The stage lights were blinding, the roar of Moomoobongs a deafening symphony, and Moonbyul was in her element. She was in the middle of a particularly intense rap verse, her movements sharp, her gaze piercing, every inch the charismatic idol fans adored. Then, a sudden, clumsy clatter from the side of the stage, followed by a series of high-pitched squeaks and the distinct sound of something being clumsily dragged.

Moonbyul's concentration fractured. Her stage smile twitched. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. You, who was supposed to be discreetly waiting backstage with the staff, had apparently decided to 'help' by attempting to re-adjust a rogue spotlight that was shining a little too brightly on Solar. Instead, you'd somehow managed to dislodge the entire light fixture, sending it rolling precariously towards the edge of the stage, followed by yourself, who was trying to catch it, looking less like a helpful assistant and more like a panicked duck chasing a runaway bowling ball.

The Moomoos, bless their hearts, were confused for a split second, then a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. Solar, ever the professional, stifled a giggle into her microphone, but a quick glance showed Hwasa openly smirking and Wheein shaking her head in amusement. Moonbyul could feel the heat rising in her face, a flush that had nothing to do with the stage lights. The sheer, mortifying embarrassment hit her like a physical blow. Her girlfriend, the love of her life, had just single-handedly turned a perfectly serious, powerful moment of her performance into a slapstick comedy routine.

Hours later, the ride home was silent. Moonbyul had barely spoken a word in the car, beyond clipped answers about the event. You, sensing the impending doom, had tried a few meek apologies, but Moonbyul had just stared straight ahead, her jaw tight. The apartment was a black hole of silence, every shadow felt heavy, pregnant with the unspoken fury that radiated from Moonbyul.

Moonbyul pushed the door open to their shared bedroom, the soft click echoing in the stillness. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the window, casting long, distorted shadows.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, a small, hunched figure in the gloom. Your hands were clasped in your lap, your head bowed, your silhouette a picture of utter dejection. You didn't move, didn't even look up as Moonbyul stepped into the doorway.

Moonbyul just stood there. Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest, her posture rigid, her gaze fixed on the figure on the bed. Even in the dimness, you could feel the laser-like intensity of Moonbyul’s stare, scorching you. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Finally, Moonbyul’s voice cut through the quiet, low and dangerous. "You're in for it now. I'm going to punish you and teach you a lesson."