36: Chapter 36 Help! The beginning was easy, but what kind of weird questions are these later on?!

Jiang Zhiyu was being ushered into the SM Building with his hands supported by Kim Minjeong and Ningning. Not "held," but "supported."

Kim Minjeong supported his left wrist, and Ningning supported his right wrist. The two of them, one on the left and one on the right, looked like two little maids supporting a young master, afraid he might fall.

But Jiang Zhiyu wouldn't fall, because he was walking very slowly—so slowly it was like filming a slow-motion movie.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, and the distance of each step was about the same, but his posture was stiff. Not "stiff," but "not knowing where to put his hands."

With his hands being supported, he couldn't put them in his pockets. Couldn't put them in his pockets, he couldn't pretend to look at his phone. Couldn't pretend to look at his phone, so he could only look straight ahead. Looking straight ahead, he could see the staff, trainees, and the fans gathered at the entrance who were watching him.

The three of them walked into the company entrance extremely awkwardly. Jiang Zhiyu walked in the middle, Kim Minjeong on the left, and Ningning on the right.

Karina walked behind, holding up her phone, silently filming. There was a crooked curve at the corner of her mouth—not a smile, but a confirmation of "I am very satisfied."

The story begins last night. Karina had used three the kings cards. Not "used," but "used on the spot, destroyed on the spot."

These three the kings cards were all she had won from playing games during this period; every single one had been won through hard work, and every single one she had carefully preserved. She had originally planned to save them to use at a critical moment.

Last night was that critical moment. She sat on the sofa in the living room with three the kings cards spread out in front of her; the cards had three names written on them—Kim Minjeong, Ningning, and Jiang Zhiyu.

She picked up the first one and read out the command: "Kim Minjeong, support Jiang Zhiyu's left hand."

She picked up the second one. "Ningning, support Jiang Zhiyu's right hand."

She picked up the third one. "Jiang Zhiyu, from the moment we meet tomorrow until you get off work, whenever you are walking, you must maintain a prince's arrogant expression."

Three cards, three commands. Read, then destroyed. The paper scraps fell onto the coffee table like three white flowers.

Kim Minjeong and Ningning's faces turned red instantly. Red like ripe tomatoes, red like shrimp just taken out of a pot, red like—they didn't dare to look at Jiang Zhiyu.

Jiang Zhiyu looked at Karina. Karina looked at him. Their gazes met in the air; there were no sparks, no collision, just a quiet exchange of glances.

Jiang Zhiyu looked away first. "Understood," he said. His tone was calm, so calm it was like he was saying "The weather is nice today." But his ears were red.

Now it was the next morning. At the entrance of the SM Building, the gathered fans were holding up their phones, filming this bizarre scene.

They didn't know what had happened; they only knew—Jiang Zhiyu looked so handsome today. Not "so handsome," but "so noble."

His chin was slightly lifted, his gaze leveled forward, and there was a subtle curve at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile, but a confirmation of "I am a prince."

His pace was slow and steady, and every step looked like he was walking on a red carpet.

Kim Minjeong and Ningning lowered their heads, not daring to look at the camera, not daring to look at the onlookers, not daring to look at each other.

Their faces were very red, red to the tips of their ears, red to their necks, red to their collarbones. They just wanted to hurry inside, walk to a place with no people, let go of his hands, then squat down and bury their faces in their knees.

But they couldn't let go, because the command was "support," not "support until the company entrance." It was "from the moment we meet tomorrow until you get off work." As long as Jiang Zhiyu was walking, they had to support him. All day long.

Kim Minjeong cursed Karina a hundred times in her heart. Ningning cursed Karina two hundred times in her heart.

Karina walked behind, holding up her phone, her crooked smile maintained from the first floor to the fourth floor. She was very satisfied. Not "satisfied," but "very satisfied." Because her plan had succeeded.

Three the kings cards, three commands, one perfect image. She had filmed it. The video would be saved on her phone, never to be deleted. Because this was proof of her victory. Not "winning against Jiang Zhiyu," but "winning against herself." She had won against the things she didn't dare to do. She did it, and she won.

The trending search appeared at ten in the morning. The entry was—"The true 21st-century prince at the SM entrance." Clicking into it, the first post was a video filmed by a fan.

In the frame, Jiang Zhiyu was wearing a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with the top button of the collar unfastened. His hair had grown a bit long, with bangs hanging down, covering half his forehead.

His chin was slightly lifted, his gaze leveled forward, and there was a subtle curve at the corner of his mouth. Kim Minjeong and Ningning walked on his sides, heads lowered, faces flushed red. Karina walked behind, holding up her phone. The caption was just one line—"What exactly is this combination???"

