It was the kind of moment that made the air hold its breath.

The stage shimmered in crystalline gold, every spotlight bowing to Jang Wonyoung as she stood poised, radiant, in a dress that clung like starlight. The heart-shaped cutout at her chest glittered with subtle defiance, her smile a blade hidden in a bouquet.

She tilted her head, lashes low, and purred into the mic, “Have you ever tried this one?”

And then—that pose. Her hands traced a shape in the air—feminine, languid, suggestive. A practiced sway of the hips, a pause just long enough to let the crowd drown in their own assumptions. It was a tease wrapped in silk and sugar.

The audience screamed and cheered, but the camera quickly panned with precision to where Enhypen sat, seven sharp silhouettes in perfect formation.

Sunghoon had been mid-sip of water, smiling to himself as he watched.

The glass wobbled in his hand before he choked down a startled laugh, shoulders folding inward as he leaned hard against Heeseung, trying in vain to hide the way his grin split too fast, too wide. Jake gave him a nudge, bemused; Jungwon blinked like he'd just seen someone’s soul leave their body.

Sunghoon ducked his head, biting the inside of his cheek, but the flush had already bloomed high on his neck. A hand rose instinctively to cover half his face, as though the gesture alone could swallow his reaction.

He shouldn't have looked.

But of course, he had.

And Wonyoung—ever the consummate professional, ever the goddess draped in diamonds—never broke character. Not even for a second. Not even as she spun gracefully into her next line, voice sugar-sweet, unbothered.

Sunghoon let out a breathless laugh, quiet this time, as the crowd roared around him.

He didn't need to say a word.

He was already caught.