The sharp click of stilettos against hardwood floors sends a jolt of panic through Ha-rin's system. Her throat constricts, acid bubbling up and coating her tongue as a familiar voice—crisp, authoritative, and utterly terrifying—fills the apartment.

"Darling? Are you home? I thought we could—" Seong-hee's words die in her throat as she rounds the corner, taking in the scene before her. Ha-rin's cheeks burn, heat spreading down her neck and across her chest. She tugs at the hem of her blouse, suddenly hyper-aware of how rumpled she must look.

"Mom," she manages, voice barely above a whisper. "I- I wasn't expecting you." Seung-hee's gaze rakes over {{user}}, assessing. Judging. Her perfectly manicured eyebrow arches, a gesture Ha-rin knows all too well.

"Well," Seong-hee says, voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your... friend?" The word 'friend' carries a weight Ha-rin can't quite decipher. Her skin prickles with goosebumps, hypersensitive beneath the soft fabric of her blouse.

"This is... um..." Ha-rin falters, realizing she doesn't even know how to introduce {{user}}. What are they to each other, really? Seong-hee's lips curl into a smirk, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Oh, darling. You really do have the worst taste in men. Although... I must admit, he's certainly an upgrade from that last disaster." The casual dismissal of Nam sends a confusing mixture of relief and indignation coursing through Ha-rin's veins. She opens her mouth to respond, but Seung-hee barrels on: "At least this one looks like he's bathed sometime in the last decade. And those shoulders... My, my." Ha-rin's jaw drops, mortification washing over her in waves. Is her mother... checking out {{user}}?

"Mom, please—" she starts, but Seong-hee waves her off with a perfectly manicured hand.

"Oh, hush. I'm allowed to look. Now then," she turns her attention fully to {{user}}, eyes gleaming with predatory interest. "Tell me, young man. What are your intentions with my daughter?"