145: Chapter 144 Eldest Sister's Husband: You'll Give It to Him Just Because He Wants It?

The morning light was faint, stingily spilling a dim yellow through the none-too-clean windows of the old apartment. The scheduled wake-up time had passed, but the living room was uncharacteristically quiet, even permeated by an eerie "sense of order."

No moans from sleeping in, no noisy fighting over the bathroom, and no bleary-eyed complaints.

All twelve girls had already gotten up and were even... fully dressed.

They sat silently around that creaking long table or leaned against the wall. Everyone had finished their simple morning routine and put on the aprons provided by the production team with the "Brother Ramen" logo (from Group A yesterday) or some simple but clean sportswear. Their hair was also meticulously groomed, some tied into neat ponytails, others draped over their shoulders.

At first glance, their mental state looked quite good, even having a solemn sense of a collective expedition.

But upon closer observation, one could find that thick, inseparable "deathly aura" permeating the air.

There were no smiles on anyone's face; their eyes were empty or spaced out, as if their souls had left home in advance, leaving behind only empty shells ready to execute the "ultimate shameful mission." Their movements also had a numb slowness, like dolls that had been wound up but were about to run out of power.

An Yujin unconsciously stirred the bland oatmeal porridge in front of her with a spoon, but her eyes drifted out the window, as if staring at her own "Firm Rock Guardian" image that was about to collapse.

Yabuki Nako (Nako) sipped water in tiny gulps, her lips tightly pursed, as if she were doing her final psychological preparation, or perhaps as if she were silently protesting.

Kang Hye-won stared at the empty plate in front of her, her finger drawing circles on the table; her mind might still be echoing with the name war between "Blazing Spicy Ramen" and "Soft and Fluffy Woolly Ramen."

Lee Chaeyeon hugged her knees and buried her face in them, showing only a pair of eyes filled with "the loss of will to live," staring at a spot on the floor as if it were about to crack open and suck her in, away from this terrible world.

Kim Chaewon, Jo Yuri, and Honda Hitomi (Hitomi) sat together, yet there was no communication. Kim Chaewon's eyes were dull, Jo Yuri occasionally touched her cheeks (after-effects of the headgear?), and Hitomi had her hands clasped in front of her chest as if praying that slow-motion and flying disasters (merchandise) wouldn't appear today.

Miyawaki Sakura (Sakura) sat upright with her hands on her knees, her expression a standard "idol business" calm, but her slightly trembling eyelashes and overly stiff back betrayed the storm in her heart. The shadows of the Purple Cabbage and Rice Cake Balls were clearly still there.

Jang Wonyoung ate her bread in small bites, her movements elegant, but the sparkle was gone from her eyes. Every now and then, she would subconsciously touch the top of her head or her chin, as if the sensation of the water bottle and elastic cord still remained.

Kim Minju quietly adjusted her cuffs over and over again, her movements mechanical, as if performing some ritual, trying to use a sense of order to combat the impending chaos.

As the leader, Kwon Eunbi tried to appear more composed. She slowly drank her milk, her gaze sweeping over every member, but the heavy fatigue and sense of "resignation" deep in her eyes couldn't be hidden. The nightmare of the Lion headgear and rubber duck probably hadn't dissipated yet.

Choi Yena, on the other hand, seemed the most "normal," even a bit excited? She was carefully checking her precious sausage cart, powering up the sausage machine to preheat, counting the sauce bottles, and humming an out-of-tune tune. But this "normalcy," contrasted against the dead silence around her, seemed particularly prominent and... ominous? As if she were the only optimist who didn't realize the entrance to hell was just ahead.

The air was so heavy it could be wrung out like water. There was only the faint sound of Choi Yena checking her equipment and the extremely slow sound of everyone eating.

No conversation.

No eye contact.

Only a tacit, pessimistic premonition of the coming fate and a collective "marching to death" kind of tranquility.

They knew that, according to Jiang Zhiyu's "preview" on the phone last night, today would be a "joint on-site sale." Yesterday's shame was scattered, each having its own "characteristics," but today, all the "characteristics" were to be gathered together for a centralized display (execution) in a public place with "huge foot traffic."

Ramen slogans, black shadow man headgear, Purple Cabbage Court, water bottle balancing, Jelly Monsters and rubber ducks... these elements were about to be combined in some unknown but certainly even more outrageous way and thrown at them and unsuspecting passersby.

Just imagining that scene was enough to make these idols, who had experienced countless stages and faced tens of thousands of fans, feel a shiver from their souls and... despair.

So, they got up early and dressed neatly not because they were proactive, but because they were numb and had given up struggling.

Since resistance was futile and there was no way to escape, then... with the most "professional" posture, they would welcome this "large-scale street performance art show" destined to go down in history (the pillar of shame).

At least, the surface work had to be done well. This was their last, pitiful line of defense for their dignity as idols.

