Stolen First Kiss

Let’s rewind time for a moment—just before the disaster struck.

​The drive to the TV station was nerve-wracking. In fact, it was just as terrifying as driving down a pitch-black, creepy road in the middle of the night.

​For the entire ride, Sarah was on a mission, trying to dig out Melya’s true reason for agreeing to star in the TV show.

​Her topic-switching skills were honestly scary. One minute, they were casually talking about a delicious new kebab shop near the station. Sarah started with a sweet, “We should totally visit that place sometime...” only to smoothly twist it into, “—with you, me, and that future boyfriend you’re going to meet on the show! Unless, of course, you’re not actually looking for a boyfriend and are secretly helping a ghost sneak into the studio?”

​Melya almost choked. Should I just tell Sarah the truth and end this misery? She spent the rest of the drive battling her own mind. But against all odds, by the time they pulled up to the TV station lobby, she had successfully kept her mouth shut.

​“Oh my gosh! I am so happy you finally accepted our offer!”

​Before they even reached the reception desk, a young woman with a mane of wildly colorful hair practically threw herself at them.

​Melya had no clue who she was, but watching Sarah and the mystery girl giggle like high school besties made her guess they were pretty close.

​The colorful-haired girl introduced herself as Diandra, the casting director who had been hunting Melya down through Sarah like a crazy person for weeks. Sarah even joked that instead of running a dating show, Diandra belonged in a mental hospital—or at least as a patient in Melya’s therapy room.

​“Can you believe she rang my doorbell at midnight once, just to beg on her knees for you to join?” Sarah grumbled. “Crazy. Absolute lunacy!”

​“Come on, follow me to the screening room!” Diandra beamed, guiding Melya and Sarah toward the elevator. “One of the male contestants is already here!”

​As they walked, almost everyone they passed bowed respectfully to Diandra.

​“You two seem really close,” Melya remarked once they stepped inside the elevator.

​The moment Melya spoke, Diandra turned around, her eyes sparkling like a hyperactive puppy’s.

​“Of course! I’m Sarah’s junior and her number one fan!” Diandra squealed. “It’s such a shame she retired from modeling. If she hadn't, I’d probably be applying to be her full-time assistant right now!”

​Melya glanced sideways at Sarah, who was staring intensely at her phone with a completely blank expression—playing it cool like she couldn't care less. But Melya knew her too well; Sarah was fighting for her life trying to maintain her icy composure.

​“Junior? Did you go to the same school?” Melya asked.

​“Yup! Same middle school!” Diandra clapped her hands. “Ugh, I miss those days so much! I miss the cool, beautiful, yet super sweet Sarah!”

​“Ssh, zip it,” Sarah grumbled, her cheeks turning red as she kept her eyes glued to her screen. “Are you twelve? Just focus on your job.”

Diandra immediately raised her hand in a crisp military salute, pretending to zip her lips and throw away the key.

​After navigating a few twisting corridors, they finally reached the screening room.

​The moment the door opened, an overwhelming wave of intense jasmine hit Melya's nose, heavily blended with the sharp scent of frankincense and burning incense. In Melya’s hometown, this exact scent combination meant only two things: supernatural entities were lurking nearby, or a shaman was in the middle of a spirit-summoning ritual.

​And yep—spot on. Right in the corners of the room, several incense sticks were deliberately lit and smoking away.

​Wow, talk about going all out for the theme, Melya thought to herself, trying not to cough.

​“Alright, everyone, attention please!” Diandra clapped her hands loudly. “Meet Miss Melya! She’ll be joining us as one of the contestants.”

​The crowd immediately paused their conversations and snapped their attention straight toward Melya.

​In an instant, Melya could feel a wild cocktail of emotions directed at her: admiration, curiosity, skepticism, and outright side-eye. Calling Melya a celebrity shaman in this city was hardly an exaggeration—literally everyone in the room recognized her face.

​“Oh wow! It is such an honor to meet you, Miss Melya!”

​A young woman with a sharp bob cut rushed over, eagerly shaking Melya’s hand. “By the way, I absolutely love your bold red dress and that killer red lipstick!”

​She introduced herself as Siren, a junior scriptwriter who was brimming with chaotic enthusiasm for the show.

