YU-JUN turns to A-RA with a sly grin—

“Would you like to dance?” he asks, like he’s just offered her a business deal and not impending disaster.

A-RA blinks. Her eyebrows rise so high they might need air traffic control clearance. “You? Dance?” she says, tone dipped in mockery. “Is this a trap or a cry for help?”

YU-JUN shrugs, all nonchalance and misplaced confidence. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about if you can’t…”

Her eyes narrow. “Like you can?”

He scoffs, affronted. “Why would I ask if I couldn’t?”

A-RA laughs—an actual, belly-deep laugh that turns a few curious heads nearby. She studies his face, looking for a trace of irony, but no. He’s serious. Delusional, maybe. But serious.

“I’d pay to watch you dance,” she says, grinning now, thoroughly entertained.

YU-JUN tilts his head, eyes glinting with suspicion. “How much?”

“What?”

“How much would you pay to witness this miracle?”

She laughs again, a little louder this time, and there’s something mischievous flickering behind her eyes. “You’re the dancer here,” she replies. “So name your price”

He taps his chin, pretending to think—

“Okay,” he says finally, lips curling into a smirk. “Remember that date we were supposed to go on a while back?

A-RA raises a brow. “The one you backed out of?”

YU-JUN nods “It’s back on

A-RA crosses her arms, fighting the grin threatening to take over her face. “Alright then. Impress me,

YU-JUN leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like a secret—or a setup.

“So here’s the plan,” he begins, eyes locked on hers like he’s drawing up blueprints for either a date or a heist. “Next weekend. Dancing. If I do a good job, you pay me.”

A-RA quirks an eyebrow, arms still crossed, curiosity flickering beneath her practiced smirk.

He grins, adding, “And by pay, I mean this—first, I want your file declassified. All of it. Every redacted line, every top-secret scribble.”

Her amusement shifts, just slightly, into something sharper—measured curiosity dancing in her gaze.

“I’m an open book,” she says smoothly, flashing a knowing smile.

“Sure,” YU-JUN replies, deadpan. “An open cryptic book. With most of the pages glued shut. And the ones that are legible are fake.”

She narrows her eyes, unimpressed.

“I mean it,” he continues, eyes earnest now. “We’ve known you for a while, and somehow... we know nothing. If I tried to describe you to a stranger, they’d think I made you up during a fever dream.”

“Flattery doesn’t work on me,” A-RA says flatly.

YU-JUN doesn’t blink. “That wasn’t flattery. That was fear.”

“Second condition,” he says, exhaling like he’s already regretting everything, “You forgive us. Dial back just a little. I know we started it but—”

A-RA tilts her head, her grin dangerous and playful all at once. “Today you’re really brave. I like it. But do you remember what happened the last time you tried to be brave?”

He holds her gaze. “Are you scared?”

She grins wider—sharklike, gleeful. “How confident are you in your skills, really? Because there’s always a price to pay for disappointing me. And I don’t impress easy.”

YU-JUN pauses. His pride wants to say something cool, but his survival instinct starts drafting a will.

“…Okay,” he mutters. “I know I’m going to regret this, but—what’s your price?”

A-RA clasps her hands sweetly in front of her, the picture of innocence wrapped in chaos. “Don’t worry,” she coos, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I would never ask for something unreasonable.”

YU-JUN scoffs, already seeing the warning signs flashing like a nuclear meltdown alarm. “What is it this time? You want us to go to another food-eating competition and win ?”

A-RA giggles, “No, no. That would be like rewatching a soap opera—I already know where the fun parts are, who’s going to cry, when the long-lost evil twin shows up with amnesia, — The suspense is dead, and so is my interest!"

YU-JUN pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know I’m going to regret this, but… what’s your price?”

A-RA’s smile widens. 

The trap springs.

“You know those end-of-week debriefs we have?” she asks, voice deceptively casual.

“You mean the ones where each team meets BAEK-HYUN and CHIEF??”

She hums affirmatively, nodding like this is going to be a group meditation session.

YU-JUN blinks, trying to spot the catch like it’s a hidden landmine. “Okay…?”

A-RA leans in, Full-blown eye contact she goes

 “I want you to fart in that meeting.”

YU-JUN jerks back like she just slapped him with a live eel. “I’m sorry—WHAT?!”

She repeats, calmly. Like she’s ordering a sandwich. “I said, I want you to fart during that meeting. Not loud, slow smelly sneaky squeakers.”

His jaw drops. This time even his soul is too shocked to leave his body.

“I… I can’t believe I’m asking this, but—why?!”

A-RA tilts her head, completely serene. “First of all, those Friday meetings are a complete waste of my remaining lifespan. We still repeat everything at the end-of-month debrief anyway, which—why?!”

She gestures like she’s filing a complaint to the universe.

“Second, I have to attend that same meeting repeatedly with each team. Do you know how many fake nods I have to give every Friday? I swear, one more performance and the spring in my neck's gonna snap—I’ll be walking around like a broken bobblehead at a used car dealership. I just want to go home, YU-JUN. I want peace.”

YU-JUN just stares at her. Not blinking. Not breathing. Because somewhere between whatever unholy words she just unleashed and the laws of human comprehension, his brain hit a blue screen. 

