Madness for Two 🎬 yungi [▶]

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Yeosang half-ran the moment she saw Yunho standing at the edge of the red carpet.

Yunho had just finished posing for the press—flashes lighting his face like a battlefield. As expected, he politely declined every interview, throwing them his signature awkward smile. Then he gestured toward Yeosang, standing stiffly at the far end of the hallway, arms crossed and heels echoing sharp warnings against the marble. Some reporters chuckled. Everyone in the industry knew where Yunho went, his fiery manager followed like a storm cloud in Dior.

“Come with me,” Yeosang said under her breath, firm as tempered steel. She didn’t wait for a response. She simply turned on her heel, black satin dress sweeping behind her like a warning siren.

Yunho caught up, grinning like a man too used to walking into danger. “Love the dress, by the way,” he whispered.

Yeosang shot him a glare. Yunho should have known better. When she was angry, compliments were gasoline. Silence was the safer fire escape.

But of course, Yunho always had to say something.

It was just like him—laughing on the edge of catastrophe, smiling on the verge of a breakdown.

Yeosang didn’t stop until they were behind a plastic ficus near the grand theater doors. The overhead chandelier bathed them in golden guilt.

“We need to shut this down,” Yeosang hissed. “Now.”

Yunho leaned against the wall and exhaled dramatically. “It’ll blow over.”

“Don’t,” Yeosang said. Her eyes, sharp and shining, pinned him in place. “Don’t use that stupid line again.”

“Why not?” Yunho shrugged. “It usually does. The public has the attention span of a drunk moth.”

“This isn’t some scandal you can dance through, Yunho. You and Mingi are everywhere. They’re calling you the love story of the year. And if you break that illusion—if you leave him—you're not just the heartbreaker. You're the monster.”

He flinched. Visibly. And Yeosang’s voice softened, just slightly.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” she said. “I’m trying to save you. From them. And from yourself.”

Yunho chuckled hollowly. “I’ve been hated by a country before, Yeosang. I survived it. Barely.”

Yeosang crossed her arms. “Until the next time you decide to slice your artery?”

Yunho went still.

The silence that followed was vicious. It clawed down the center of Yeosang’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said instantly. “That was—”

“We said we wouldn’t talk about that.”

“I know. But Yunho, this isn’t a comeback. This is a repeat. And you—God, you’re playing right into it.”

Yunho closed his eyes. For a long second, the noise of the theater melted away. The applause. The footsteps. The whispers. All gone.

“Mingi says he likes me,” he said finally. “He wants to go public.”

Yeosang blinked. Once. Twice.

“And you believe him?”

“I want to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Yunho looked down. The floor felt more honest than her eyes. “He’s never liked anyone before. Not publicly. Not seriously. But now he wants me to meet his mom. He holds my hand like he means it.”