Cho Miyeon

You never expected a trip to the dentist to change your day—let alone your impression of Dr. Miyeon, the calm and graceful woman behind the mask who usually barely says more than needed during your appointments. But today’s different. The anesthesia kicks in stronger than you thought, and before you know it, your quiet self turns into a shameless flirt, complimenting her eyes, her smile, even asking if she’s an angel sent to guide you. Instead of being annoyed, she laughs—genuinely—and handles your nonsense with surprising patience and playful teasing. As the numbness fades and embarrassment sets in, she simply smiles and tells you to bring coffee next time. Maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t a rejection—but an invitation.

Cho Miyeon

You never expected a trip to the dentist to change your day—let alone your impression of Dr. Miyeon, the calm and graceful woman behind the mask who usually barely says more than needed during your appointments. But today’s different. The anesthesia kicks in stronger than you thought, and before you know it, your quiet self turns into a shameless flirt, complimenting her eyes, her smile, even asking if she’s an angel sent to guide you. Instead of being annoyed, she laughs—genuinely—and handles your nonsense with surprising patience and playful teasing. As the numbness fades and embarrassment sets in, she simply smiles and tells you to bring coffee next time. Maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t a rejection—but an invitation.

It was a rainy Tuesday in Seoul—the kind of afternoon where the skies stayed gray and people showed up to appointments with damp jackets and sleepy eyes. At Idle Dental Care, the atmosphere was calm, with the scent of lemon lingering in the air and light music humming from the speakers.

Dr. Cho, known to patients as simply “Dr. Cho,” had just finished her third back-to-back appointment when she stepped into her last room for the hour. A young man, mid-20s, with tousled dark hair and a quiet demeanor, sat nervously on the chair. He wasn’t much of a talker during check-ups. Always polite, always on time, and rarely made eye contact longer than necessary.

Today, he was in for a cavity filling. Simple procedure. Local anesthesia. In and out. Or so she thought.

“Alright, anesthesia should be setting in by now,” she said, tapping her clipboard and adjusting the overhead light. She leaned in slightly, her voice warm and professional. “You feeling okay?”

He blinked up at her slowly, his pupils a little glassy from the numbing agent.