That was all Mihu needed.
"Woah... woah, woah, woah..." she whispered under her breath, already leaning forward like she was afraid to miss even a single second. "This handso dude is proposing to my boss...?"
Her heart started racing.
This was happening.
This was actually happening.
Then Si Hon spoke.
"Will you—"
That was it.
That was the trigger.
Mihu physically grabbed onto her own sleeve, barely containing the squeak that threatened to escape as the mont exploded inside her imagination.
Aeloria’s reaction didn’t help.
"No! What the hell?!" she snapped, turning away sharply, her face visibly flushed as she tried— and failed to maintain composure. "W-why are you already proposing?!"
But Mihu didn’t hear it cleanly anymore.
Her brain had already... adjusted things.
Rewritten them.
"W-why are you already proposing~" Aeloria’s voice echoed in her mind instead, softer, more flustered, one hand rising toward her lips as if she was trying to hide the embarrassnt blooming across her face. "I’m not ready yet, stupid..."
Mihu froze.
Then—
She squeaked.
Actually squeaked.
Her hands shot up to her mouth, eyes sparkling so hard it was a miracle her glasses didn’t fog up.
"I’m so in for this ship..." she whispered rapidly, barely holding it together. "Pink... love... blue leader... uwoah..."
Her entire body trembled with the sheer weight of what she believed she had just witnessed.
This wasn’t just a mont anymore. In Mihu’s mind, it had already transford into sothing far bigger— sothing cinematic, sothing important.
The kind of scene that people whispered about later, replayed in their heads, argued over, supported like it was a matter of personal belief. Her chest felt tight with excitent, like she had just stumbled into the turning point of a story that wasn’t supposed to be this good.
The kind that demanded support.
The kind you chose sides for.
But then—
Sothing shifted.
It wasn’t loud. It didn’t interrupt the mont outright. It slipped in quietly, like a blade pressing gently against the atmosphere, just enough to be felt. Sharp. Cold. Imdiate. Shakespeare 2.0.
Mihu’s excitent faltered mid thought, her body going still as that feeling crawled up her spine. The warmth of the scene, the fluttering chaos in her chest— it all stuttered, tripped, then slowed. Her gaze lifted almost instinctively, drawn toward the source before her mind could even catch up.
And then—
Seong.
Up close... she felt different.
Not just in the obvious ways. Not just the reputation that followed her like a shadow, or the stories whispered behind her back like legends people weren’t sure were exaggerated or not.
It was sothing quieter than that. Sothing heavier. The kind of presence that didn’t need to announce itself, because it was already there— settled, controlled, and watching.
Mihu swallowed.
Because suddenly—
This didn’t feel like a romance scene anymore.
It felt like she had accidentally stepped into sothing dangerous.
Seong-su.
There was sothing in the way she stood, in the way the air around her seed just a little heavier, like it carried sothing unspoken. Mihu’s thoughts flickered rapidly, recognition snapping into place a second too late.
Recognition struck a second too late.
Mihu’s thoughts tripped over each other as her gaze fixed on the woman in front of her, the pieces slowly starting to connect in a way that didn’t feel calm at all. Red hair, sharp eye, and that damn glare. (Wait... that’s—)
The realization ca in a bit late, hesitant at first, like her brain didn’t want to jump to conclusions too quickly. But then it clicked.
(Seong...? The assassin... the one who never lost in the arena...?)
Her excitent didn’t disappear.
It changed.
Turned into sothing more focused, more alert— like curiosity mixed with a bit of uneasiness. Not enough to make her step back... but enough to make her pause.
Almost unconsciously, her eyes drifted downward.
To Seong’s hand.
Her fist was clenched.
Tight.
Too tight.
It wasn’t exaggerated. There was no shaking, no outward sign of anger— but the tension was there, coiled beneath the surface, controlled so precisely that it made it worse. Like sothing was being held back rather than expressed, restrained instead of released.
Mihu swallowed.
Her throat suddenly felt dry.
(...Why is she...)
"Mom..."
The word dropped into the mont without warning.
Suha’s voice was light and innocent, completely unaware of how much that one sentence changed the mood around them.
Mihu froze.
"Why is Dad kneeling toward that blue-haired girl?"
Everything stopped.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just—
Stopped.
For one second, the world seed to hold its breath, suspended in a quiet that felt far too thin for what had just been said.
Then—
It shattered.
Mihu’s thoughts exploded all at once, every conclusion, every assumption, every possibility crashing together in a chaotic, unstoppable wave.
Her jaw dropped.
Not tapoporically.
Literally.
"M-m-mom...?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely functioning as her brain attempted, and failed, to process the information it had just received.
Her thoughts tweaked instantly.
(MOM?!?!)
(WHAT?!)
(SHE’S MARRIED?!)
(THAT cold, ruthless woman?! The undefeated one?! WHEN?! HOW?! TO WHO?!)
Then it clicked.
Her mind raced so fast it practically tripped over itself, each new realization crashing into the next like a collapsing tower of assumptions and dramatic conclusions.
(That handso crush of mine that I’m shipping with to my boss...)
But the excitent?
Still there.
Still growing.
Because now—
Now this wasn’t just a romance.
This was sothing else entirely.
Sothing far worse.
Or far better.
Depending on who you asked.
Mihu slowly adjusted her round glasses with a trembling finger, her expression turning deeply serious in a way that absolutely did not match the situation she thought she was analyzing.
(Okay... think...)
(Think carefully...)
Her eyes darted between Si Hon... Aeloria... and Seong, who still stood there, silent, unreadable, her presence alone enough to twist the atmosphere into sothing dangerously ambiguous.
(Who do I support...?)
Her grip tightened slightly against her sleeve.
(A cheating scene that looks this romantic...?)
A second.
(Or a tragic story about a married couple...?)
Another second.
Her brain tweaked once again.
Completely, as a sweat slid down to her forehead.
"Oh my god..."
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