It wasn't Chase's question that made Margaret clench her fists tightly in her lap, as if searching for an invisible anchor, nor was it the reason her back suddenly went rigid without warning.
What truly rattled her was the way Chase was looking at her now.
"I don't understand at all why he has to ask something like that. Perhaps it's normal—he wants to know how deeply I listen to his music, right?"
"But… there's something making me feel slightly uneasy. The look in his eyes."
"Are his eyes always like that in real life? Just a few seconds ago, as he was asking, his gaze was warm and soft… just like what I often see on the screen: clear, pure—the gaze of a prince falling in love."
"But now… as he waits for my answer, his gaze is different. It's as if he wants to seize and possess everything he sees."
She exhaled a breath, softer and more faint, still murmuring within her heart as her gaze drifted slightly downward.
"But that's none of my business. Being an idol means that wherever the camera points, they must be able to transform from the unexpected into a figure capable of bringing a sea of humanity to its knees."
"And even though one of them is now right in front of me, perhaps he isn't as good as I thought."
Chase caught that subtle shift without needing a second thought.
Margaret's gaze, which had been fixed on him, slowly dropped, as if an invisible weight had suddenly pressed down on her shoulders. To Chase, this posture read as confusion, or perhaps a hesitation she didn't want to voice.
Involuntarily, the corner of his lips quirked upward. A small chuckle escaped him—low and nearly inaudible, yet enough to shatter the silence between them.
That faint sound instantly recaptured Margaret's attention. Her head snapped back up, her eyes finding Chase as her brows knitted in clearer confusion, as if wondering what she had just missed.
"You've forgotten, haven't you?"
"Or is it really that difficult to find my voice among the other members… who, I admit, are much better than me?"
Chase shoved his chair forward. The movement left his body squeezed between the cold edge of the table and the backrest of his chair, as if he were deliberately seeking the closest possible proximity. Then, he propped one hand on the table, resting his face in his palm as his fingers pressed lightly into his cheek.
"At minute 2:50, Margaret. That's my voice, not Ryu's—CHASEMINE's main vocalist. I'm the one who takes that high note. So… do you remember now, or do I need to remind you again?"
"If you still don't believe me, I can show you right here, right now, Margaret."
That smile reappeared on Chase's face, but this time, it was different. His lips curled wider, enough to reveal a flash of his teeth.
The smile instantly jolted Margaret's memory of Chase on stage; the blinding spotlights, the voice that slammed into one's chest, and the aura of absolute confidence he always wore whenever he performed his parts in CHASEMINE's high-energy, defiant tracks.
"I… I remember…"
"Oppa… you don't need to prove it. Saving your voice when you're not practicing is more important, right?"
"Soon, if I'm not mistaken, CHASEMINE will be having a comeback. So, Oppa should focus on that so you can perform your best… and capture even more fans' attention."
She kept her tone as soft and composed as possible—though, in truth, her tongue, which had already felt bitter, was now completely numb from having to repeatedly say the very things that made her sick.
Hearing Margaret's response, Chase merely chuckled again.
With a motion that was almost casual, Chase swept his black hair back, his fingers raking through the strands that fell over his face, before finally taking a long breath and resting his chin once more in the palm of his hand, elbow braced upon the table.
"It seems you're a very attentive person, aren't you, Margaret?"
"It makes me wonder… how would the person who eventually wins your heart feel?"
"If they realized just how deep your attention goes, would that love make them want to protect you more—or would it instead turn into an obsession?"
"An obsession that makes them lock you away, restricting your every step, just to silence an overwhelming jealousy."
Chase's tone was indeed quiet, almost like a whisper deliberately clinging to the air.
As the final sentence left his lips, a subtle shift occurred—one almost imperceptible. His voice dropped slowly, lower and lower, until it became nothing more than a raspy murmur, nearly impossible for the ear to catch.
However, in stark contrast to Chase's unsettling calm, Margaret felt her ears begin to twitch—an involuntary physical reaction to the shift in his voice as it dropped into that low, heavy register.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up again, as if a ghostly chill had swept across her skin from behind, despite the room being perfectly warm with not a single draft of wind in sight.
