The danger was over, but the tension was still heavy in the air. The crowd, sensing more drama could break out, started sneaking away, not wanting to be caught in the middle. And then there was Alepou—standing there with her fist clenched so tight it was shaking, looking like she was about to go full Super Saiyan. Her eyes were locked on the old man, the poor guy only saved because Prince Gabrielle had jumped in at the last second.
Alepou was about to pop off, no question. She had her sights set on the old man like he was her next meal. The vibe? Pure "I'm about to end this man's whole career" energy.
Yuki, always good at reading the room, knew Alepou was two seconds away from snapping. She brushed away her fake tears from her earlier over-the-top act and stepped in. "Guess it's up to me to stop World War Alepou," she thought.
Walking up to Alepou, Yuki tried to keep things chill but funny. "Yo, Puddin'," she said, calm but cheeky, "I get it—you wanna flatten this dude. But maybe dial it back? Like, go from 'Hulk Smash' to just, I dunno, a quick slap? Class it up a little."
Alepou didn't take her eyes off the old man, but there was the tiniest twitch of a smile on her face. "A slap?" she shot back. "Nah, babe, I'm thinking more like…a splatter. Feels right for the vibe, ya know?"
Yuki grinned, trying to keep Alepou from going full berserk. "Okay, okay, I hear you, Queen of Chaos. But think about it—if you splatter him, who's gonna stick around to watch? Where's the drama in that? You need witnesses, babe. The best revenge? It's got an audience."
Alepou's rage flickered, and Yuki's playful but clever point started sinking in. Lesson of the day, folks: If you're gonna throw down, make sure people are there to see it. What's the point of fireworks if no one's watching?