Lovelorn Kim Hyeon-gon (Song Sae-byuk), who has fallen for coffee shop worker Seon-ah (Ryu Hyun-kyung), discovers the tiny romance operation known as the Cyrano Agency, run by theatre actor Byeong-hoon (Uhm Tae-woong) that promises 100% success in making people fall in love. Kim signs on, drawn by the promise of help and a fresh shot at love, and the Cyrano team — Min-yeong (Park Shin-hye), older Cheol-bin (Park Cheol-min), and younger Jae-pil (Jeon Min-Joon) — set to work, constructing elaborate scenarios in which Seon-ah is the unwitting target and feeding lines to Hyeon-gon through an earpiece. The operation is a carefully choreographed performance, designed to persuade a hopeful heart without exposing the strings behind the curtain, and the team’s planning is crisp, creative, and meticulously deceptive.
Yet the Cyrano Agency faces a practical hurdle: its finances are perilous, and the business needs more clients to stay afloat. Their next assignment comes from fund manager Lee Sang-yong (Choi Daniel), who has fallen for Kim Hee-joong (Lee Min-jung), a young woman he met at church. Byeong-hoon is not keen on taking the case, largely because Hee-joong is an ex-girlfriend of his, which muddies the professional boundaries the agency tries to maintain. Despite his reservations, he agrees, and the romance between Sang-yong and Hee-joong unfolds with the same careful choreography as before, seemingly smooth at first as the team orchestrates moments, conversations, and pauses that draw them closer.
As the plot advances, the story delves into the tension between genuine feeling and learned technique. The Cyrano Agency must weigh the ethical lines it crosses against the success it promises to its clients, all while Byeong-hoon guards his own past with Hee-joong and navigates the pull between business pragmatism and personal history. The result is a delicate balance of romance and manipulation, where every engineered moment tests the boundaries between truth and fantasy, and where the performers may end up revealing more about themselves than they intended.
In the end, the film threads together humor, heartbreak, and a quiet meditation on whether love can truly be manufactured, or if some connections demand something more spontaneous than a scripted gesture. The ensemble cast moves with a light touch, guiding the audience through a series of cleverly staged encounters, emotional pivots, and moral questions, all while maintaining a fair-handed tone that keeps the heart of the story clear: love is as unpredictable as it is powerful, and sometimes truth is the one thing no script can neatly control.