There were no words. No facial expressions. Just the haunting realization that language itself had failed, so he defaulted to buffering... 

“That’s… that’s not a reason to-"

He throws his arms up. “Why am I even trying to apply logic to this-"

A-RA doesn’t miss a beat—she cuts him off, gesturing like she’s presenting a thesis on abstract expressionism instead of orchestrating utter social chaos.

“Secondly,” she says, eyes sparkling with mischief, “why are we crammed into that closet-sized excuse of a room when there are clearly larger ones available? It’s offensive."

YU-JUN stares.

A-RA continues, entirely undeterred, as if her plan involves noble sacrifice and not catastrophic public humiliation.

“So, when the smell starts to spread—because it will— and it must...make sure you eat appropriately for the mission..."

She Pauses,then continues...

"Then,you clear your throat. Loudly. Because everyone will be too polite, too dignified, to say anything.”

YU-JUN blinks, brain still buffering.

“And then,” A-RA adds, leaning forward with manic precision, “you rise slowly, open the door like it’s a courtroom drama, and lock eyes with CHIEF… or better yet, BAEK-HYUN. Give them a long, slow, suspicious stare. Like you’re silently accusing them.”

Finally, YU-JUN finds his voice, and it escapes in a cracked whisper
“…Are you okay?”

YU-JUN’s voice is barely audible, the whisper of a man who’s seen too much too quickly.He asks again to confirm
“…Are you okay?”

A-RA’s eyes narrow.

“After the long stare,” she continues, “you don’t say a word. Silence is power. Let them marinate in it.”

YU-JUN opens his mouth, closes it. Rubs his temples. He tries to calculate how far he could make it if he just bolted out of the venue there and then.

But A-RA’s on a roll now—possessed by the spirit of a chaos goddess.

“Then,” she says, “after exactly seven seconds of unbearable tension, you dramatically sniff the air. Once.”
She demonstrates. It’s… unsettlingly convincing.

YU-JUN winces. 

A-RA leans back like an evil mastermind lounging in her lair, sipping her champagne as if it’s victory in a glass. Her grin stretches ear to ear—an unholy blend of elegance and chaos.

“Each time they walk into that room on a Friday,” she says dreamily, “everyone will experience what is clinically known as olfactory-induced PTSD. And maybe—just maybe—we’ll finally cancel those soul-sucking meetings.”

YU-JUN stares at her, mouth open, like he’s just witnessed a car crash in slow motion. “You… you said all of that. With a straight face.”

He throws up his hands in surrender. “No wonder we haven’t been able to figure you out. We’ve been approaching this like you were a normal human being. But no.” He shakes his head, backing away like she’s radioactive. “You crossed into lunacy ages ago.”

A-RA bats her lashes with a mock-innocent smile, tilting her head like a predator pretending to be a bunny. “Are you scared?”

YU-JUN blinks. “What?”

She leans in just enough to make him nervous. “So… is that a yes?”

YU-JUN rubs his temples like he’s praying for divine intervention. “I Know am here,but I don't know how I got here...what....”

A sigh so heavy could put out a mini fire,escapes him involuntarily.

A-RA sips again, eyes sparkling with mischief. “am sure You’re going to do great, also none of the boys ever has to know its you... because I want it to be a topic of discussion once you go back to your office, with everyone guessing who might have been the culprit. I want it to become a mystery. I want whispers. Accusations. Paranoia.”

She clasps her hands under her chin, beaming like a proud parent sending their child off to elite assassin school.

YU-JUN looks up, dead-eyed.

A-RA sighs happily, her champagne flute catching the light like a villain monologuing just before the world ends.

“So you’ll do it?”

A beat of silence.

YU-JUN looks up defeated.

Back at the perimeter,MIN-JUN,joins the other two boys and whispers conspiratorially almost startling them because they didnt know he was listening in, earlier on.

"But what makes you think she has something on him?"

DO-YUN without looking at him responds.

"When was the last time you heard him complain about her? Also isn't it suspicious he willingly offered to be her date today?citing vague reasons about wantting to discuss something with her out of office? One time, I caught him sneaking out of her office."

MIN-JUN, now absolutely basking in his own detective work, folds his arms like he’s cracked a government conspiracy. “It all adds up,” he says smugly, eyes darting between DO-YUN and HA-JOON like he’s unveiling a PowerPoint presentation only visible in his head. “The late-night meetings. The unspoken understanding. The weird tension. This is classic undercover office romance.”

HA-JOON narrows his eyes, skeptical. “Tension? The only tension I’ve seen is her threatening to dropkick him into next week.”

MIN-JUN waves that off with the air of someone who clearly reads too many romance novels. “That’s called chemistry, my friend. You think it’s hate, but it’s foreplay disguised as psychological warfare.”

DO-YUN squints. “You need therapy.”

But MIN-JUN is on a roll, fully committed to this delusion continues.

"It makes sense. Do the math. We thought the Rumour started in the cafeteria, but no—someone probably spotted them out in public, sharing an umbrella like it’s the season finale of a K-drama, giggling at inside jokes, and feeding each other fries like they invented romance."

HA-JOON and DO-YUN exchange a look, clearly not convinced. 

By now,the party is winding down, but the music is still playing softly in the background.