Chapter 135: The Plastic Surgery Portfolio Problem

"Love doesn’t come with a beauty clause."

Morning poured through the suite in soft, golden streaks, painting the walls and rumpled sheets in a lazy watercolor of light.

Ava blinked awake, the scent of fresh coffee already curling through the air, warm and rich.

She yawned, stretching languidly across the empty bed—only to find the spot beside her already cool.

She pushed herself up on one elbow and saw him.

Ryan.

Standing barefoot at the minibar, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of low, black pajama pants that clung criminally low on his hips.

His hair was a wreck of soft waves.

His back muscles shifted as he fiddled with the coffee machine’s confusing Korean buttons, brow furrowed in sleepy concentration.

Ava’s mouth went dry.

Because this—this ridiculous, beautiful, completely unaware man—was somehow hers.

Without thinking, she slid out of bed, padding silently across the polished floor.

When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her face into the warm, bare expanse of his back.

Ryan froze for a second—then let out a low, happy sound, setting the coffee mug down carefully.

He covered her hands with his, threading their fingers together.

"Morning, jagiya," he murmured, voice still rough from sleep.

Ava pressed a slow kiss between his shoulder blades. "You’re supposed to be in bed."

He chuckled, low and deep, vibrating against her. "And miss you sneaking up on me like a cat burglar?"

She slid her palms up his chest, feeling the play of muscles under her fingers, and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"I should steal you," she whispered in his ear. "Tie you to the bed. Keep you here."

Ryan’s breath hitched.

He turned his head slightly, just enough for his mouth to graze her temple. "You could."

"I could," Ava agreed, letting her hands drift lower—lazily, wickedly, until her fingers teased the waistband of his pants.

Ryan caught her wrists gently, laughing under his breath. "You’re going to get us arrested for indecency."

"We’re in a private suite," she whispered, leaning in to nip his earlobe lightly. "Who’s going to arrest me? You?"

He groaned softly, turning fully to face her now, her hands trapped between them.

"You," he said, voice low, "are dangerous."

Ava smiled innocently. "I’m adorable."

"You’re about to be very, very late to your summit event," Ryan said, even as his hands slid down her sides, palms greedy and warm.

Ava tilted her head, brushing her lips along his jaw.

"So stop me."

He growled—a sound deep and half-lost to sanity—and lifted her off the ground easily, setting her onto the marble counter beside the coffee machine with an almost reverent thud.

Her robe slipped open at the thigh, baring long stretches of skin to his hungry gaze.

Ryan’s hands planted firmly on either side of her hips, caging her in.

"You have five minutes," he said roughly. "Or I’m carrying you back to bed and telling Mei you got kidnapped."

Ava laughed breathlessly, tugging him closer by the waistband of his pants.

"Oppa," she whispered mock-sweetly, "you’re all talk."

Ryan’s eyes darkened dangerously.

Challenge accepted.

He crashed his mouth onto hers—hot, claiming, devastating.

The kiss stole the air from her lungs, the coherent thoughts from her mind.

All Ava could do was cling to him—her hands fisting in his hair, his palms roaming up under her robe like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to ruin her outfit or worship it.

It would’ve gone very, very badly (or very, very wonderfully) if the coffee machine hadn’t beeped loudly behind them, announcing its successful brew.

Ryan broke the kiss first, forehead dropping against hers, breathing hard.

"Saved by caffeine," he muttered hoarsely.

Ava laughed, nipping at his bottom lip before pushing lightly at his chest. "Later."

Ryan groaned in protest but stepped back, grabbing the coffee cup with exaggerated martyrdom.

"You owe me. Big time."

Ava hopped down from the counter, smoothing her robe with what little dignity she had left. "You’ll survive."

She took the cup from his hand, kissed his cheek sweetly, and padded back toward the bathroom with a satisfied smirk.

Ryan called after her, voice warm and rough with love:

"Just remember, jagiya—you started it."

Ava grinned over her shoulder, her heart ridiculously full.

"I’m counting on it," she said.

---

Ava tightened the sash of her soft cream blouse, smoothing her tailored navy trousers.

Professional. Sharp. Still a little flushed from earlier.

She caught her reflection in the mirror—hair twisted into a sleek bun, cheeks still a little pink, mouth a little too smiley—and rolled her eyes at herself.

Get it together, Lee.

She grabbed her summit lanyard, her bag, and was halfway to the door when Ryan snagged her wrist, gently pulling her back.

"Wait," he said, voice low.

She turned.

Ryan stood there, still shirtless, still dangerous, holding something between his fingers.

She blinked.

It was a tiny folded note.

He tucked it into her hand without a word.

Ava arched an eyebrow. "What’s this?"

"A bribe," he said innocently. "Motivation. Proof that if you survive summit politics, there’s a reward waiting."

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "What kind of reward?"

Ryan smirked—that smirk—and leaned down until his mouth brushed her ear.

"You," he murmured, voice dark and warm, "in nothing but that robe tonight."

Ava shivered.

Ryan kissed her temple, lingering there, then stepped back, hands sliding into the pockets of his pajama pants like he hadn’t just set her entire bloodstream on fire.

"Go be brilliant, jagiya," he said, smiling.

"And hurry back."

Ava swallowed the stupid grin threatening her dignity, tucking the tiny note into her pocket without looking.

"If I get arrested for public indecency because of you," she said dryly, adjusting her lanyard, "you’re bailing me out."

"Gladly," Ryan said, utterly unrepentant.

She opened the door, feeling the weight of the summit day ahead of her—but also something else.

Lightness.

Strength.

Love so steady it felt like armor.

