The reception night was in full swing.
Soft fairy lights bathed the outdoor pavilion in gold, the bride and groom were glowing, and distant laughter echoed across the venue as families danced, drank, and celebrated long into the warm Seoul evening.
Mina, however, was hiding behind a flower cart.
Minseo found her ten minutes into her disappearance, holding a glass of champagne like it might grant her invisibility.
"There you are," he said, leaning casually against the cart. "You missed the group dance. Your aunt was scanning the crowd like a drone."
"She needs a new hobby," Mina muttered. "Like fencing. Or space travel."
Minseo offered her his hand. "Come on. Let's give them one more fake memory to swoon over."
"I don't dance."
"I saw that in your file," he said, smirking. "That's why I requested this song."
A slow instrumental version of IU's "Through the Night " began to play.
Mina groaned. "You are diabolical."
"I'm efficient."
She stared at his hand.
"Just one dance," he said softly. "For the cameras."
She let out a breath—and took it.
Minseo pulled her gently into the clearing, hand settling on her waist, warm and steady. Her other hand rested against his shoulder. They moved slowly, in rhythm, his breath easy, hers anything but.
It was… dangerous.
Too quiet. Too close. Too believable.
"Everyone's watching," he murmured against her hair.
She stiffened. "I hate them all."
"You love it."
"I hate that I'm not hating this."
He laughed under his breath. "You're not the only one."
She tilted her head up, just slightly.
His gaze was already waiting.
The fake smile he wore for her family was gone. This one… was different. Real. Soft. Almost wondering.
His eyes dropped to her lips.
And the music slowed.
And for a second—just one suspended second—it happened:
They leaned in.
Their noses brushed.
Their lips hovered, barely apart, hearts pounding louder than the song—
And someone sneezed.
Loudly. Right behind them.
They jolted apart like teenagers caught behind the gym.
A little cousin was rubbing his nose and skipping past, completely oblivious.
Minseo blinked. Cleared his throat. "Well. That was—"
"—a mistake," Mina said, too fast. "Just the music. We got swept up. Normal. Happens."
"Right," he said, nodding.
Silence.
The air between them shifted again. Less sweet. More charged.
"Let's not do that again," she muttered.
"Unless the contract calls for it," he said lightly, but his voice didn't quite land right.
She nodded, suddenly cold.
The moment passed.
But not completely.
That night, back in their room, Mina stared at the ceiling from her side of the pillow-barriered bed.
Minseo was already asleep—or pretending to be.
Her fingers drifted to the side of her face where he'd almost kissed her.
She cursed softly into the darkness.
This was all pretend.
But her heart wasn't playing along.