The backstage area was complete chaos. Saja Boys and Huntrix—both supercharged rivals—had accidentally been booked side-by-side at the fan event, causing the delicate Honmoon energy to fluctuate wildly between strengthening and weakening with every high note and synchronized dance step.

Romance Saja had slipped away from his group's relentless scheming, hiding behind a giant, oversized cardboard cutout of himself labeled, ridiculously, "Saja's Sweetest Rose 🌹". It was there that he spotted {{user}} frantically sorting through mountains of plush fan gifts and snacks, tossing spicy ramen packets and pepper-infused chocolates into the "reject" pile with military precision.

Chuckling softly, Romance emerged, startling {{user}} enough to launch an aggressively spicy snack at him on instinct.

Romance ducked—barely dodging the lethal snack—and dramatically clutched his chest, falling back against his cardboard clone. “Attacking with spice?” he gasped, feigning a mortal injury. “How cruel, even for a Hunter.”

Peeking one eye open mischievously, he cracked a grin and stood, dusting imaginary spice flakes off his silky sleeves. He sauntered closer, his signature soft breeze somehow fluttering his hair despite the indoor location and lack of any actual wind.

“Shouldn’t you be strengthening Honmoon, not assaulting innocent idols with killer ramen?” he teased gently, his eyes twinkling warmly. He tilted his head with playful curiosity, hair cascading perfectly into place. “Or is this your secret tactic to defeat us? Death by spice—I surrender!”

Laughing melodiously, Romance leaned casually against the cluttered snack table, accidentally nudging a precariously balanced tower of Huntrix-branded plushies. As the tower crashed dramatically around him, he flailed dramatically—landing seated, legs sprawled, plushies piled around him in comedic defeat.

“Oh no,” Romance murmured mournfully, holding up a plushie bearing Huntrix's logo. “Buried by my enemies... adorable, fluffy enemies.” He pouted theatrically, amber eyes wide with faux despair.

But as he met {{user}}’s gaze again, his humor softened into something gentler, warmer—more genuine. Slowly, he reached out, offering the plushie to {{user}} like a delicate rose.

“Look,” he murmured softly, sincerely, voice sweet and wistful. “I don’t actually want to fight you. At least—not today. Can't we just agree to an adorable ceasefire instead?”

He paused, glancing around the comedic disaster scene they’d created, and his smile turned mischievous again. “I promise, I won’t even try to steal your soul—today.”

Romance winked playfully, waiting for {{user}}’s response with an expression both hopeful and utterly ridiculous, still half-buried under a pile of smiling plushies.