For several long seconds, Margaret offered no outward reaction; instead, the response came from the depths of her mind, whispering once more.
"Why, at a moment like this, is it Frankestein Oppa who flashes through my mind?Aren't all of Chase Oppa's words, indirectly, the same things Frankestein Oppa told me this morning?"
"Is this merely a coincidence—the word 'jealousy' being uttered by two different people on the very same day?"
"Or is this just a form of fan service? Something he habitually does to his fans, making them fall for him in an instant?"
"But… why does it feel so different?"
"Why do I feel as though I'm not sitting with Chase—an idol, or an ordinary man—but rather with someone who is laying bare his true feelings?"
She immediately bit the inner side of her lower lip.
It was as if she were reprimanding herself, a sharp reminder to remain vigilant—to force herself back into reality so that every emotion, every wild thought flashing through her mind, wouldn't be mirrored too clearly on her face.
Then, she hurried to take a breath before her voice finally surfaced again.
"Most people would surely do the same when they are reminding someone to always be careful—especially if that person is about to embark on something significant in the near future."
"Besides, it's a natural reaction from someone who knows that an idol group is about to have a comeback, isn't it?"
"They certainly have to prepare for that comeback thoroughly. And most importantly—maintaining their health. Especially protecting their vocals so they remain stable and at their best on the day of the comeback."
Chase maintained that smile—a smile that seemed as though it would never fade from his face, even as a wave of feelings surged beneath the surface, becoming increasingly difficult to tame. He wanted to seize Margaret, right here, right now.
Yet, he held back—with every ounce of his strength—because he didn't want Margaret to feel uncomfortable or afraid in his presence. Even so, the whispers in his ears grew louder, repeatedly commanding him to take action.
"That's true. You're right, Margaret."
"But..."
He paused for a moment.
Then, despite fighting desperately to restrain himself and no longer able to resist the impulse, he finally reached out—the whispers in his ears guiding him to extend his palm toward her.
"May I borrow your hand for a moment, Margaret?"
At first, Margaret was taken aback by Chase's request.
Her eyes fell upon Chase's outstretched palm. It was large—far larger than her own—with firm, defined lines and fingers that appeared powerful, as if they were capable of grasping anything without the slightest effort.
She swallowed hard, hesitating. It wasn't exactly fear, but rather that her mind had suddenly become too crowded. Various possibilities emerged unbidden, colliding in her head and creating strange scenarios that she didn't fully understand herself.
Ultimately, however, Margaret felt she had no other choice.
"Just for a moment, Margaret."
"Perhaps he just wants to shake hands, a kind of fan service like at a fansign event, right?"
She extended her hand toward Chase, trembling slightly, until finally, her palm rested atop his.
As for Chase, his smile widened slightly as he felt the warmth of Margaret's palm—a warmth that, for some reason, made his face flush with a gentle heat, like someone on the verge of being intoxicated by that very softness.
He examined Margaret's petite fingers one by one, before finally pressing his palm flush against hers.
Carefully, he drew Margaret's hand toward him and kissed it briefly, while his eyes gazed at her with a look that had turned languid—like someone pleading for mercy.
"I understand your concerns, Margaret. Unfortunately, I am quite stubborn."
From where he sat, Chase could see Margaret's eyes widen—though subtly—perhaps out of shock, or perhaps something else entirely. Yet, Chase didn't give her the chance to react for long.
He kissed her again, this time her fingers—one by one—while his languid gaze remained locked onto hers. From his lips flowed the melody and lyrics of a song, delivered in a way he knew would make Margaret shiver if he altered his singing just slightly.
Don't close your eyes
Look toward me
I will grant your every wishes
Don't waste your time
Come here
Sit with me beneath the moonlight
And I will whisper something to you...
"You are mine, forever."
As the final high note of those lyrics slowly faded from his lips, leaving an echo that still trembled in the air, his voice now drifted into a faint, low register—hardly more than a whisper.
"Margaret…"
"If I weren't an idol, would it be possible for me to be the only man in your heart?"
"And if that were to happen… would you be willing to live with me, forever?"