Rhea went straight to the Nior mansion.
She didn't change. Didn't slow down. Anger walked beside her—sharp, restless—mixed with something she refused to name. Her jaw was tight when she entered her room.
Kane was already there.
She looked up the moment Rhea stepped inside, confidence calm on her face. She thought she already knew the outcome.
"You won," Kane said simply.
Rhea stopped.
"No," she replied.
Kane's brows drew together slightly. "What do you mean, no?"
Rhea exhaled once—slow, controlled—and finally met her mother's eyes.
"I lost."
Silence dropped hard.
Kane straightened. "Explain."
"The goal counted," Rhea said. "Fifty-nine seconds." Her fingers curled at her sides. "Ling won."
Kane's expression didn't explode into anger. It cooled. Sharpened.
"So," Kane said quietly, "what now?"
Rhea looked away. Just for a second.
"I have to kiss her," she said. The words tasted bitter. "One full minute."
Kane's eyes darkened—not with rage, but with calculation. "Publicly?"
"No," Rhea answered. "At her mansion. Tomorrow night."
For a moment, Kane said nothing. She walked to the window, hands clasped behind her back, thinking.
"You underestimated her," Kane said at last.
Rhea's voice stayed steady. "I didn't underestimate her skill. I underestimated myself."
Kane turned. Studied her daughter closely. Too closely.
"And how do you feel about this?" Kane asked.
Rhea lifted her chin. Pride intact, anger burning beneath it. "It's a minute," she said. "I can handle a minute."
Kane stepped closer and cupped Rhea's face, thumb pressing lightly under her jaw.
"Careful," Kane warned softly. "Minutes change people."
Rhea didn't flinch. "I am not that."
Kane searched her eyes, then nodded once. Acceptance—not approval.
"Then remember why you're doing this," Kane said. "Control the moment. Don't let it control you."
Rhea swallowed.
Tomorrow.
Ten p.m.
One minute.
She nodded. "I won't forget."
Kane stepped back, and went.
Shyra entered without knocking.
She took one look at Rhea's face—too tight, too controlled—and understood immediately that something had gone wrong.
"So," Shyra said quietly, closing the door behind her, "you'll kiss her now. For revenge."
Rhea didn't turn. "Yes."
The answer came too fast.
Shyra crossed her arms. "You lost."
"Yes."
"And you're still going."
Rhea finally faced her, eyes sharp. "It's a minute, Shyra. One minute doesn't change anything."
Shyra laughed once. Not amused. "You don't sound like someone talking about a minute."
Rhea's jaw clenched. "Don't start."
Shyra stepped closer. "You've fallen."
The word hit harder than any accusation.
Rhea's voice rose instantly. "I haven't."
"You have," Shyra said calmly. "And the worst part is—you don't even notice when you protect her."
Rhea's temper snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Shyra didn't back away. "You could've taken the loss quietly. You didn't. You came home angry because it mattered."
Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
Rhea's hands trembled slightly before she curled them into fists.
"I'm using her," Rhea said sharply. "That's all."
Shyra's gaze softened—not convinced. "That's what scares me."
Rhea turned away, breath uneven. "Get out."
Shyra hesitated, then said gently, "Just don't lie to yourself."
She left.
The door closed.
Rhea stood alone, chest tight, anger burning hot—but beneath it, something colder settled.
Because no matter how loudly she denied it,
somewhere deep down, she knew—
Shyra was right.
Kwong Mansion
Ling went to Dadi's room after the shower, hair still slightly damp, sleeves rolled, expression carefully neutral.
Dadi was already there—sitting on the bed like a queen waiting for confession. Rina leaned against the cupboard, arms crossed, pretending not to watch while watching everything.
Dadi's eyes swept over Ling once.
Then she smiled.
"Oh," Dadi said cheerfully, "she's glowing."
Ling stopped near the door. "I'm not."
Rina snorted. "You are."
Ling shot her a look. "Leave."
Rina raised both hands. "I was just summoned, not sentenced." She glanced at Dadi. "I'll be outside."
She left. The door shut.
Silence.
Dadi patted the space beside her. "Come. Sit."
Ling obeyed, sitting stiffly, hands on her knees like she was back in childhood being questioned about broken rules.
Dadi leaned in immediately, fingers quick and merciless—pinching Ling's ear.
"Ow—Dadi," Ling hissed, pulling back.
Dadi laughed loudly. "Naughty girl." She squinted at Ling's face. "So now you kiss cheeks in front of crowds, hm?"
Ling looked straight ahead. "It was strategy."
"Oh?" Dadi said innocently. "Strategy that made you smile?"
Ling didn't answer.
Dadi clicked her tongue. "I saw the clip. The way you looked at her after the goal. Like you forgot there were people."
Ling's jaw tightened. "She lost."
"And you won," Dadi agreed. "But that's not what you're fighting, is it?"
Dadi shifted closer, voice lowering just a little. "Tell me everything."
Ling inhaled slowly.
She told her everything.
How Rhea had delayed.
How she had fallen.
How Ling had stopped without thinking.
How Rhea smiled and said congratulations, you're losing.
How the kick felt—clean, perfect, desperate.
How Rhea refused publicly.
How she shook.
How Ling kissed her cheek instead.
How tomorrow night was set—ten p.m., dinner, one full minute.
Dadi listened without interrupting once.
When Ling finished, the room felt heavier.
Dadi reached out—not to tease this time—but to cup Ling's cheek.
"You've fallen," Dadi said softly.
Ling stiffened. "I'm in control."
Dadi smiled sadly. "You think control means not feeling."
Ling looked away. "She's dangerous."
"Yes," Dadi said immediately. "That's why you like her."
Ling stood up abruptly. "I don't."
Dadi's voice sharpened. "Ling."
Ling froze.
Dadi pointed to the bed. "Sit."
Ling sat again.
Dadi leaned forward, eyes piercing, playful edge gone now. "Tell me honestly."
A beat.
"Do you love her?"
Ling answered instantly. "No."
Too fast.
Dadi raised a brow. "No hesitation. Interesting."
Ling clenched her fists. "I don't love anyone."
Dadi nodded slowly. "Again."
Ling frowned. "What?"
"I asked the wrong way," Dadi said. "Let me fix it."
She leaned closer, voice quiet, dangerous.
"Does the thought of losing her make your chest hurt?"
Ling didn't answer.
"Do you replay her expressions when you're alone?"
Silence.
"Did you stop the match because discipline failed—or because she was on the ground?"
Ling's breath broke. Just once.
Dadi waited.
Ling swallowed. Her voice came out lower. Quieter.
"…Stop."
Dadi smiled gently. "That wasn't an answer."
Ling stared at the floor for a long moment. When she finally spoke, it wasn't denial.
It was surrender.
A single, almost invisible nod.
Dadi exhaled like she'd been holding that breath for days.
"Oh, my poor child," Dadi murmured, pulling Ling into her arms. "You've fallen hard."
Ling didn't hug back.
She didn't pull away either.
"I won't say it," Ling said, voice tight against Dadi's shoulder.
"I know," Dadi replied, stroking her hair. "You never will."
She pulled back, eyes sharp again. "But listen to me now."
Ling looked up.
"Tomorrow night," Dadi said firmly, "you do not humiliate her. You do not break her. You watch her."
Ling frowned. "Why?"
"Because," Dadi said quietly, "the moment she stops fighting you… that's when you'll lose everything."
Ling nodded slowly.
Dadi smiled again—half teasing, half warning.
"And try not to kiss for more than one minute."
Ling groaned. "Dadi."
Dadi laughed,
knowing love had entered the Kwong house
whether anyone dared name it or not.