Dinner

The dining table was set generously, offering enough food for six men: steaming bowls of curry, grilled meats, fresh vegetables, and a large pot of rice at the center. The table, a long square configuration, had six chairs—three facing three.

There was no assigned seating. The contestants were free to choose.

Sky followed just a step behind Night as they descended the stairs, his hand trailing lightly on the railing. When they entered the dining area, the staff didn’t say anything—but subtly gestured toward the small belt pack hanging from their chairs.

Sky understood. Time to turn on their mics.

Night silently flicked his mic switch on. Sky did the same.

Then, without a word, Night walked to the far end of the table. He pulled out the chair at the corner, angled it gently, and gave Sky a short nod—offering the seat.

Sky blinked. “Oh… thank you,” he said as he sat down.

“No worries,” Night replied, adjusting Sky’s chair slightly to make sure he was comfortable before seating himself in the chair next to him—right in the middle of the side.

It was subtle, but the placement meant something. Night was claiming a spot—not just beside Sky, but also a kind of unspoken presence.

Not long after, the others began arriving.

“Wow, you two must be starving, huh?” Kim said as he entered the room with Ten right behind him. He glanced at the table, eyes lighting up. “I mean, understandable… this food looks like a feast!”

Sky glanced at Night, confused. Hadn’t they come down when the staff gestured? But no one else seemed in a hurry—no one commented on being late, and the staff didn’t say a word.

Night responded smoothly. “Yeah, we were hungry. We should eat now.”

Ten leaned in, his eyes scanning the dishes. “Wow, this actually looks delish. Right, Kim?”

“Absolutely. And I’m sitting right here,” Kim said cheerfully, plopping down in the seat across from Sky with a dramatic sigh of satisfaction.

He gave Sky a bright smile. “Hi Sky. How’s your room? I envy that bathtub. I was already imagining soaking in it tonight before bed.”

Sky gave a small, polite smile. “It’s good. If Aron’s okay with it, you can use it. I don’t mind.”

Kim’s eyes sparkled. “Really?? You’re so kind, Sky!”

But mid-sentence, he caught something—just a flicker.

A sharp glance from Night, subtle but unmistakable. Kim noticed it instantly but acted as though he hadn’t. He continued on with the performance.

“Then I’ll—”

Clears throat.

Night suddenly adjusted his cutlery, a sharp clink as the fork hit the plate, masking the sound of his pointed throat-clear.

Kim didn’t flinch. He was far from dense—in fact, he might be the most observant person in the house. He kept his gaze on Sky, unbothered.

“Then I’ll ask Aron,” Kim finished, like nothing had happened.

He didn’t miss how Night’s posture stiffened slightly.

So that’s how it is, Kim thought. Night has a favorite already… and it’s only the first day?

This show had just become very interesting.

Ten sat beside Kim, already digging into the rice. “This chicken smells like heaven.”

“Smells like competition,” Kim muttered under his breath, loud enough for Ten to hear but soft enough for others to miss.

Sky, still unaware of the silent tug-of-war happening around him, focused on scooping curry onto his plate. He felt a strange pressure next to him, like someone watching too closely.

When he peeked to his left, Night was casually reaching for a napkin—but his eyes were unmistakably on him.

Sky swallowed hard. Why does it feel like I’m in a scene already?

Dinner carried on with cheerful chatter. Kim did most of the heavy lifting with conversation, tossing jokes like confetti. Ten, quiet but charming, added soft commentary now and then. Even Sky, who had been stiff and hesitant at first, began to ease into the group. His shoulders loosened, his voice found a rhythm. He laughed when Kim teased Aron, and he even initiated a question toward Ten about his hometown.

The tension around him faded—at least, for now.

But not everyone was relaxed.

Sam and Night sat in silence more often than not. Both were 'alpha' types, each owning their silence in a way that made the air feel heavier. Though they contributed a line or two when prompted—probably for the camera—they seemed disinterested in the group dynamic.

Sky, now more at ease, reached forward to grab a dish slightly out of his range. Just before his fingers could brush the serving spoon, a hand beat him to it.

Night.

With casual precision, he scooped the food and placed it gently on Sky’s plate.

“Is there anything else you want?” Night asked, his voice soft—gentle in a way that made Sky blink. His stern model aura seemed to dissolve when he looked at him.

“I want that fritters,” Sky said, more comfortably this time. He didn’t feel so awkward anymore. He didn’t feel watched. He felt… seen.

Night reached again without a word and laid two golden fritters neatly on Sky’s plate.

“If there’s anything else you want, tell me. I’ll get it for you,” he said with a small smile.

“O-okay, thanks,” Sky replied. He’s really kind… Sky thought, watching him.

On the other end of the table, Aron struggled slightly to reach the rice bowl, which was directly in front of Night.

“Ugh,” Aron chuckled, stretching halfway across the table. “Need a passport just to reach the rice.”

Night didn’t move.

He didn’t glance. Didn’t offer help. He was too busy watching Sky, subtly waiting to see if he needed anything else.

It was Ten who noticed.

“I got it,” Ten said, sliding the rice bowl toward Sam, who then passed it to Aron without much expression.

“Thanks, guys,” Aron said with a half-laugh. “Took a whole chain of goodwill to get rice.”

Night? Unbothered. He took another bite, unhurried, his gaze flicking sideways to Sky again.

The cameras, nestled quietly in the corners, didn’t miss a thing.

Kim watched Night’s movements like a strategist in a battlefield. He smirked slightly to himself as he chewed.

So that's your game, Mr. Model.

He glanced at Sky, who now seemed more relaxed, maybe even glowing a little under Night’s attention.

Kim narrowed his eyes, playful intrigue curling in his chest.

Well then, he thought, reaching for his glass. Let’s make this show worth watching.

Sky, still unaware of the silent tug-of-war unfolding around him, focused on scooping curry onto his plate. But he couldn’t shake off the strange sensation—the kind that crawls up your spine when someone’s watching.

He peeked to his left.

Night, appearing casual, was reaching for a napkin—but his eyes… his eyes were unmistakably on Sky.

Sky swallowed hard. Why does it feel like I’m in a scene already?