​Melya gave her a polite smile while returning the handshake. In reality, there was a very specific—and slightly absurd—reason behind her super bold, head-turning look.

​“Darius loves confident, daring women,” Celia’s advice echoed in her head. “If you project that fierce aura from the moment you meet, I’m positive he’ll fall head over heels for you!”

​So yeah... that was why Melya looked like she was ready to step onto a high-fashion runway or fight a demon. Though, to be honest, Melya had felt pretty skeptical about the advice. Celia herself didn't radiate 'daring power woman' energy at all, so how on earth did she manage to attract Darius and get him to propose?

​“I told you, he was just pretending to like me!” Celia had argued passionately back then. “If he actually loved me, he wouldn't have murdered me the second I uncovered his dark secret!”

​Fair point. Celia's logic was surprisingly sound, so Melya had decided to trust the ghost just this once.

​“Please, take a seat, Miss Melya,” Diandra instructed, pointing toward a long table lined with neat rows of chairs. “We still have a few more contestants arriving before we kick off our briefing.”

​According to Sarah’s quick breakdown during the car ride, the show featured eleven contestants in total: seven women and four men.

​All seven female contestants were professionals in the supernatural realm—ranging from shamans and tarot readers to spirit mediums. Meanwhile, the four male contestants were wealthy young CEOs running massive corporate empires.

​“Oh, actually, one of our male contestants is already here!” Diandra pointed toward a man sitting at the table, possessing an impeccably sharp posture.

​He was wearing a tailored black suit that wrapped flawlessly around his broad, sculpted frame. Beyond his physique, his face belonged in a museum under the 'nearly perfect' category. His features were impeccably symmetrical, defined by a razor-sharp jawline and a high, elegant nose line. His eyes—deep and pitch-black like a starless night—were framed by long, dark lashes and strong, straight brows that gave him an air of effortless arrogance.

​Thump!

​Melya’s heart suddenly hammered violently against her ribs, echoing like a deafening war drum in her chest.

​In her right ear, she could faintly hear Celia’s frantic whisper. Melya had purposely trapped her inside a enchanted hair clip for the trip.

​“That’s Paul, Melya! That’s Paul—the only man who was ever genuinely sweet to me!”

​But instead of listening to Celia, Melya’s head suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. Her brain started playing scattered fragments of forgotten memories, piecing them together like a cinematic movie reel.

​First came a memory of Melya crouching in front of a convenience store during a pouring rainstorm, where a high school boy leaned down to give her his umbrella. Then flashed a scene of Melya sprinting down a dark, terrifying alleyway, fleeing from ruthless loan sharks—until a young man in a black jacket stepped out of the shadows, knocked out the collectors, and saved her.

​Driven by sheer instinct, Melya took a step backward, desperately wanting out of that room. An unbearable tightness squeezed her chest. She needed to escape, right here, right now.

​CRASH!

​In her chaotic rush to bolt out the door, Melya failed to realize someone was standing directly behind her—another contestant who had just walked in.

​Attempting to run backward, Melya collided full-force into his chest, sending both of them tumbling hard onto the cold floor!

​And as if the universe decided to mock Melya by orchestrating a textbook romantic-comedy cliche, her lips landed square and smooth right on top of his. Her body was pinned directly over his on the ground.

​“Oh my goodness!”

“Whoa!”

​Shocked gasps and scandalized cheers erupted across the entire room. Sarah’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her sockets.

​However, two distinct voices screamed with entirely different tones in Melya's head.

​“Hey! Stop this disgusting performance and get off him this instant!” roared the Prime Minister spirit, whom Melya had sealed inside her jade pendant.

​“What are you doing?! Get off him, Melya! THAT’S HIM! He’s the murderer who killed me! THAT’S DARIUS!” Celia shrieked in absolute panic and terror.

​Melya’s eyes snapped wide open in sheer horror as she scrambled to push herself up.

​But unlike Melya, who was currently dying of embarrassment, the handsome man beneath her had glossy, tear-filled eyes, looking utterly shocked and heartbroken—as if Melya had just stolen his most sacred treasure.

​With his face turning as bright red as a boiled lobster, he whimpered in an impossibly soft, trembling voice:

​“...My first kiss.”