“Fiona, I got you the role of a lifetime.”

Fiona barely glances up from her bowl of cereal. She’s been binge-watching an old K-drama for the past six hours, curled up on the couch like a burrito of self-doubt. “Mhm. That’s nice.”

Her sister, Riley, lets out a dramatic sigh. “Excuse me? ‘That’s nice’?! Fiona, this is huge! You’d be playing the lead in a psychological drama! This could be your breakout role!”

Fiona finally looks at her. “A psychological drama?”

Riley smirks. “Yep. You’d be playing a genius psychiatrist who falls for her patient.”

Fiona immediately shakes her head. “Nope. No way. I can’t do that.”

Riley frowns. “What do you mean you ‘can’t’? You’re an actress.”

Fiona gestures wildly. “Exactly! I don’t know the first thing about being a psychiatrist. I’ll mess it up, and the critics will drag me. ‘Fiona Bennett gives an uninspired, surface-level performance’—I can already see the headlines.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “Wow, love the self-confidence.”

Fiona sighs, sinking into the couch. “I just… I don’t think I’m good enough.”

A beat of silence. And then, in true Riley fashion, she grins and throws an arm around Fiona’s shoulders. “Okay, easy fix—just go undercover.”

Fiona blinks. “…What?”

Riley shrugs. “Go undercover. Pretend to be a psychiatrist. Spend time with actual patients. Live the role. You know, like those method actors who go full psycho?”

Fiona stares. “That’s insane.”

Riley grins. “Exactly. It’s the kind of insane that wins awards.”

Fiona laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just waltz into a psychiatric hospital and pretend I belong there.”

She expects Riley to drop it. To tell her she’s just joking. But her sister just raises an eyebrow. “I dare you.”

And that’s how Fiona finds herself googling how to fake credentials in a psychiatric hospital at 2am.

The glow of her laptop screen was the only source of light in Fiona’s dimly lit bedroom. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she typed:

“How to become a psychiatrist overnight (no degree, no problem).”

No useful results. Shocking.

She sighed and deleted the search, then tried again:

“Fake psychiatrist credentials that look real (not illegal).”

Still nothing.

Fiona groaned, rubbing her temples. How hard could it be? All she needed was to convince some hospital that she was a professional—just for a few weeks. Just long enough to get into character for her upcoming movie.

Her sister’s voice echoed in her mind: “If you’re so worried about being unconvincing, why don’t you just go undercover?”

Clearly, Riley had been joking. But here Fiona was, at 2AM, on the verge of committing light fraud.

She opened a new tab and started researching hospital dress codes. Would a white coat make me look smarter, or would it be too obvious?

A notification popped up. A text from Riley.

Riley: Why are you still awake?

Riley: If you’re looking up ways to sneak into a hospital, go to sleep

.Riley: I mean it, Fiona.

Fiona smirked and sent back a single message:

Fiona: Too late.

She shut her laptop and stretched. Tomorrow, she would find a hospital. And then, the real fun would begin.

--- To be continued ---

Fiona adjusted her blazer in the reflection of the hospital’s glass doors, inhaling sharply. She looked somewhat professional. If you ignored the slight panic in her eyes.

Confidence, she reminded herself. Doctors don’t hesitate. They walk like they belong.

So, she squared her shoulders, pushed through the doors, and walked up to the reception desk with the most doctor-like stride she could manage.

The nurse at the front barely glanced up. “Can I help you?”

Fiona cleared her throat. “Yes. Dr. Fiona…”—Crap, last name, last name!—“…Evans.” (Her eyes had landed on a random name tag on the counter. She was really hoping that nurse Evans wasn’t on shift today.)

The receptionist nodded, typing something into the system. “Specialty?”

Fiona froze. Specialty? Crap. Think, think.

“…Psychiatry,” she said smoothly, praying that was even a department here.

The nurse nodded again. “Oh, good. We’re short-staffed. You’re here for the new rotation, right?”

Fiona’s brain short-circuited. Rotation? What was that? Was she being added to an actual shift right now?

She considered correcting the nurse, but then—Wait. This is perfect. If I’m supposed to be here, no one will question me.

So, she put on her most professional smile. “Of course.”

The nurse handed her an ID badge. “You’ll be shadowing Dr. Patel in Ward C. You can find your first patient in Room 314. Good luck, Doctor.”

Fiona stared at the badge. It wasn’t even her picture. It was some other woman with glasses.

But hey. A win was a win.

She nodded, pocketed the badge, and strolled into the hospital like she actually knew what she was doing.

Fiona stands in front of the empty hospital room, blinking at the very much missing patient.

"Okay… maybe he’s just in the bathroom?" she thinks, peeking inside. Nope. No sign of life. Not even a toothbrush.

She turns to the nearest nurse, trying to sound professional. “Uh, excuse me? I was told to meet with Damian… but he’s not here?”

The nurse barely glances at her. “Then find him.”

Fiona frowns. “…Find him?”

The nurse gives her a look, as if she’s the crazy one. “You’re the psychiatrist, aren’t you? If you don’t know where your patient is, that’s your problem.” Then, just like that, she walks away.

Fiona just stands there, stunned.

"I—what? What kind of hospital is this?!"

With an exasperated sigh, she starts searching. The cafeteria? Empty. The lounge? No sign of him. The hallways? Just a bunch of other patients who definitely are not Damian.

She’s about to give up when she remembers something.

