aftermath – Backstage Banterp

Back in the greenroom, Ava flopped into a beanbag chair. "I can’t believe we just fake-fought over fake almond milk."

Ryan leaned over her. "I can’t believe you called me hot on record."

"It’s for ratings."

"You called yourself emotionally unstable."

"Again: ratings."

He bent to kiss her forehead. "So what’s our next reality show?"

She grinned. "Matchmaker Mayhem: The Prenup Edition."

From the corner, Mei beamed and whispered to Harold, "See? They’re naturals."

Harold muttered, "Please don’t pitch that."

---

Outside the production studio, a tinted black van waited near the side entrance, engine low, windows cracked to let in the spring air. A woman in sunglasses sat in the backseat, legs crossed, tablet in hand—but her eyes weren’t on the screen.

They were on Ava.

Through the open glass doors, she could see her—laughing, flushed, still wearing a clip mic and tangled in Ryan’s arm as they mock-fought over some shared joke.

Min Seo-jun tilted her head slightly.

"Loud. Unfiltered. Impossible to ignore," she murmured, almost to herself. "Of course it’s her."

The driver looked up in the rearview mirror. "Should I head to your next appointment?"

"Not yet," Seo-jun said, eyes still locked on Ava.

It wasn’t envy, exactly.

Just... interest.

Curiosity.

Like watching a fire through glass—beautiful, dangerous, and impossible not to notice.

She watched as Ava swatted Ryan with a script and doubled over laughing.

Ryan touched her lower back like it was muscle memory.

Seo-jun’s lips curved—barely.

"Messy," she said under her breath. "But real."

And just before the van pulled away from the curb, her gaze lingered one last second longer.

Something about Ava Lee stayed with her.

---

Min Seo-jun sat on the floor of her minimalist hotel suite, cross-legged in silk lounge pants, a cup of barley tea untouched beside her. Her tablet rested on her knees. She scrolled.

The clip was only a minute long.

Ava Lee.

Ryan Kim.

On a fluorescent-lit set, wielding a rubber chicken and a karaoke mic.

Ava’s laugh—bright, unfiltered—crackled through the speakers like electricity. She flung a chopstick at Ryan. He caught it midair, dipped her like a drama prince, and spun her back upright while both of them screamed the chorus of Love Scenario.

They were ridiculous.

Seo-jun watched the clip again.

This time, she noticed the way Ava’s hair clung to her cheeks with static, how Ryan looked at her like there was no one else in the world, and how Ava didn’t seem to mind.

Or even notice.

She was too busy being alive.

Too bright.

Too loud.

Too real.

Seo-jun tilted her head slightly. Pressed pause. The screen froze on Ava mid-laugh.

For a moment, the strategist in her tried to categorize it.

Charm?

Unfiltered charisma?

Professional chaos in heels?

She exhaled.

None of it explained the feeling blooming quietly in her chest.

It wasn’t love.

Not yet.

It wasn’t even want.

It was disruption.

And Seo-jun, who built her entire career on still waters and predictable currents, hated disruption.

But she didn’t close the clip.

She pressed play again.

And when Ava tripped over Ryan’s foot and fell into his lap, cursing through laughter, Seo-jun’s lips curved. Barely. Almost.

She took a sip of now-cold tea.

Still watching.

Still wondering.

Still not looking away.

---

Late that night, on the rooftop lounge of the hotel, two women sipped tea like it was ammunition.

Madam Choi sat in tailored navy hanbok loungewear, legs crossed, her fan resting on the low table like a weapon. Mei leaned back on a cushioned bench, wearing a robe covered in tiny foxes and holding a teacup that read "Chaos is a Career."

Between them sat silence—rich, heavy, deliberate.

Then Choi said it:

"She watched the video. Twice."

Mei didn’t ask who. She never needed to.

She just exhaled. "And didn’t blink, I imagine."

"Didn’t breathe."

"Mm. That one always did favor quiet obsession over loud affection."

Choi narrowed her eyes slightly. "It’s different now."

Mei swirled her tea. "Ava has that effect."

"She’s... unpredictable."

"She’s real. The world doesn’t prepare women like Seo-jun for people like Ava."

"She shouldn’t get involved."

"She’s already involved. And she doesn’t even know it."

Choi turned, gaze sharp. "You sound amused."

"I’m always amused when the storm thinks it’s not raining yet."

Choi let out the smallest laugh. "And what does Ava think?"

Mei smiled over the rim of her cup. "Oh, she has no idea. But the moment she stops pretending not to notice? Sparks."

They sat in silence again.

The city lights blinked below.

Then Mei added, "And if either of them break her heart—"

Choi nodded. "We’ll bury them with paperwork."

Mei clinked her cup against Choi’s. "To chaos, courtship, and whatever the hell happens next."

---

Ava flopped back on the bed, feet in fuzzy socks, chopsticks in hand as she plucked a piece of sweet fried chicken from the tray on her lap. "Okay. I regret nothing."

Ryan, sitting cross-legged beside her, popped a shrimp chip in his mouth and pointed at the TV. "You say that now. Wait until we see the slow-mo of you screaming at me with a fake rose in your mouth."

She tossed a napkin at him. "That was acting!"

"You broke the set lighting."

"Method acting."

The leaked clip was now trending on multiple Korean entertainment sites, retitled "The Unhinged Matchmaker Couple You Can’t Look Away From."

Ava hit play on the biggest one.

It opened with a close-up of her trying to adjust the mic, then Ryan whispering something completely inappropriate, making her laugh-snort mid-interview.

Ryan chuckled, mouth full. "You snorted like a baby warthog."

"You dropped the rubber chicken and saluted it like a fallen comrade."

The karaoke segment began. Ava groaned.

"Oh god, not this part—"

But she didn’t stop it.

They watched themselves scream-sing Love Scenario, Ava accidentally knocking over a prop lantern while Ryan twirled her dramatically and nearly slipped.

At the final beat, the crowd in the clip clapped wildly, and Ava yelled, "You’re so embarrassing!"

Ryan whispered something in her ear on-screen, making her freeze.

In the current moment, Ava blinked. "Wait. What did you say there?"

Ryan shrugged. "That you were mine, even if I had to win you with a chicken."

She turned to him, eyes soft.

And just like that, the laughter dimmed into something quieter. Something sweeter.

"You always say the dumbest things when I need to hear them."

He smirked. "You fell in love with the dumbest man alive. It’s a miracle."

She leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow, while the TV replayed their accidental confessional chaos in the background.