With her father by her side, Rose arrived at the venue. The doors opened, and she began walking toward the entrance, her gown heavy yet flowing gracefully with every step. She moved as if she owned the very floor beneath her, every eye drawn to her presence.

Jungkook’s gaze locked on her the moment she stepped in. He lost himself in her beauty, scanning her from head to toe. When he noticed she had chosen to wear her own white shoes instead of the glass heels he had prepared, a sharp smirk tugged at his lips. She looked even more breathtaking than he had imagined.

Rose caught the corner of his eyes on her, and a small, mischievous smirk tugged at her own lips, just enough to make Jungkook pause in surprise. This girl is truly different, he thought, his mind briefly shaken by the fearless, unwavering defiance in her eyes.He thought she must be scared, broken but she was smirking.

Mr. Min approached and gently offered Rose’s hand to Jungkook. But Rose stopped just short, pulling back slightly. She held her hand firmly at her side, keeping a few deliberate steps between them. Mr. Min seeing her stance, smiled faintly, understanding her courage, and quietly stepped back, leaving the space for the two to face each other.

The air between them was charged—electric, tense, and filled with the unspoken challenge of wills that neither was willing to surrender.

Jungkook leaned in slightly, his dark eyes fixed on her with a mixture of amusement and challenge. “Everything is perfect,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “but… the shoes. You look so small in front of me. At least with those heels, you’d appear a bit taller.”

Rose lifted her chin, her smirk playful yet defiant. “I don’t need a taller height,” she said, her tone dripping with confidence. “My attitude is already bigger than your height.”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, a dark thrill running through him. He hadn’t expected her boldness, her fearless words, and yet… that only made her all the more irresistible in his eyes.

The small spark of tension between them ignited, setting the stage for a clash of wills that neither would back down from.

After a tense silence, the priest began the ceremony. His voice echoed through the hall as he solemnly performed the rituals. Finally, he declared, “You may kiss the bride.”

Jungkook’s dark eyes flicked to Rose, a smirk playing on his lips. He reached out his hand toward her, a silent claim, expecting her to comply.

But Rose was quicker. She snapped her hand back, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “Ahh… the wedding is over, right?” she said coolly. “Then I’m going.”

With that, she turned on her shoes and strode directly toward Mr min. The guests whispered among themselves, astonished. Even at this moment… she won’t even let him touch her. How bold!

Jungkook, however, merely smirked, dark amusement glinting in his eyes. So fearless… so untouchable… he thought, intrigued rather than angered, already plotting how to tame—or challenge—this indomitable spirit.

Rose leaned slightly toward her father, her tone calm yet teasing. “Don’t worry for me, Father,” she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Worry about Jungkook… he doesn’t know me well yet.”

Jungkook silently moved to stand beside her, his smirk dark and amused.

Mr min glanced between them, concern etched on his face. “Please… take care of my daughter,” he said solemnly.

Rose turned toward him, her smirk sharp. “Why are you telling him that, Father? He should be careful from me,” she said confidently, and without another word, she walked away, leaving everyone in stunned silence.

Jungkook’s dark eyes followed her every step, a smirk tugging at his lips. He walked calmly behind her. “I guess you’re really tired,” he said, his tone low and teasing.

“Of course,” she replied, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “This heavy dress… I just want to change into something comfortable.”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened. He called the photographer over. “Hey,” he said, voice playful yet commanding, “click our photo, fast. The bride is tired,” his gaze locking on her as he spoke.

Rose let out a long sigh, a mixture of annoyance and amusement, as the photographer began capturing their pictures—each shot a silent battle of wills, each frame a testament to their fearless, electric tension.