She glanced over her shoulder once, catching Ryan leaning lazily against the doorframe, watching her like she was already his greatest accomplishment.

And maybe she was.

She winked at him and disappeared into the hall.

---

The moment Ava stepped into the summit conference room, the shift hit her.

Gone were the cozy softness of morning, the private warmth of stolen kisses.

Here, everything gleamed too bright.

Too sharp.

Too staged.

Mirrored walls reflected her back at herself a hundred times — poised, polished, deliberate.

Rows of white chairs lined the floor. A panel of senior judges sat at the front, all immaculate suits and narrowed gazes.

Screens flickered with summit branding:

"Visual Compatibility: The Future of Matchmaking."

Ava tightened her grip on her bag, her earlier glow cooling into focus.

Showtime.

She signed in at the registration table, collected her client folder, and made her way to a cluster of other matchmakers waiting near the rear doors. The low buzz of murmured greetings, rustling papers, and soft coughs filled the air like static.

Someone offered her a clipboard with a printed list.

Client Appearance Enhancements: Recommended Procedures

Double eyelid surgery.

Nose bridge lift.

Skin lightening treatments.

Jawline contouring.

It hit Ava like a slap.

She stared at the list for a long, cold moment.

Like her client was a checklist.

A car being upgraded for resale.

A body treated like a fixer-upper.

Her chest tightened.

This—this—was why matchmaking needed to be better.

Not more curated.

Not more perfect.

More human.

---

From across the room, she spotted her assigned client.

Hana, 26, sat nervously at a small consultation table.

Big brown eyes. Round cheeks flushed with nerves.

A soft blue hanbok making her look like the first bloom of spring.

There was nothing wrong with her.

There was everything right about her.

Ava crossed the room, slipping into the seat across from Hana with a soft smile.

"Hi, Hana," she said warmly. "I’m Ava."

Hana bowed shyly. "Nice to meet you."

Ava tucked the clipboard face-down on the table. "Listen. I read your profile. And I have one important question for you."

Hana blinked, wide-eyed. "Yes?"

"Do you like rainy days or sunny days more?"

Hana blinked again—then laughed, small and startled. "Rainy, I guess. I like staying inside with books."

Ava smiled. "Good answer."

Across the room, one of the senior judges scowled faintly, tapping his clipboard.

Ava ignored him.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I don’t care what they wrote in that file. You’re perfect as you are. And we’re going to find someone who thinks so too."

Hana’s eyes filled with tears she tried very hard to blink away.

Ava squeezed her hand gently.

"Okay?" she whispered.

"Okay," Hana breathed, a little broken, a little braver.

---

When her group was called for presentations, Ava rose with a calm she didn’t entirely feel.

The spotlight felt harsher than the one at the K-drama Contract Marriage Challenge.

The judges stared at her like vultures.

One of the senior men, silver-haired and impeccably pressed, raised an eyebrow. "Miss Lee. Your client’s enhancement recommendations?"

Ava stepped up to the podium.

Lifted the clipboard.

Tore it clean in half.

Gasps echoed across the hall.

A few cameras clicked.

Ava met the judge’s gaze head-on, spine straight.

Her voice was steady, sure, and filled the room like a bell.

"My client," she said clearly, "doesn’t need to be ’upgraded.’ She isn’t a product. She’s a person."

Another rustle of whispers.

Ava continued, fierce and calm and burning inside:

"Love isn’t a list of requirements. It’s messy. It’s human. It’s the way someone’s laugh hits you in the chest. It’s rainy days and burnt coffee and missed trains and still thinking, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."

She glanced at Hana, who was watching her with open wonder.

Ava smiled softly.

"If we only match perfection," she said, "we match no one."

Silence.

A beat.

Then—applause.

Not just polite.

Real.

Strong.

Even a few of the more stoic judges nodded, just slightly.

---

After the applause faded and the summit crowd dispersed, Ryan was already there.

Leaning against a marble column.

Coffee cup in one hand.

Smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

And that look in his eyes—the one that said mine—burning hotter than ever.

"You’re late," he teased softly as she approached.

Ava shook her head, still buzzing from adrenaline. "I made a speech."

"I heard," Ryan said. He stepped closer, tipping her chin up with two fingers. "You changed the whole damn room."

Ava flushed. "I might have gotten blacklisted."

Ryan shrugged, grinning. "Worth it."

He tugged her away from the marble halls, ignoring the lingering stares, guiding her through the twisting streets near the Grand Mirae Center until they stumbled into a tiny alleyway lined with food stalls.

Steam curled in the crisp afternoon air.

The rich, golden smell of frying batter filled her nose.

Ryan stopped in front of a battered cart with a hand-painted sign:

호떡 (Hotteok) — Best in Seoul!

Ava blinked, still reeling from the summit adrenaline.

"You... brought me to a street cart?"

Ryan grinned, handing a few won to the elderly ajumma behind the counter.

"Victory demands fried sugar."

The woman passed him two fresh hotteok—golden brown, sticky with brown sugar syrup, filled with crushed nuts.

Ryan turned, offering one to Ava with a small, warm smile.

Ava took it with both hands, the hot pastry almost too warm to hold.

She bit into it—syrupy, sweet, just slightly crispy—and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

Ryan’s grin widened.

"See? Better than any trophy."

Ava shook her head, laughing a little even as her eyes stung.

"You’re ridiculous."

He bumped her shoulder gently with his. "You’re brilliant."

They stood there—pressed close under the string lights and the drifting smell of cinnamon—eating hotteok like kids sneaking dessert before dinner.

No speeches.

No cameras.

Just sugar, laughter, and a man who believed in her even when she forgot how to believe in herself.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read