The comment section exploded. "Jiang Zhiyu is so handsome." "Is this some kind of filming set?" "Who are those two girls? So cute." "Who is the one holding the phone behind? What is she laughing at?" "Can someone explain, who is Jiang Zhiyu?" "He's the creator at SM, the one who wrote 'prince ruperts drop' for Kim Taeyeon." "The one who wrote 'the blue night of jeju island' for IU." "The person in charge of Red Velvet's new album." "He is so handsome." "He is really so handsome." "Why is he so handsome."

The level of discussion was very high, extremely high. So high that Red Velvet knew about it in their practice room.

Yeri was the first to see it. She was sitting on the practice room floor with a long table in front of her. Five small notebooks were neatly stacked on the table.

Originally, they had been spread out one by one on the table, placed in different positions when everyone handed them in. Yeri had stacked them together, and she had deliberately put her own at the very bottom. Because she thought—die later. Be seen by Jiang Zhiyu later, be graded later, be told "you didn't write well enough" later. She didn't want to hear it, so she put it at the very bottom.

She was scrolling through her phone, scrolling and scrolling, when her finger stopped. She saw the trending search entry—"The true 21st-century prince at the SM entrance." She clicked in and saw the video.

She laughed. Not a "smile," but a "laugh." Hahaha, hahaha. The laughter echoed in the practice room, hitting the walls and bouncing back, bouncing to the ceiling, and bouncing back again.

Seulgi looked at her, Joy looked at her, Wendy looked at her, and Bae Joo-hyun also looked at her.

Yeri laughed until she bent over, laughed until tears came out, laughed until the phone in her hand almost dropped to the floor. "Unnie! You guys look!" She held up her phone, screen facing out. The four of them leaned in and saw the video.

Seulgi's mouth twitched. Joy's eyebrows raised. Wendy covered her mouth. Bae Joo-hyun's expression didn't change, but her eyes paused on the video for a moment.

Yeri wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath. "Zhiyu, you have this day too."

Her original plan had been to knock Jiang Zhiyu unconscious and throw him into the Han River, but this plan had fallen through because Jiang Zhiyu was her album Manager. She couldn't hit him, couldn't scold him, couldn't throw him into the Han River. She could only endure, endure until the album was finished, endure until the comeback was complete, endure until she didn't have to see him again.

But now she didn't have to endure. Because Jiang Zhiyu was more "socially dead" than she was. Not "socially dead," but "social death." At the SM entrance, having his hands supported by two girls, striking a prince's arrogant expression, being filmed by countless fans, trending on search, being seen by everyone. Just thinking about that image made her laugh. She had been laughing all morning.

Im Yoona was the first person to send a mocking message to Jiang Zhiyu. She was driving on her way to the coffee shop where she had a date with Tiffany. While waiting for a red light, she picked up her phone and scrolled to the trending search.

She watched the video and laughed. Not a "laugh," but a "sneer." Her mouth turned up, eyes narrowed, her whole face written with "You are finished."

She opened KakaoTalk, found Jiang Zhiyu's chat box, and typed a line—"Zhiyu, are you at the company?" Sent.

She looked at the screen, watching the word "Read" appear under that line. Her smile grew wider. She didn't need him to reply; she only needed him to "Read" it.

If he read it, he would know she had seen it. If she saw it, he would know she was laughing at him. Laughing at him, that is—she put down her phone and stepped on the accelerator. The weather was so nice today. Not "the weather is nice," but "the mood is nice."

Because Jiang Zhiyu was being mocked, because she had seen it, because he deserved it. Who told him to design such a damn game like "the kings card," who told him to make her lose so many times, who told him to ruin her plan of "taking hundreds of photos and sending them on a timer." He deserved it.

Thinking of this, her mood became even better. So good that she wanted to go to SM right now to see Jiang Zhiyu's "prince" expression with her own eyes.

But she didn't go, because she had a coffee date with Tiffany. They would chat about recent events, then take a photo and post it to Instagram. Then she would take out the kings card. Tiffany would ask "What is this," and she would explain the rules of the game. Then the two of them would start playing.

After playing, she would win. After winning, Tiffany would become her "slave." Then she would take out the kings card at a dinner gathering, keep winning, winning until her self-confidence exploded. With self-confidence exploded, she would go challenge Jiang Zhiyu.

Jiang Zhiyu, that damn bastard, designed such a damn game, making her lose so many times, making her practice "how to win" in front of the mirror in the middle of the night. She practiced for a long time, practiced until her eyes were sore, practiced until her fingers were numb, practiced until her brain was oxygen-deprived.

