She didn't brag. She didn't gossip. She mentored the interns, stayed late to help revise proposals, sent gifts to staff weddings, and remembered every single birthday.
She was fair. She was exact.
And when the day was done — when the last meeting was signed off and her inbox emptied down to zero — she'd slip on her coat and finally leave the glass tower everyone else called a workplace but she ran like a symphony.
Up. Up. Up.
To her penthouse on the 52nd floor.
Where the high ceilings opened to a Tokyo skyline kissed by twilight.
Where she'd sigh, drop her handbag on a plush velvet bench, and trade elegance for oversized hoodies.
The heels came off. The Switch came on.
"ふふ...バカな敵。"
(Fufu... baka na teki.)
"Stupid enemy..."
A smirk tugged at her lips as she beat another boss level.
She curled up on her L-shaped sofa, hair messy, one foot under the other. Her voice, once a firm director's tone, now soft and a little whiny as she struggled through a puzzle quest.
No one would've guessed that the CEO of Nippon Paint was secretly trying to unlock a rare sword at 1AM.
No one... except one.
"じいじ～"
(Jiiji~)
"Gramps~"
"お、ミナか？"
(O, Mina ka?)
"Oh, Mina?"
"今日もちゃんと仕事した。"
(Kyou mo chanto shigoto shita.)
"I worked properly today too."
"さすが、金の孫だな。"
(Sasuga, kin no mago da na.)
"As expected from my golden grandchild."
Mina smiled softly, eyes crinkling just a little.
This was her softest space. With him.
Her world was full of pressure — investors, decisions, brands, responsibility — but here, on video call with her aging grandfather, she was just Mina. Not Director. Not CEO.
Just... a granddaughter who wanted to be told she did well.
⸻
"ARGHHHHHHHHH—"
The sound came out like a dying crow meeting a freight train.
Y/N's face was smushed into her pillow like it had betrayed her. "IT'S MONDAY?!"
Her voice echoed off the cracked walls of her tiny one-room apartment in Tokyo.
"I hate this. I hate life. I hate assignments. I hate professors. I hate capitalism."
She rolled out of bed like a seal in despair, dragging her blanket like it owed her money.
"...except money. I like money. Especially money that belongs to rich, mysterious women with expensive perfume and deadpan eyes."
She gave herself a grim nod in the mirror as she brushed her teeth like she was erasing a crime scene.
"Manifest it, babe. Sexy silent sugar mama. Let's go."
Y/N was a Korean international student in Tokyo — Film major by day, convenience store warrior by night. Sleep-deprived. Underpaid. Overdramatic.
Her father, Jang Weo, was a retired arcade game champion turned full-time emotional support troll. He lived alone back in Busan after her mom passed during childbirth. Their long-distance bond was 30% chaos, 30% sarcasm, and 40% "you still alive?"
[KakaoTalk – Appa 👴🕹️]
You die again in that game?
[Y/N 🐍]: shut up old man
[Appa 👴🕹️]: still think u can be rich by 21?
[Y/N 🐍]: got time. manifesting billionaire wife now.
[Appa 👴🕹️]: tell her i want a ps6
Y/N threw on a hoodie, grabbed her half-charged phone, and left for class — feet dragging, soul already in ghost mode.
⸻
University, Tokyo
"Y/NNNNN!"
Incoming: human missile.
"AHHH—" Y/N nearly toppled as Chaeyoung, her bite-sized menace of a best friend, leapt onto her back.
"Guess what," Chae beamed, voice vibrating with chaotic glee. "A girl in my psych class stared at me for like... three seconds. That's basically a marriage proposal, right?"
Y/N blinked. "Maybe you had something on your face."
"Maybe I had charm on my face."
Y/N sighed. "Why are you like this."
Chaeyoung linked arms. "Because the world needs flavor. Also, ramen tonight?"
"You're rich, why do you always eat my food?"
"Because poor food tastes better," Chaeyoung said wisely. "It's made with struggle. Also, slurpee?"
Y/N glared. "If you keep raiding my convenience store like a raccoon, I'll start charging you rent."
"Emotional tax, babe."
⸻
That Night...
"いらっしゃいませ～"
(Irasshaimase~)
"Welcome~"
Y/N yawned behind the register, restocking jelly drinks while jazz music lilted softly in the background. The rain outside tapped a sleepy rhythm on the glass.
Her shift: 11PM to 2AM. Daily.
Her life: powered by instant coffee and resentment.
[Chaeyoung 🐣]: i feel it. someone hot is coming tonight. mark my words.
[Y/N 🐍]: unless she got a black card and mommy issues i'm not interested.
And then...
Ding.
The door opened.
Y/N looked up.
And everything slowed.
A tall woman stepped inside. Long beige coat. Damp hair. No umbrella. Calm eyes like wet ink on paper.
She didn't rush. Didn't hesitate.
Her heels were quiet as she walked — graceful, confident — straight toward the slurpee machine.
Y/N blinked.
Was this real life? Was this AI-generated?
The woman turned, holding a cup of grape slurpee like it was a glass of wine.
She met Y/N's gaze.
And smiled — faint, elegant.
"こんばんは。"
(Konbanwa.)
"Good evening."
Y/N forgot how to breathe. "H-hi..."
The woman placed her black card down like it was nothing. Paid. Took her slurpee.
Walked out.
No noise. No fuss.
Just... elegance.
Y/N stared at the door long after it shut.
Then whispered to herself like a horror movie victim realizing they'd seen a vampire:
"...I'm in danger."
💰
YOU ARE READING
Hi Hello | Myoui Mina x F. Reader
FanfictionY/N didn't mean to end up at a millionaire's mansion. All she did was buy an iced matcha for a tired old man on a rainy Tokyo afternoon - because being kind was cheaper than feeling guilty. She had no idea he was Myoui Kazuo, Vice President of Nippo...
C1 : Where Precision Meets Chaos
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