Catty's Game: Two months to win His Heart

Chapter 1 – The First Day of Chaos

I adjusted the blazer again, tugging at the sleeves that didn’t quite fit right. Katty’s reflection—no, mine now—stared back at me from the lobby mirror, calm, polished, professional. Deep breath, Catty. You’re Katty now. Two months. Two months to survive. Two months to make him fall for you.

Easier said than done.

The elevator hummed as I rode up to the executive floor. Each tick of the numbers felt like a drumbeat counting down to doom. I tried to imagine this was all a game. A challenge. A… mission. That’s right. My sister dared me into this, and I was not backing out.

And then I saw him.

Katty’s boss.

Tall. Sharp. Golden-brown eyes that seemed to slice right through me. Hair perfect, suit perfect, aura… I don’t even have a word for it. It was like someone had bottled arrogance, served it over ice, and walked into the office. He glanced up at me. Katty… right.

“Ah, Katty. Good morning.” His voice was smooth but icy, not a hint of warmth.

I forced a smile, the kind that said, I’m competent and professional while inside I was screaming: I am so not ready for this! “Good morning, sir.” My voice sounded too careful, too high. Great. First impression: awkward panic disguised as politeness. Check.

He returned to his papers without another word. I should’ve left it at that, but of course, my first task arrived immediately.

“Organize the Johnson files. Make sure the contracts are ready for the afternoon review.”

I nodded, trying to look confident. “Yes… Katty will get right on it.”

I turned to the cabinets, squinting at the mess of files. Why are there three “Contracts Pending” folders? Who thought this made sense? My panic rose in waves, but I forced myself to breathe. Think like Katty. Katty is calm. Katty is perfect. Katty knows what she’s doing.

Thirty minutes in, disaster struck.

A coffee cup slid off the edge of my desk. I lunged, heroic and clumsy all at once. The cup tipped, coffee arcing through the air like some caffeinated missile, and landed squarely on a stack of important reports.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

I grabbed the papers, trying to salvage them, but coffee had already left its brown signature across everything.

He looked up, eyes narrowing. “You’re clumsy,” he said flatly, pushing the papers aside with one precise movement. I wanted to curl up into a ball right there, but instead, I mumbled, “I… I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up—”

“No,” he interrupted, finally fixing me with that piercing gaze. “Learn from it. Don’t repeat the mistake.”

Yes, because nothing says winning someone’s heart like humiliating yourself in your first hour on the job.

I grabbed a stack of paper towels and began mopping like a trainee in some nightmare reality show. My cheeks were on fire. Two months. Two months of this. I might actually die before lunch.

By the time I was done, he was back at his work, indifferent. I tried to calm my shaking hands and refocus. I had a game to win, remember? Korea trip. Idol. Fame. Glory. Okay, maybe not glory, but still… something worth suffering for.

My next mission was scheduling meetings. Easy, right? Wrong. Katty had this… system. Color-coded, layered, with sticky notes on top of sticky notes. I stared at it like it was hieroglyphics. I squinted, tapped my pen, then shrugged. Do or die. Fake it until he falls in love.

“Miss… Katty?” His voice cut through my panicked thoughts.

“Yes?” I said, trying to sound professional instead of panicked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you always work like this?”

I blinked. “Uh… yes?”

He didn’t answer. He just leaned back, eyes on me, expression unreadable. I swear my heart skipped three beats. I tried to look busy, rifling through calendars and notes, pretending to understand Katty’s system.

By mid-morning, I had nearly forgotten my own name. I had accidentally sent an email meant for HR to him, almost spilled his lunch again, and somehow managed to misplace a crucial file. Each small failure felt like a nail in my coffin.

And yet… I couldn’t stop noticing small things about him. How his sleeve slipped slightly when he adjusted his watch. How he frowned just slightly at mistakes, not overly angry. How he held himself like he was untouchable… but maybe, just maybe, not completely.

Lunch came, mercifully, but of course, I had to pass by his office. And of course, he looked up as if he knew I was coming.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked.

“Uh… lunch?” I offered, weak but hopeful.

He didn’t respond immediately. Just stared. My stomach twisted. Don’t faint. Don’t faint. You’re not even supposed to like him!

Finally, he nodded. “Fine.” And then went back to his papers.

I exhaled, moving toward the cafeteria, but not without thinking: This is going to be harder than I thought. But two months… I can survive two months. I have to.

Afternoon brought more challenges. Files to organize, meetings to schedule, a project presentation I had to pretend I understood. Every step felt like walking on a tightrope over a pit of fire. Every glance from him made me both nervous and… strangely alert. I hated admitting it, but he was compelling in a way I didn’t expect.

By the time the clock hit five, I was exhausted. My feet ached, my head was spinning, and I was pretty sure I had accidentally insulted the printer three times. But I had survived. Somehow.

As I stepped out of the office, I sent a quick text to Katty: Day one survived. Barely.

Her reply came instantly: Good. Now multiply that by 59 more. Don’t mess it up.

I groaned. Two months. Pretending. Surviving. Winning. And somewhere in the middle of it, maybe even… enjoying the chaos.