My father stayed seated longer than necessary.
That alone was dangerous.
Ha-rin had just finished her tea, hands wrapped around the cup, posture tense but controlled. The atmosphere felt… stable.
Too stable.
My father broke it.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "your mother would faint if she knew."
Internally, something clicked.
Mother.Statement incomplete.Probability of catastrophe: rising.
"Knew what," Ha-rin asked cautiously.
I spoke at the same time as my father.
"Father—"
"That she's already getting a grandchild," he finished.
Silence.
Absolute.
Ha-rin's brain stopped first.
Then mine followed.
Grandchild.Declared.Out loud.
Ha-rin's face turned red.
Then redder.
Then dangerously warm-looking.
"…W-What," she said.
My father nodded seriously. "You're carrying her grandchild, aren't you?"
Emergency mode activated.
Internally, calculations exploded.
Mother hears this:• Calls friends• Cries loudly• Buys baby clothes• Tells strangers• Posts photos• Ends civilization
Conclusion:Danger. Immediate containment required.
"Father," I said evenly, "that information is classified."
Ha-rin turned slowly toward me.
Her ears were bright red.
"…Your mother," she said, voice tight, "would call it her grandchild."
"Yes," I replied.
"…Not like— 'future.'"
"No."
"…Like— right now."
"Yes."
Her face heated further.
"Tch—!" she snapped, suddenly flustered. "Why does he say it like that so casually?!"
"That is biologically accurate phrasing," I said.
She stood up abruptly.
"STOP TALKING LIKE THAT!"
My father blinked. "Is that incorrect?"
"No!" she said. "I mean— it's—!"
She waved her hands uselessly.
"I'm not— I didn't— you don't just—!"
Her eyes flicked to me.
"And YOU!"
"Yes."
"Why aren't you embarrassed?!"
"I am," I replied.
She stared. "…You don't look it."
"I am experiencing it internally."
"That's WORSE!"
My father watched with interest.
"…You two argue like an old married couple," he said.
"WE ARE NOT," Ha-rin shouted.
I nodded. "Correct."
She turned even redder.
"WHY DO YOU AGREE SO CALMLY?!"
"Because shouting would not reduce your heart rate."
She made a strangled noise.
My father smiled faintly.
"My wife would be thrilled," he said. "A grandchild from—"
"NO," I said immediately.
Both of them looked at me.
"My mother," I continued calmly, "must never hear that sentence."
Ha-rin blinked. "…Never?"
"Never."
"…Why."
"Because," I said, "she would announce it to the world."
My father nodded. "She once told a cashier that you were born early."
"I was standing there," I added.
Ha-rin paled.
"…She talks to cashiers?"
"She talks to everyone," I replied.
"…About personal things?"
"Yes."
Ha-rin grabbed the edge of the table.
"…If she finds out I'm pregnant with her grandchild," she said slowly, "I am finished."
"That is accurate," I said.
My father raised both hands. "I won't tell her."
"You just said it out loud," Ha-rin snapped.
"To you," he corrected.
"That's worse!"
She turned to me, cheeks still flushed.
"…This is your fault."
"That seems unlikely," I said.
"You exist," she shot back. "That's enough."
I accepted that.
She crossed her arms, still blushing.
"…And don't let him say things like that again."
"Like what."
"Like grandchild," she muttered.
"It is technically—"
She glared.
"…Don't."
I stopped.
My father chuckled softly.
"You're very protective," he said to me.
"I am cautious," I replied.
Ha-rin glanced at me from the corner of her eye.
"…Idiot," she muttered.
But her voice was softer than before.
And that, somehow, felt more dangerous than panic.