Hi Hello | Myoui Mina x F. Reader

C7 : Number on Receipt

Chaeyoung walked over, holding a miso cup and staring at her with deadly judgment. "Like cartoon sparkles. With sighs. I swear I saw a shojo filter appear around your head."

Y/N leaned on the counter, chin in her palms.

"...She came in twice, you know."

Chaeyoung opened the ramen lid with one hand. "You mention it every 30 minutes."

"She didn't have to. She has a driver. She has servants. She has a 200,000-yen coat."

"You priced her coat?"

"It's tailored. I felt the stitch count when she walked past me."

Chaeyoung looked genuinely concerned. "Girl."

Y/N turned, eyes glassy. "If I marry her, Chaeyoung. If I just—marry her, I think I can finally escape taxes."

Chaeyoung immediately raised a spoon like a sword. "YES. BRO. YES."

Y/N stared dreamily into the slurpee tank. "And like... do you think our kids would be pretty?"

Chaeyoung paused, slurping. "I think you'd have ten."

"TEN?? I'm not a factory!"

"Ten is the minimum for that face."

"You think my uterus runs a paint factory?!"

Chaeyoung chewed thoughtfully. "You said 'pretty.' I assumed 'genetically blessed army.'"

Y/N groaned into her apron. "Stop talking."

"Rip your down there, babe."

Y/N threw a chip at her.

⸻

Chaeyoung now stood like an anime villain near the freezer, arms crossed, judgment high.

"You know," she declared. "I deserve snacks. I'm emotionally supporting my best friend's spiraling into a gay corporate romance."

Y/N, forehead still on the counter: "You've been encouraging me to manifest marriage with a stranger."

"Rich. Stranger. CEO. Goddess. Tax eraser. Dream."

"I think I have a problem."

Chaeyoung patted her back like a priest performing an exorcism. "It's called love, baby."

"It's called delusion, clinically."

Ding.

They both turned.

They both turned again, just to double-check.

And there she was.

Standing under the flickering convenience store sign like she just stepped out of a luxury fashion ad.

Beige designer coat. High ponytail. Soft glow from neon reflections across her cheekbones. Eyes sharp as always, but... tired. Like she'd been working late.

Myoui Mina.

Again.

Y/N's hand slipped.
A whole rack of instant noodles toppled.

She didn't even blink.

Behind the register, Chaeyoung clutched the counter.

"Oh my god. Is this a drama?! Is this the K–J crossover arc!?"

Mina walked in slowly. Hands tucked into her coat pockets. Her footsteps were so soft on the tile floor that it felt like she floated.

"Konbanwa."—Good evening.

Y/N tried to respond.

But her brain said: "!@#$$%^^&"

Instead, she bowed, tried to speak, and nearly choked.

"Hi! Hello! Uh—welcome! Again! I mean—late! I mean—open! Yes. We're open. Hello. Yes. Hi. Good."

Mina tilted her head.

Her lips twitched upward.

"Just needed a snack. I figured... this place is reliable."

From the back: "You're reliable."

Y/N didn't turn. She simply shoved a broom toward Chaeyoung without breaking eye contact.

⸻

Mina took her time.

Each aisle. Each shelf. Her hand grazed over items like she was deciding fate. Y/N tried very hard not to stare, but she failed spectacularly.

"Chaeyoung," she whispered.

"Yes, your honor?"

"I need to act normal."

"You're literally vibrating."

"Why is she here again?"

"Because you're magnetic. You're slurpee-bait."

"Help me."

"I'm helping."

"You're not."

"I am emotionally narrating this entire thing for your memoir."

Mina returned with shrimp chips, canned tea, and of course—another slurpee.

She placed them down calmly. Her expression was neutral.

Y/N scanned the items like they were made of gold.

"That'll be... 860 yen."

Mina didn't say much. Just pulled out that sleek black card again.

No tip this time.

No grand gesture.

But as Y/N printed the receipt, Mina took the pen.

And with a fluid flick, signed something quickly — casually — across the back.

She handed it back.

Y/N blinked. "You need a copy?"

Mina met her gaze. Soft. Playful.

"No need."

She turned. Took one step. Then paused.

"...Don't worry," she added, tone lighter. "I'm not here because of the snacks."

And she walked out.

Ding.

Y/N stared at the receipt in her hand like it had become sacred scripture.

At the bottom, in the cleanest handwriting she'd ever seen:

I still owe you one slurpee for delivering paint. — Mina

Silence.

Then—

"YOU'RE. SO. DONE."
Chaeyoung gasped, clutching her heart. "I'm shaking. I'm sobbing. I'm emotionally unwell."

Y/N folded the receipt like it was a royal decree.

"I'm framing this."



💰