The grand ballroom was a sea of silk dresses, tailored suits, and champagne glasses. Guests mingled under glittering chandeliers, exchanging pleasantries and toasting to the newlyweds. Beomgyu stood beside Yeonjun, their arms brushing occasionally, though neither acknowledged it.

"Smile more," Yeonjun whispered, his voice teasing as he leaned closer. "You look like you're at a funeral."

"I feel like I'm at one," Beomgyu muttered, forcing a strained grin as another guest approached to congratulate them.

"You two are a match made in heaven," an older woman cooed, clasping her hands together.

Yeonjun's arm slid around Beomgyu's waist with practiced ease, pulling him closer. "Thank you," he said smoothly, his tone dripping with charm. "I'd say it was fate."

Beomgyu stiffened but didn't pull away, knowing that any slip-up could shatter the facade they had worked so hard to build.

As the evening wore on, Beomgyu's discomfort only grew. He caught glimpses of his father and Yeonjun's parents, their approving smiles reminding him of the weight on his shoulders. This wasn't just a marriage; it was a power play, a spectacle for the mafia world to marvel at.

"You okay?" Yeonjun asked softly, his voice cutting through Beomgyu's spiraling thoughts.

Beomgyu looked up, surprised by the genuine concern in Yeonjun's eyes. "I'm fine," he lied.

Yeonjun didn't press further, but his gaze lingered a moment longer before he turned back to the crowd, his charm switching back on like a light.

By the time they returned to their shared quarters, the weight of the day had left Beomgyu drained. He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his temples.

Yeonjun walked in behind him, undoing his bowtie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. "You survived," he said lightly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the bar cart in the corner.

"Barely," Beomgyu muttered, his eyes closed.

Yeonjun chuckled, sitting down across from him. "You know, for someone who hates this arrangement, you played your part well. I almost believed you liked me."

Beomgyu opened one eye, glaring at him. "Don't get used to it."

Yeonjun smirked, taking a sip of his drink. "You're fun to rile up, you know that?"

Beomgyu ignored him, leaning back against the cushions. Silence stretched between them, heavy but not entirely uncomfortable.

After a moment, Yeonjun set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So," he said, his tone unusually serious, "what now?"

Beomgyu frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Yeonjun said, gesturing vaguely, "we're married. We've sold the story to everyone else. But what about us? How do we... do this?"

Beomgyu stared at him, caught off guard by the question. He had expected Yeonjun to be cocky, dismissive—anything but this.

"I don't know," Beomgyu admitted after a long pause. "But I guess we'll figure it out."

Yeonjun nodded, his expression thoughtful. Then, a faint smirk returned to his lips. "One thing's for sure, though. I meant what I said before—if we're doing this, I'm the top."

Beomgyu flushed, throwing a pillow at Yeonjun's head. "You're impossible!"

Yeonjun laughed, catching the pillow with ease. "And you're predictable. But hey, at least we're not boring."

For the first time that day, Beomgyu found himself smiling—a real, unguarded smile.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Beomgyu had finally settled into the couch, his suit jacket discarded and his tie loosened. The exhaustion of the day was beginning to take over, his limbs heavy and his mind foggy. Across the room, Yeonjun had kicked back in an armchair, sipping the last of his whiskey with a satisfied smirk.

"You know," Yeonjun began, his tone light and teasing, "now that we're married, people are going to start asking when we're having kids."

Beomgyu froze mid-sip of his water, coughing as he nearly choked. He set the glass down, glaring at Yeonjun. "What?"

Yeonjun shrugged, the smirk on his face widening. "I'm just saying. Mafia heirs love to gossip. They'll probably expect us to pop out a little prodigy or something."

Beomgyu flushed, his ears burning. "First of all, that's not how it works. Second of all, you're insane if you think—"

"Oh, relax," Yeonjun interrupted, chuckling. "I'm kidding. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Beomgyu repeated, his voice rising in disbelief.

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, resting his arms on the sides. "I mean, think about it. If we had a kid, they'd probably be a badass. A mix of your brains and my charm? Unstoppable."

Beomgyu stared at him, utterly speechless. "You've completely lost it."

Yeonjun laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're cute when you're flustered."

Beomgyu grabbed a cushion from the couch and threw it at him. "You're ridiculous."

Yeonjun caught the cushion with ease, his grin never faltering. "But seriously," he said, his voice softening slightly, "we should think about what we want out of this... whatever this is. Forget what our families expect for a second. What do you want, Gyu?"

The question caught Beomgyu off guard, the teasing atmosphere suddenly shifting into something heavier. He looked away, his gaze falling to his hands in his lap. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I've never had the chance to think about that."

Yeonjun's smirk faded, replaced by something softer. "Well," he said after a moment, "maybe we can figure it out. Together."

Beomgyu glanced at him, his expression unreadable. For the first time that night, Yeonjun looked serious—not the playful, cocky man Beomgyu had come to expect, but someone who might actually care.

It was a small moment, but it lingered between them, unspoken promises woven into the silence.

"Fine," Beomgyu said finally, his voice steady. "But we're not having kids."

Yeonjun's laugh filled the room, breaking the tension. "Whatever you say, Gyu."

But the twinkle in his eyes told Beomgyu that Yeonjun wasn't done teasing him—not by a long shot.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