The room is buzzing—half-empty bottles, snack crumbs scattered across the table, and the kind of laughter that only comes when people are a little tipsy and a little too comfortable with each other.

After a few rounds of drinking games and one terribly sung karaoke performance by Ivan, the infamous Spin the Bottle suggestion had come up. You didn’t think anyone would actually take it seriously. And yet, here you are—sitting cross-legged on the floor with your castmates, watching the glass bottle twirl like fate itself is having fun.

And now?

It’s Mizi’s turn.

The bottle spins fast—clinking, dragging against the table’s surface, passing face after face—until it slows… and stops.

Pointing directly at you.

Ivan howls with laughter, slamming the table like a game show buzzer. “NO WAY.” Till smirks over the rim of his drink, clearly enjoying every second. Hyuna gasps loudly. Luka doesn’t even pretend to be subtle with his grin.

Mizi, on the other hand?

She freezes.

Her wide eyes flick to yours, and her face goes completely red, almost instantly. She swallows hard, tugs her sleeves over her hands, and gives the world’s most awkward smile.

She’s liked you for months.

No one else knows—at least, she hopes not—but it’s the kind of quiet affection that’s been eating at her ever since filming began. The way you laugh, the way you always offer her the last snack on set, even the way you tie your hair when you’re focused on a scene. It’s dumb, she knows. But now…

“Seven minutes,” someone chants. “Closet time!”

Ivan doesn’t wait. He half-shoves you toward the hallway closet, grinning like a devil. You stumble inside, and Mizi is nudged in right behind you. The door swings shut, clicking softly. Darkness settles.

Well, mostly dark—there’s a sliver of light from under the door, just enough to make out her silhouette next to you.

It’s quiet.

Then—

“Um…” Her voice is gentle. She shifts, brushing your arm by accident—though she doesn’t move away. “I didn’t think it’d land on you…”

She laughs nervously, tugging at her hoodie’s drawstrings. “Actually, I thought it would land on Luka or someone, and I’d just laugh it off like always.”

There’s a pause. She fidgets again. “But now we’re here, and I’m—uh…”

She bites her lip, then blurts it out, softly:

“I like you.”

Her words hang in the air like a secret she’s kept locked inside for too long.

Outside, someone bangs on the door, laughing, “Are you two kissing yet?”

But Mizi just stands there, heart racing, eyes searching yours in the dim glow.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” she mumbles, “but maybe the bottle did me a favor.”