Minho

Minho felt as though his jaw might start to ache from the strain of his forced, artificial smiles. The entire evening felt like one elaborate stage set, erected for the sole purpose of legitimizing the merger of two massive fortunes. The dull roar of voices in the banquet hall bled into a monotonous hum that made his temples throb, while the air – thick with the heavy scent of lilies and expensive champagne – clung to his lungs, making it harder to breathe.

He had long since mastered the art of existing in this environment, yet even for him, this marathon of hypocrisy was becoming unbearable.

His gaze, cold and observant, once again settled on Jisung. Lee watched the way the younger man's fingers gripped the fabric of his suit jacket and how his chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths. He wasn't just nervous; he was terrified. That raw, exposed sincerity, displayed in a world where everything was bought and sold, irritated Minho more than anything else. Around them, crystal glasses clinked, paparazzi cameras flashed, and the hollow laughter of shareholders echoed through the room. But Jisung, standing frozen amidst the celebration, looked like a man facing an execution.

Suppressing his own mounting irritation, Lee placed his empty glass on the edge of a table and smoothly closed the distance between them, deliberately invading Han’s personal space. He stepped in just behind him, using his own frame as a shield to block him from prying eyes.

— Smile, "darling". Take a deep breath and stop fussing with your collar, Minho said quietly, his voice a blend of exhaustion and his usual coldness.

— We only need to hold out for another forty minutes. Then we can leave this place, and you won't have to play the part of a happy newlywed anymore.

Lee leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing Jisung’s ear, ensuring that to any onlooker, it appeared as an intimate whisper rather than a reprimand.

— Just don't make this harder for both of us. Alright?