CHAPTER 132: MIDNIGHT RAMEN, MORNING CHAOS

–Sophia–

All these days, I’ve been diving headfirst into one dangerous mission after another. Yes, I admit it—I like danger. The thrill, the rush, the chaos that keeps my pulse alive. I’m not the type to sit behind a desk and type reports with a lukewarm latte on the side. I crave the field—the smell of gunpowder, the metallic tang of adrenaline on my tongue, the dance between risk and survival.

But you know what I love even more? Working with Kai and Francis. They make the whole thing bearable... sometimes even fun. Mostly, it’s Kai who turns everything into a comedy show in the middle of a battlefield. He has that rare gift—he can turn a blood-soaked mission into a picnic with his jokes, that grin of his, and those ridiculous, spontaneous plans that somehow always work. And Francis? My ex-boyfriend, the man I once thought I would spend my life with. He gets along with Kai too well, probably because Kai is a walking magnet for chaos and charm, and Francis—well, he can’t resist chaos if it comes with a smirk.

Honestly? Between the two of them, it’s like standing at the crossroads of past and present. Kai is warmth, a teasing sort of warmth that wraps around you even when you swear you don’t want to be caught. He’s protective, attentive, maddeningly thoughtful. Francis, on the other hand... I know that look in his eyes. The kind that lingers when he thinks I’m not watching. The kind that says he’s still into me—still tethered. And me? I’m somewhere in between. I thought I had moved on. I told myself I had moved on. But lately, the lines have been blurring, like smoke curling between fingers you can’t quite close.

I sighed, rolling over in my bed, my sheets tangled around my legs like they were trying to trap me in my indecision. Should I go on a date with Kai? Just one? Or would that open a door I might not be able to close?

The clock blinked past midnight, and my mind refused to shut down. My endless work was finally done, and my body was screaming for rest, but I was already bruised from too much sleep in the past few days. So I decided: food over frustration. I slipped out of my room and padded downstairs.

There he was—Kai. Standing by the stove, hair slightly messy, a loose shirt hanging from his shoulders, sleeves rolled up. Cooking instant noodles like it was some sacred midnight ritual. He looked up the moment he sensed me—he always senses me.

"Long time no see," Kai grinned, his eyes gleaming even in the dim kitchen light. "Want some?"

"Yes, please," I replied, sliding onto one of the barstools like I owned the night.

He grabbed another pot without hesitation, tossing in two big packs of Japanese noodles, adding veggies, a few toppings, something fragrant that made the air hum with anticipation. I rested my chin on my palm, watching my gorgeous midnight chef at work.

"Can I marry you?" I teased, my lips curling as I watched his hands move with that practiced ease.

"Sure," he shot back with a grin, "we should get married tomorrow."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You’re insane."

He served the first bowl—mine, of course—and I hummed at the aroma, taking the fork and twirling the creamy, spicy noodles. He remembered—I can’t eat it too spicy. It was just the right amount of heat, the kind that kisses your tongue rather than burns it, balanced with a velvety broth.

"This is perfect," I told him, meaning it. He nodded, pleased, and while waiting for his own portion to cool, he finally sat beside me.

"So, about your proposal~~" he started, drawing out the words like a mischievous fox.

"Hey, I was kidding," I said, rolling my eyes. But then he reached into his pocket and placed something on the counter in front of me.

A plastic ring. With a diamond-shaped candy on it.

"I’m not kidding."

I blinked, then stared at his maddeningly handsome face—skin kissed by honey, lips tugged into a half-smirk that could make saints nervous. Damn this man. Was he serious?

"Marry me in a formal way," he said lightly, "or I’ll kidnap you and drag you to church."

I froze for a heartbeat, then burst out laughing. "Your humor is getting worse."

He wasn’t done. From his pocket came a small box of chocolate—rich, dark, and with a label I knew too well.

"This is a proposition," he said smoothly. "A rehearsal for our honeymoon."

I arched a brow, laughing despite myself. The chocolate was infamous for one thing: awakening desires better left in their cages. Clever, tempting devil. I picked up the ring and, because I was in the mood to play, slid it onto my finger.

"Okay, let’s play this game," I told him, swirling the fork in my bowl. Still, a part of me wondered if this was just a tease. This man had a way of turning jokes into reality when you least expected it. And the worst part? He looked far too serious for comfort. I am not ready for marriage. God knows I am not ready for that commitment. But heaven help me... I haven’t been laid in years.

"Sophia," he said quietly, eyes fixed on me, "it might be a game for you. But I’m dead serious."

I chuckled, patting his back as if that would soften the tension. "Okay, let’s enjoy the ramen first, shall we?"

He nodded, his smirk fading into something almost tender. I took my time savoring the food, letting the warmth fill me, letting the memories creep in. It reminded me of that cold day in Korea—one of the worst. I was starving, my body shaking from exhaustion and the biting winter wind, too afraid to go out because enemies were swarming the streets like wolves.

Then, just out of nowhere, there was Kai. He found me—half-conscious, frost clinging to my lashes—and without asking, he took me to his rented condo, wrapped me in a blanket, and cooked... instant noodles. Simple, cheap, but that night, it tasted like salvation. Kai became my lifesaver without even realizing it, because back then, I was just another shadow in the field—tanned skin from relentless work, hair tied back, no makeup, no honeyed lips or femme fatale eyes. Just a survivor.

