The guests, still processing the mess they had just witnessed, exchanged baffled looks.
The perfect classical music they had been expecting? Gone. Replaced by a rap anthem. If there was one thing Ciry could count on, it was the unexpected.
Her moment of sheer satisfaction came when she looked over at Ryu, standing at the altar, his face was masked with calm but she could read the confusion in his eyes.
She almost felt sorry for him, but then remembered—he was the one who hadn't denied the wedding .
When she reached the altar, she met his eyes and smiled. "Ready for the wedding, dear husband-to-be?" she asked, her tone as sweet as could be.
He was speechless for a moment, clearly still processing the absolute madness of the day, but his face was expressionless.
"Well," she continued, her grin widening, "this is what happens when you push a girl too far."
And then, as if to seal the deal on her rebellious performance, the clown made his entrance again—this time, tossing his fake flowers in all directions with absolute abandon.
"I'm sorry," he said with an exaggerated bow. "I missed my cue!"
The guests were frozen, unsure whether to laugh or cringe, eyes darting around in confusion.
Ciry chuckled she had absolutely no regrets.
As the ceremony continued, the air was thick with tension. Ciry stood at the altar, surrounded by pristine white, the weight of tradition pressing down on her.
Ryu stood before her, unmoving, as if the chaos unfolding around him couldn't touch him—like he was impervious to the madness of the moment.
The priest, an elderly man who had officiated hundreds of weddings, looked more frazzled than ever.
His hand gripped the prayer book so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He knew this wasn't going to be a typical ceremony.
Ciry, however, was perfectly aware of what was happening. The altar was her stage. She wasn't here out of love—she was here to make Ryu cancel the wedding and set her free.
The priest cleared his throat, moving the ceremony forward with a nervous tremor in his voice.
"Ryu, do you take Ciry to be your lawfully wedded wife?" His words were laced with uncertainty, as if he were silently praying that Ryu would be the better of the two, less dramatic than Ciry.
Ryu's voice was low and firm. "I do."
Ciry's lips twisted into a frown.
The priest exhaled in what could only be relief, and turned to Ciry. "Ciry, do you take Ryu to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Ciry raised an eyebrow, flashing him a playful, almost mocking smile. "Do I have a choice?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Her eyes flicked toward her father and stepmother in the crowd, their gazes fixed on her with quiet judgment. "Let's see how long this lasts," she added with a casual shrug.
With that, they exchanged rings, the moment passing in an almost mechanical blur.
The priest paused for a moment, his voice faltering as he continued, "If there is anyone here who objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."
The moment seemed to hang in the balance, suspended in a breathless silence. The air was thick with tension, so still you could hear a pin drop.
Then, from the front row, a woman stood—a woman Ciry had hired for this exact moment. She rose quickly, a purposeful movement that caught everyone's attention.
Without hesitation, the woman's voice rang out, loud and clear, shattering the stillness. "This man has impregnated me," she declared, her hand instinctively cradling her belly as she continued.
"I'm four months pregnant and have been with him for five years." Her words struck like a thunderclap, reverberating through the crowd.
A ripple of whispers spread instantly, running like wildfire from one corner of the room to the other.
For the first time since the chaos had begun, Ryu's composure cracked. He looked flustered, caught off guard.
His usual calm demeanor faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly, and he raised an eyebrow in clear surprise. This was a development no one had seen coming.
The crowd fell into a stunned, deathly silence, as if the very air had been sucked out of the room. The priest, almost in a daze, nearly dropped the microphone. The tension was vivid, the weight of the revelation settling over everyone like a suffocating cloud.
Ciry, however, remained unfazed. In fact, she allowed herself a cold, dark smile, a slight, triumphant curve of her lips. This is where I run free.
Her father, George, was livid. His face turned red, and it seemed as though he might blow smoke from his nostrils in fury.
His fists clenched at his sides, but he remained silent, watching the unfolding disaster in disbelief.
Meanwhile, Flora, Ciry's stepmother, fixed Ciry with a glare that could have cut glass—her eyes narrowing with disdain and contempt. The venom was unmistakable, as if Ciry had personally betrayed her.
And Ciry's mother, ever the quiet observer, sat frozen, her mouth hanging wide open in stunned shock. She seemed too stunned to react, her eyes locked on the woman who had just thrown this bombshell into the middle of the ceremony.
Then, with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, Ryu raised his hand—just enough for those who were watching to understand the unspoken command.
His bodyguards, strategically positioned around the venue, shifted their positions, their movements smooth but deliberate.
The groomsmen, who had been standing still like statues, began to subtly adjust their attire.
Some of them lifted their coats just high enough for a glint of metal to catch the light—the unmistakable outline of a gun tucked into his belt.
Other opened their coats slightly, revealing the weapon concealed in the inner pocket.
The bridesmaids, too, shifted ever so slightly, revealing guns strapped to their thighs, concealed just beneath the long slits of their dresses. The message was clear and undeniable.
Ciry stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded, her mind racing to process the turn of events.
The woman, her hired pawn, now looked horrified.
Her face contorted in confusion before she muttered an awkward apology, "I mistook you for someone else, you must be his look-alike" and with a quick, subtle bow, she turned on her heel and hurried away, muttering under her breath, "I'll never sign up for gigs like this again."