Kwon Eunbi finished the last sip of milk and put down the glass with a faint "click." The sound was exceptionally clear in the silence, causing everyone to look over.

She took a deep breath and stood up. Her movements were a bit stiff, but she made an effort to straighten her back.

"Girls," her voice was a bit dry, but clear enough in the quiet environment, "it's about time."

"The car... should be arriving soon."

She didn't say "Fighting," she didn't say "We can do it," and she certainly didn't mention anything about "revenge."

Because everyone knew that would be too hollow.

She just looked around, seeing the faces of her younger sisters filled with "I'm ready (to die)," and then, in as steady a tone as possible, said:

"Remember."

"Whatever happens."

"We are together."

"If we die, we die together."

She said this last sentence with extraordinary calmness, yet it carried a strange, bridge-burning strength.

After a brief silence.

An Yujin put down her spoon.

Kang Hye-won stopped drawing circles.

Lee Chaeyeon looked up.

Others also made similar, subtle movements indicating "received."

No slogans, no passionate responses.

Only a heavier, but seemingly more solid—tragic understanding of living and dying together.

Choi Yena finally finished checking her sausage stall, clapped her hands with satisfaction, looked up, and gave a big, cloudless smile:

"Unnies! My sausages are ready! They'll definitely sell well today!"

Her optimism, in this current atmosphere, was like a drop of hot oil in cold, stagnant water, stirring a subtle ripple.

Everyone looked at her with complex expressions.

Whatever.

With this silly, happy girl around, maybe... the journey to hell wouldn't be so hard to endure?

At least, when they were hungry, there would be sausages to eat.

From downstairs, a car horn could be heard faintly.

What was bound to come, had finally come.

The twelve "decent-looking" but "lifeless" Star Envoy maidens, with a "solemnity" and "numbness" as if heading to an execution ground, slowly stood up and walked toward the door.

A new day, a new shame (gift pack), was about to begin.

The car horn from downstairs wasn't the sharp honking of a van or minibus with an exaggerated logo and an unreliable look as expected from the production team, but several steady, rhythmic, and even business-like short "beeps."

The twelve girls, who had already adopted the mindset of "the wind soughs and the Yi River is cold" and were prepared to board the "shameful execution vehicle," all paused in unison. They looked at each other, seeing the same doubt in each other's eyes.

This sound... doesn't seem right?

As the leader, Kwon Eunbi took a deep breath and was the first to go to the window, carefully lifting a corner of the faded curtain to look down.

Beside the narrow street below the apartment building, parked there was not any vehicle from the production team, but a vehicle they were all too familiar with—IZ*ONE's exclusive large black van! The car's body was sleek and smooth, and standing beside it was their familiar Manager Oppa, who always worried about them, looking at his watch with a slightly anxious expression.

"It's... it's our car? Manager Oppa?" Kwon Eunbi's voice trembled with disbelief as she turned back to look at the members who were also crowding the window or stretching their necks to look out.

"Really! It's our car!"

"Manager Oppa is here!"

"It's not the production team's car?!"

The moment this fact was confirmed, the heavy, death-like silence in the living room, which felt like they were about to go to battle, was like a balloon pricked by a needle—it popped!

"Waaaaah—!!!"

"We're saved?!"

"It's a schedule! It's our schedule!!"

"It's not PD Jiang's ghostly mission?!"

"Ahhh, I'm going to cry!!"

Extreme despair was suddenly replaced by a huge surprise; emotions surged upward like a roller coaster! The girls, who had been lifeless with empty eyes just a moment ago, instantly erupted into deafening screams, cheers, and shouts of surviving a disaster!

An Yujin threw away the tissue she had been clutching, which symbolized "marching to death," and excitedly hugged Yabuki Nako next to her.

Kang Hye-won and Lee Chaeyeon hugged each other, jumping and shouting.

Kim Chaewon, Jo Yuri, and Hitomi hugged tightly, their eyes turning a bit red.

Sakura's body, which had been tense, suddenly relaxed. She leaned against the wall and let out a long, long sigh of relief, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted.

Jang Wonyoung covered her mouth, her beautiful big eyes instantly filling with tears (of joy).

Kim Minju also showed her first sincere, relieved smile of the day.

Kwon Eunbi leaned against the window frame, feeling her legs go a bit weak, her heart still pounding from the misjudgment just now.

Even Choi Yena temporarily abandoned her sausage cart and joined the ranks of cheering, although she seemed to feel a small hint of regret about not being able to go "start her business" immediately.

A huge sense of joy and relaxation washed over everyone's body and mind. They hugged each other, patted each other's backs, laughed and shouted, and some even cried with joy. Compared to Jiang Zhiyu's absurd and highly shameful "mortal missions," normal idol schedules—even if they involved intense recording, boring rehearsals, or public activities where they had to maintain a perfect state—seemed so lovely, so normal, and so desirable at this moment!