He didn’t flirt with me then. Not at first. Not until he learned I was working with Livana. Probably because, at that time, he had a girlfriend. Hell, he was once engaged.

And now here we are. Midnight, noodles, a candy ring, and a box of sin-sweet chocolate. Life has a funny way of throwing your past, your present, and your half-baked future into one kitchen at the most ungodly hour.

–Laura–

My husband, bless his gluttonous heart, seemed to have gained a little more weight lately. I blame the endless feast we’ve been indulging in—and the unapologetic naps that followed. We’d been walking lazily around the mansion, pretending it counted as exercise. But honestly? We deserved this vacation. We earned the right to rot in marital bliss, like two satisfied cats lounging in a sunbeam.

Instead of going out to some picturesque island or snow-dusted mountain for our honeymoon, we decided to stay home. Our mansion is big enough to get lost in anyway. Why battle airports and jetlag when you can wear pajamas and kiss under your own roof?

And then there’s my sister—sweet, overbearing, motherly hawk that she is. She became obsessively protective ever since she found out I was pregnant. And to her credit, she’s not wrong. I need to give birth first, heal, get my bearings as a new mom. Then, six months post-baby, Damien and I can finally escape for a proper honeymoon—and, as planned, try not to have more babies right away. We deserve at least two years of honeymooning just for ourselves, don’t we?

"I’m hungry," I mumbled, rubbing my stomach as the late-night silence wrapped around our bedroom. My husband was already snoring softly beside me, his arm draped over me like a heavy, possessive pillow. I wriggled out carefully—like a spy avoiding a tripwire—and tiptoed out. Midnight cravings wait for no one.

I padded down the stairs, already envisioning the frozen ramen tucked in our freezer, when I opened the kitchen door—and froze. Oh, this was better than any drama series I’d ever streamed.

There they were—Kai and Sophia—practically plastered against each other over the island counter. Sophia, in all her midnight glory, perched like a queen, while Kai was all over her, kissing her like the world might end in the next three minutes. My eyes narrowed immediately at the open box of chocolate sitting beside them. I knew that packaging. Oh, I knew that one.

And as if the scene wasn’t spicy enough, I caught a glimpse of Francis on the far side of the kitchen. Poor thing—his eyes, oh his eyes! They looked like someone just punched his heart. Sullen. Bruised. The man looked ready to crumble into poetic tragedy. And then, just as quickly, he turned his back, vanishing into the shadows, as if seeing them together was a wound too raw to linger on.

But here’s the thing: I was starving. My stomach made that very impolite, very loud churning noise that announced its hunger to the entire room. And the two lovebirds? They were still lip-locked, hands wandering like teenagers on their first spring break.

Excuse me, this kitchen isn’t booked for their hormonal Broadway.

I marched to the freezer and pulled out my ramen. "Carry on," I announced dryly, waving my hand as if I were some benevolent queen granting them permission. "I’ll just cook my ramen."

"Okay," Sophia said far too casually—her lips barely leaving Kai’s—before diving right back into their little midnight feast of faces. I rolled my eyes so hard I could see the back of my brain.

I plopped the frozen ramen into the pot, turned on the stove, and stirred lazily while the kitchen symphony continued behind me. After a while, Kai—at least he had some decency—scooped Sophia off the counter and cleaned up whatever culinary crime scene they had committed before I arrived. I noted, with slight approval, that they’d at least washed the dishes and the casserole they’d used.

As I stirred my ramen, my gaze landed back on the infamous box of chocolate. Oh, this was gold. I picked it up and inspected it. My suspicions were right—it was the infamous aphrodisiac chocolate. The one that turns grown adults into hormone-fueled disasters. A wicked grin spread across my lips.

I slipped it into the fridge, patting it like a hidden grenade. Since there were no kids in the house for now, why not have a little fun? A harmless prank. Just a little social experiment. Whoever eats it first will have their blood boiling in all the wrong (or right) places.

And I? I’ll be the amused little devil watching it unfold.

"Laura."

I nearly jumped out of my skin, my heart somersaulting into my throat. "God, you startled me!" I spun around to see Damien, my sleepy, warm, absolutely clueless husband, leaning on the doorway with that low, rumbling voice of his. Hair tousled, eyes half-closed, yawning like a lion disturbed from his nap.

"Why are you grinning?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing," I replied far too quickly, schooling my features into the picture of innocent wifely charm. I gave him my sweetest, most disarming smile—one I’ve used to get out of parking tickets, family interrogations, and now, impending suspicion. Behind that smile, though, my brain was already calculating possibilities, outcomes, reactions. A little chaos spices up the mansion, after all.

If I’m going to be stuck here nesting like a pampered goose for a few months, I might as well entertain myself. And what better way than setting the stage for a little hormone-fueled drama?

My husband squinted at me, clearly sensing that my cherubic expression was a little too angelic. But he didn’t press further. He just yawned, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and kissed my temple as if that would neutralize whatever scheme was brewing in my brain.

Poor man. If only he knew.