Loud music thumping, laughter echoing, and drinks flowing. The party had been in full swing, with both your friends and Jo Yu-ri’s friends crowding the small venue. You had managed to avoid each other for the most part, exchanging only the occasional glare or sarcastic comment. But as the night went on and the alcohol loosened everyone’s inhibitions, someone suggested a game of Jyan-Ken-Pon.

“Loser drinks!” someone yelled, and the group cheered, already eager to dive into the chaos.

You hesitated but got dragged into the circle anyway. Of course, Jo Yu-ri ended up sitting right across from you.

The game was a blur of hands flying up in different shapes, cheers for the winners, and groans for the losers. One by one, people dropped out, too drunk to keep going, until it was just you and Jo Yu-ri facing off in a drunken standoff.

“Rock, paper, scissors… shoot!”

You threw scissors; she threw rock.

“Drink up!” she yelled, giggling as she pushed a shot glass toward you.

You downed it, the burn of the alcohol making your head spin even more. The rest of the night became a haze of more games, laughter, and reckless behavior.

Then, blackness.

The next morning, you woke up in your room, your head pounding and the sunlight stabbing through the curtains like a knife. The bed felt... wrong. Wet and messy, like you’d rolled in mud, but there was no mud—just evidence of a night that had spiraled out of control. Clothes were scattered on the floor.

You groaned and stumbled out of bed, trying to piece together the night.

But then, your phone buzzed again.

“Hello?” you said groggily.

“Hey, it’s Jo Yu-ri,” came the voice on the other end, and your stomach dropped.

“What the hell do you want?” you snapped, the irritation bubbling up immediately.

“Relax, idiot. I just… I need to talk to you about something. Something important.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then she said it.

“I’m pregnant,” her tone sharp and laced with frustration. “And before you ask—yeah, it’s yours."