Sora's POV
I was ready to barge in and yell at Yeongjae.
I had a whole speech prepared in my head, something dramatic, something about boundaries and consultation, and this is my café, not a playground for pretty men in sleeveless shirts.
But the second I stepped inside the commercial unit next door, every single word evaporated.
I just… stood there.
Speechless.
The scent of fresh paint lingered in the air. The walls were being coated in the exact same faux cement wall finish shade as 8th House Café. The same industrial accents. The same wooden furniture.
Workers moved around efficiently, installing light fixtures identical to mine, assembling tables that looked like twins of the ones I had handpicked months ago, and positioning them to mirror my own layout.
My heart began to pound, not from anger.
From disbelief and confusion.
"What is going on?" I finally managed to say. "Why is the color the same as my café?"
