He seemed unbothered, but Ciry's mind was racing. What is this? This was supposed to be my game! How the hell did this turn out this way?
Her bewildered gaze met Ryu's, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. His unflinching calm told her everything she needed to know: Bring it on. Two can play this game.
A surge of anger and humiliation hit her like a wave, but Ciry recovered quickly. She wasn't about to let him have the last smile of triumphant. NO.
That was supposed to be hers. In an attempt to salvage her crumbling plan and sink the wedding once and for all, she seized the mic from the priest, her eyes never leaving Ryu's calm, challenging stare.
Let's see how you're getting out of this, tough guy! she sneered. The challenge in her eyes was clear—she wasn't finished yet.
"This is a forced merger," she began, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind. "Ryu here is—"
Before she could finish, the priest, looking thoroughly flustered, lunged forward and snatched the mic from her hand. "The girl has probably had a little too much to drink before coming to the wedding," he stammered, attempting a nervous chuckle in a desperate attempt to diffuse the thick, suffocating tension.
Ciry shrugged indifferently, a smirk tugging at her lips. Fine, plan B failed... Her eyes sparkled with mischief. I guess it's time for plan C.
Without wasting a second, she suddenly staggered, one hand pressed dramatically to her forehead, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear.
She swayed for a moment, her steps faltering before she crumpled to the floor in a theatrical swoon, collapsing with a dramatic flair that could have rivaled any stage performance.
The gasps that followed were almost audible, as the guests collectively held their breath, unsure whether to intervene. Ciry lay there on the ground, motionless in a dramatic fainting style.
A chorus of shocked gasps filled the air, followed by a heavy silence as the crowd quickly processed what had just unfolded. Some leaned forward in curiosity, while others jumped to their feet in alarm, unsure of what to do next.
From her father and stepmother's position in the crowd, it was clear they wished they could melt into their seats and disappear.
Her father's face flushed a deep shade of red, a mix of shame and helplessness washing over him. He stared down at his lap, as though the weight of the moment was too much to bear.
Her stepmother, Flora, on the other hand, was visibly furious. Her lips pressed together tightly, eyes narrowing as if the spectacle before her was a personal affront.
Despite her anger, the red tint on her own cheeks betrayed the fact that even she was taken aback by the drama.
Her mother, Marla, however, remained unfazed. Her expression was unreadable, as though nothing could truly shake her. She didn't even flinch, a stark contrast to everyone around her.
The priest, now fully in crisis mode, rushed to her side.
Ciry fluttered her eyes open just as he reached her, shooting him a look that seemed to say, Don't you dare ruin this one too! The priest, momentarily taken aback by her audacity, took a step back, unsure of how to proceed.
He might have thought he was helping, but it was clear that Ciry had no intention of letting this be anything but her show.
He's gonna get tired of me and this whole fiasco, and then maybe he'll leave me alone, she thought with a bitter, almost triumphant, edge.
Ryu, however, had seen enough. With a low sigh and an eye roll, he swept Ciry into his arms, his posture stiff and unyielding.
He started marching toward the exit, his bodyguards falling in line behind him, a silent, imposing parade of muscle and authority.
Ciry, her mind swirling with frustration, cursed under her breath. As soon as they reached the car, she felt herself being roughly tossed into the back seat.
Her eyes snapped open as the door slammed shut, the cold, metallic scent of the car overwhelming her senses.
It was a rough, unceremonious end to the chaos she had tried so hard to orchestrate—and yet, the finality of it only fueled the fire in her belly. She wasn't done. Not by a long shot.
Ryu slid into the seat, sitting beside Ciry. Kuro, his assistant got behind the wheel, adjusting the mirror to glance at them. "Where to?" he asked as he started the engine.
Ryu didn't hesitate. "Mental hospital. She clearly needs it."
Ciry jolted upright.
"WHAT?!" She bolted upright, water dripping from her hair. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, fury lighting up her face. "You were supposed to LEAVE ME ALONE, DAMMIT!"
Ryu's smirk was pure amusement. "Oh? You're awake now?" He turned to her, tilting his head mockingly. "Too bad. The mental hospital would've been better for you."
Ciry sat there, stunned into silence, eyes widened.
For once, she had nothing to say.
Ciry's mind spun, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Her hands curled into fists as she shot Ryu a venomous glare. "You are an absolute menace," she muttered, arms crossing like a barricade.
Ryu leaned back in the seat, watching her in silence with that maddening calm, as if she were mildly amusing and barely worth the energy.
She turned toward the window with exaggerated despair, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead like a tragic heroine.
Then, loudly: "Oh no… it's happening again!"
Ryu blinked slowly. "Seriously?"
"The world's spinning! My vision—it's fading!"
Ryu sighed. "We both know it isn't."
"OH NO! MY HEAD! I CAN'T BREATHE!"
People outside stopped, confused. A man pulled out his phone, possibly to record or call for help—or both. Concern spread like wildfire.
"Don't do it," Ryu warned, low and sharp.
"HELP!" Ciry wailed. "I'M BEING KIDNAPPED!"
The car screeched as Kuro slammed on the brakes. Ryu was nearly thrown forward.
"DAMN IT, Kuro!" Ryu barked, catching himself.
"S-Sorry! She's yelling 'kidnapped'! What was I supposed to do?!"
Ciry grinned like the devil himself. "That's right, everyone! This man is—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Ryu reached over, clamped a hand over her mouth, and yanked her back into the seat with practiced ease.
He leaned in close, voice low and deadly calm. "If you want to make it to your next birthday, I suggest you shut up."
Ciry's eyes widened, her heart pounding—not from fear, not exactly.
It was the way he said it. The heat in his breath. The scent of him—clean, sharp, infuriatingly good.
Damn it.
Why did he have to smell like trouble wrapped in temptation?