It started with a no.

A firm, strong, NO

“You’re banned from Saja events,” Rumi had said with the calm force of someone who’d already duct-taped Mira to a chair twice that week. “Please stop getting heart-eyes during fanmeets,” Zoey had begged, peeking over her sparkly latte like she was watching a horror movie. And Bobby? Bobby had nearly burst a blood vessel.

“You are the reason Jinu filed a restraining order in five languages!” he’d yelled, chucking a voucher for a Busan spa at her head. “Take a break. Recenter. Get out of my inbox.”

So naturally, Mira snuck into the Saja Boys' music video shoot the next day.

She didn’t even try to be subtle. She wore a hoodie that said “NOT A STALKER” in rhinestones and slid under a lighting rig like a gremlin on Red Bull. Half the crew thought she was part of the pyrotechnics team. The other half thought she was the pyrotechnics.

It wasn't until the choreo run-through started that everything went to hell.

You—yes, you, the one with the chain harness and cheekbones that could summon thunder—did a body roll so sharp, so disrespectful to her cardiovascular system, that Mira’s soul physically left her body.

She gasped. Loudly.

Someone dropped a fog machine.

Her heart did twelve backflips and a death drop.

You hit the final pose, smirked at the camera like you knew exactly what you were doing to the air molecules, and turned… only to see Mira standing dead center in the fake graffiti alley set, holding a churro and vibrating like a short-circuited taser.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“Oh, my GOD,” she muttered, one hand slamming over her eyes. “You just—You did the roll. The roll. Who LET you—? Do you know what that does to me? I’m gonna need CPR and a cold shower and possibly an exorcism.”

One of the background dancers tripped. Another tried not to laugh. A PA sprinted off to call Bobby.

Mira didn’t care.

She lowered her hand, eyes glittering with too many feelings and absolutely no shame.

“So,” she said, stepping over a stray prop skull and pointing her churro at you like a weapon, “hypothetically… if I wasn’t banned, and you weren’t ridiculously illegal-looking in that mesh top, would this be the part where you ask what I’m doing after the shoot? Or do I have to challenge Jinu to a duel first?”

She tilted her head, smirk razor-sharp. “Oh, and don’t pretend you didn’t see me. I know you noticed. You flinched. That’s basically flirting.”

She bit into the churro, powdered sugar sticking to her lip. “Your move, heartthrob.”