ill notice.

Which was a solid plan had Jung-Joon not so quickly hopped out of his seat, carrying her off with him.

"JJ! Drop the girl." announces Niles on the PA system, followed by a judgemental young boy taking over the mic "Jiejie, get off. You're embarrassing."

Murder, she's going to murder them all in cold blood. Who cares if it's Eun-Jung's wedding, people need to die. They needed to die 3 minutes ago.

"Awwwww, I can't just do that." the cheeky brat, deceptively charming in a suit or not, complains back.

"Jung-Joon." comes a very different voice on the mic, calm with just the right hint of threat, "put her down and get up on stage."

Meng thanks all the stars and strobe light on this ceiling for Jung-Soo, the only likable Park brother. That is until he finishes that announcement.

"You can pull off this shit at your own wedding. Worry not everyone, bets are still taking place. Please report to the table by the registry at zone 3 to place or update your bets. Thank you."

The spotlight goes out to direct curious eyes to said bet counter, headed by her old bossman. The crew and set up looking far too professional to be a joke. Oh god she even sees her project manager behind there? What the hell?!

Back in the dark, Meng can feel the hot blood coursing, unfreezing her paralyzed limbs. She screams in Jung-Joon's chest, the younger laughing out loud as he cradled her head, muffling the sound as he ran.

"Put me down you-!!!"

"Okay okay. Just this once, alright?"

"I can't god damn believe you!"

He plops her down into a seat alright, scooting the chair safely and patting the top of her head before making his way up on stage. The problem was that Jung-Joon put her at not only the wrong table, but it was the very worst table imaginable.

No, not a table full of rowdy drunk guys. That she could actually handle.

It was the head table, with the parents of the bride.

She slowly turned her head, awkwardly but respectfully bowing to a glower and a gentle smile of a Mrs. and Mr. Park respectively. Tonight, everything really was worse. She needs another drink. ASAP.

"....Pardon me." she tries inching away towards escape, or the champagne.

"Mengmeng, I hope it hasn't been too hard to on you these days." starts Mr. Park, fixing his glasses and still looking teary from his earlier dance. It guilts her to stay put.

"Oh no....not at all." she waved off.

She didn't know how to say the hardest part was dealing with their youngest son. She was still reeling from what just happened, though it was easier to just...pretend, it was all a drunk hallucination. So awkward....

"I hope you know then," the gentle older man continues, completely unaffected "that in the future, if...even if there was someone else....I would be honored to have a dance with you at your own wedding."

"?!!" Meng makes a strange noise, perhaps the sound of an animal dying. It's something she doesn't know how to respond to. Already overwhelmed. She's been overwhelmed. Helping plan a wedding does that to you.

That's the only reason she feels like crying.

She bows her head low, lost on how to answer. If she's even supposed to answer. She hopes he doesn't mind.

She's used to the hurting, but she doesn't know how to identify this other strange feeling. Only that she doesn't hate it, even if it overwhelms her, washing over like ocean waves. Again and again, the water lapping at the shore somewhere inside of her chest.

It stings.

She doesn't hate it at all.

"Who is cutting onions!"

My sudden outburst gets some attention from passerby troop members but for the most part everyone leaves me alone. Drunken pink sighs and cooing of "aww it's the little Miss Rosalia" and "where did she come from?" "No no no She was here this whole time with the general?" and even "now where did he go?"

So annoying, I swear someone is cutting raw onions around here!

This outdoor feast is just so messy. It can't be helped. I suppose local commoner weddings have their own rustic charms.

Munch munch. Without any legal drinks for me to have, I'm back to eating. Grampa is right, I need to train my jaw. Very satisfying to tear the muscles and tendons. I need to eat lots and grow lots.

I need to grow up well. Only then do I have any chance of escape.

Escape where? I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. I'm only three right now so it's too far away.

It's all so very far away.

Sniff.

Stupid onions.

"Yeah! Stupid veggies, meat is a lot better. Oh this thingy is good!"

"It's okay. Chews funny. There are onions here?"

"I don't know, Rosa said there was. Maybe she ate them all!"

"But they're all cooked? They still can't make you cry so much like Rosa does. You should blow your nose or you can't taste anything. Oh try this one, there are lingonberries and rice inside."

"*noms*Good! I like that one!"

"Is that an oxen tail? I can't tell from smell since they're all cooked together. "

"I don't know but it's fatty and yummy!"

I feel a twitch in my temple despite my young age. In annoyance to the sudden chatter, just the sudden appearance of my minions in training, I aim and stuff a roasted blue potato in each of their mouth holes. That should buy me at least 7 seconds of peace.

"When did you get here?"

"Mpff awwaw agoof Shw!"

"....how about you chew first? Yeah just chew and then answer."

The boys munch down, looking very much like fluffy pet hamsters or something with their cheeks full. They've been freshly bathed, with Gable's herbal soaps scenting their kiddy soft skin. They're not in any of my clothes, but Gable must have cleaned them up for the occasion, with soft linen and dark frocks, the collars embroidered with a line of something nice.

I sure hope that means Gable is here!

I also sure hope mother does come back around any time soon. Worst case scenario I sacrifice one or both the boys. That's their most useless purpose at this point in time.

"We came awhile ago! And we saw Barabara in her red dress and new fancy hubby Niki and we ate candy and we gave out more candy and we ran under the tables. Your da' is kinda scary picking veggies with the stupid baby and I first I thought it was you in there but the baby isn't very smart with words or red. Then we came back and ate some more. Then we hear you screaming about bad onions and so we came here and ate some more while you cried about those onions and then you attacked with a potato-"

A special treat, Lukas you get another potato. Bigger potato. Chew on that for a minute longer, please.

When I turn back to Amar, he's already well stuffing his little face with the rice. Which is reasonable but at least I can get shorter answers from this one.

"Where's Gable? Did he drop you off for the feast?"

Both boys with full mouths point in the same direction, towards the low setting sun. It's getting dark as the lanterns up in the trees and posts light up romantically. Yes very good wedding decor. Not bad mother.

"He's with your grampa." Amar answers between nibble like bites. Slower but steadier paced in his black hole eating tendencies compared to Lukas. Yep, it's a hamster, or a rabbit. Something like that.

"What? Where" I squint towards the distance.

"There." the boy point again.

How helpful. Gee, thank you oh so much.

Nope no Gable, I do however see my grampa making a silly fool out of himself. Somehow he irks the ire of a hunchback old man with a medium length beard, receiving the wack of his crooked cane. Even as the brave old man keeps hitting the world-renowned hero, grampa still keeps attacking.

I think he's trying to hug him?

Now he's on his knees, now he's saying something, aaaaand he gets whacked with the cane again.

Grampa is weird, with or without alcohol. That just may be the only truth I can rely on in this world.

"Ohhhh darling just look at this lovely little dress they let me borrow! Ohohoho it's so thin and spinny and ties with so many ribbons! Darling~ Frederick darling, where did you run off to now? My darlings? Papa?...."

Okay, and my mother being scary too. Absolutely a universal fact.

At the sound of her voice the boys and I all jump to various degrees of fright. It is then, after catching our breaths, that we all silently nod and agree on the safest plan for children our size.

Under the table! Come on everyone, we're bringing this feast downstairs.

Bringing this, and that. Whatever the hell that is, sure let's try it. Oh another of the stuffed birdies. I like those. Hey take that jug of juice from over the other table, we're gonna need that. Some wedding candy? Can someone cut this steak smaller? My jaw is getting sore. Make it smaller. Thin but not too thin.

Smaller I say. Smaller!