“If I were a troubled, rebellious patient avoiding therapy… where would I go?”

The answer hits her like a K-drama plot twist.

The rooftop.

Sure enough, when she pushes open the rooftop door, she spots someone lying there.

A guy.

He’s sprawled out on the ground, one arm draped over his eyes, completely dead to the world.

For a second, Fiona freezes. Because he isn’t just asleep—he looks exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept in days. The wind moves through his dark hair, his breathing steady but deep, like someone who only lets themselves rest when they physically can’t go any further.

She suddenly feels… awkward. Should she wake him? Would he be mad?

Finally, she clears her throat. “Uh… Damian?”

No response.

She tries again, louder. “Damian.”

Nothing.

Fiona rolls her eyes. Of course my first patient is a literal sleeping beauty.

After a beat, she kneels beside him and—hesitantly—gives his shoulder a small shake.

His eyes snap open immediately. Sharp. Unreadable. Like he was never really asleep at all.

And then, in a deep, groggy voice, he mutters, “…You found me. Congratulations.”

Fiona blinks. What.

Damian stares at her, gaze heavy with something between amusement and exhaustion. “Well? Do I win a prize?”

She has no idea what to say to that.

--- To be continued---

Fiona is still processing Damian’s first words.

“You found me. Congratulations.”

What kind of sleep-deprived, cryptic nonsense—?!

She crosses her arms. “I wasn’t aware this was a game of hide-and-seek.”

Damian smirks, still lying down. “It wasn’t. But you played anyway.”

Fiona glares. “Well, sorry to ruin your little rooftop getaway, but you have a session with me.”

At this, Damian sighs dramatically. “A session. Of course.” He finally sits up, stretching lazily. “And who exactly are you again?”

Fiona straightens, putting on her best professional act. “Dr. Fiona Bennett. Your new psychiatrist.”

Damian stares at her. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

…He doesn’t believe her.

Oh crap.

Did I say something wrong?! Did I blink weird?!!

She clears her throat. “Is… something funny?”

Damian leans in slightly, elbows resting on his knees, watching her too closely. “You.”

Fiona blinks. “Me?”

He tilts his head. “Yeah. You don’t look like a psychiatrist.”

Fiona forces a tight smile. “Oh? And what do psychiatrists look like?”

Damian shrugs. “Older. Tired. Probably wearing glasses.” His eyes flicker over her outfit. “And they definitely don’t wear shoes that scream ‘I walked into the wrong place.’”

Fiona quickly glances down at her bright red sneakers. Crap. Rookie mistake.

She clears her throat, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “Well, Damian, you don’t look like a patient either.”

He raises a brow. “No?”

Fiona smirks. “No. Patients are usually inside the hospital. You, however, are having a rooftop vacation.”

Damian chuckles. “Touché, ‘doctor.’”

A gust of wind blows between them, and for a split second, Fiona sees it—the exhaustion behind his teasing. The kind of tiredness that isn’t just about missing sleep. The kind that settles into your bones.

It almost makes her feel bad for dragging him back inside. Almost.

She sighs, putting a hand on her hip. “Come on, sleeping beauty. Back to your room.”

Damian groans. “Ugh. I hate it there.”

Fiona raises a brow. “Well, I hate playing detective, but here we are.”

He watches her for a long moment, then—to her absolute horror—grins.

Oh no. That’s a mischievous grin. That’s a ‘this guy is about to make my life difficult’ grin.

Damian leans back on his hands, completely relaxed. “Okay, new deal. I’ll go back inside… if you answer one question.”

Fiona sighs. “Fine. What?”

He smirks. “Are you really a psychiatrist?”

Fiona freezes.

He’s messing with her. Right?

…Right?!

Damian’s smirk lingers, eyes sharp with amusement. “Are you really a psychiatrist?”

Fiona doesn’t flinch. If he wants to play, she’ll show him how it’s done.

She tilts her head, stepping closer, eyes narrowing. “Are you really a patient?”

Damian’s smirk falters for half a second.

Gotcha.

He recovers quickly, raising a brow. “You tell me, doctor.”

Fiona sighs dramatically, crossing her arms. “Well, let’s see. You avoid your sessions, refuse to stay in your room, and—you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

Damian hums. “So observant.”

Fiona leans in slightly, lowering her voice like she’s about to reveal a scandalous secret. “But you also talk too much to be totally miserable.”

Damian blinks. “…Excuse me?”

Fiona shrugs, circling him like a detective solving a case. “I’ve met miserable people, Damian. They don’t smirk. They don’t tease. And they definitely don’t make deals just to stall for time.”

Damian watches her, like he’s trying to figure out who the hell she really is.

Fiona presses on. “So, I’ll answer your question. Yes, I’m a psychiatrist.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips. “Mm. Liar.”

She grins. “And you love it.”

Damian chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. You win.” He gets to his feet, stretching lazily. “I’ll go back.”

Fiona gasps dramatically. “Wait. That’s it? No sarcastic remark? No last-minute attempt to escape?”

Damian smirks. “Oh, don’t worry, doc. I’m just giving you this round.” He leans in slightly. “It’s more fun when you think you’re ahead.”

Fiona watches as he casually strolls toward the rooftop door, hands in his pockets, completely unbothered.

Oh.

This wasn’t a win.

This was a challenge.

And damn it, now she actually wants to know more about him.

--- To be continued ---