She still hadn't won. But she wouldn't give up, because she was Im Yoona, she was Im Yoona of Girls Generation, she was that Im Yoona who never admitted defeat. She would win. One day.

Im Yoona parked the car at the coffee shop entrance, turned off the engine, picked up her phone, and sent a message to Tiffany—"I'm here. Are you here?" Tiffany's reply was quick—"I'm here. On the second floor."

Im Yoona pushed open the car door and walked into the coffee shop. Her pace was light and brisk, so brisk it was like she was dancing. There was a curve at the corner of her mouth, and that curve said—"Today, I will win."

She went up to the second floor and saw Tiffany sitting by the window, with a latte and a piece of tiramisu in front of her. Tiffany saw her and smiled. "You're in a good mood today?" "Yeah." "Why?" "Because—"

Im Yoona sat down, took out a the kings card from her bag, and placed it on the table. "Because I'm going to win." Tiffany looked at the card and blinked. "What is this?" "the kings card."

Im Yoona smiled. She smiled very sweetly, sweet enough to be like having a piece of candy in her mouth. "Let me explain the rules."

—— Kim Minjeong stood in front of the Red Velvet practice room door, and a voice in her heart said—Generally speaking, in a senior's practice room, one wouldn't have to do such socially dead things.

This voice was very firm, firm enough to be like stating a theorem that had already been proven. A senior's practice room is sacred, inviolable, and does not allow any "abnormal state" to enter. She was now in an "abnormal state."

Her hand was supporting Jiang Zhiyu's left wrist, her body slightly tilted, as if she had been frozen by something. Her face was very red, red from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, red from the tips of her ears to her neck.

She didn't want to go in; she didn't want the Red Velvet seniors to see her like this. She didn't want Yeri to laugh at her, didn't want Seulgi to remember her, didn't want Joy to look at her with that "Oh—so you are that kind of junior" look. She didn't want to.

Ningning had long since pulled her hand to her side. Not "pulled," but "hidden." Hidden at the side of her leg, hidden behind her body, hidden in a place Jiang Zhiyu couldn't see.

Her fingers were curled, knuckles turning white, nails digging into her palms. She lowered her head, looking at the floor. The color of the floor was light gray, polished very brightly, able to reflect her shadow. In the shadow, her hands were hanging down, not supporting anyone. That was the her she wanted to become. Not the her she was now.

Jiang Zhiyu stood in the middle, still in that "noble prince" look. Chin slightly lifted, gaze leveled forward, a subtle curve at the corner of his mouth.

His left wrist was supported by Kim Minjeong, and his right wrist was supported by Ningning. But their hands had no strength left, flopping limply on his wrists, like two vines that had lost their vitality.

He couldn't feel the temperature of their hands because his own hands were very cold. Not "cool," but "cold." Cold enough to make his fingertips turn white, cold enough to make his knuckles stiff, cold enough that he didn't want to maintain this posture anymore.

But he had to maintain it, because the priority of the kings card was the highest. These were the rules he had set himself. The rules were set by him, and he couldn't violate them. If he violated them, it would be slapping his own face. Slapping his own face would cause swelling. Swelling would look bad. So he endured.

Karina stood at the very back, still holding her phone up.

She had been filming the entire way—from the company entrance to the hallway, from the hallway to the elevator, and from the elevator to the practice room door.

Her finger tapped the screen, stopping the recording.

She lowered her phone and looked at Jiang Zhiyu's back, looking at his "Noble Prince" persona, and at the faces of Minjeong and Ningning, which were so red they looked ready to drip blood.

A voice in her heart was saying—she seemed to have made a mistake.

Not "seemed," but "really." She really had made a mistake.

She shouldn't have used the kings card to issue such an order, shouldn't have made them do this in front of the Red Velvet practice room, and shouldn't have made Jiang Zhiyu lose face in front of the seniors they were about to collaborate with.

She just wanted to win, just wanted to see them suffer a "social death," and just wanted to save a video on her phone that she could laugh at for a year.

She hadn't thought about Red Velvet.

She had forgotten that the Red Velvet practice room was at the end of this hallway, forgotten that Jiang Zhiyu was coming for a meeting today, and forgotten that they would pass by this door.

She had forgotten.

So, she had made a mistake.

But she couldn't admit it.

Admitting it meant losing.

If she lost, the kings card would have been used for nothing.

She didn't want it to be for nothing.

So she stood there, holding her phone up, pretending she was still filming.

"Oppa, we shouldn't go in, right?"

Karina's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear.

She was testing the waters, testing Jiang Zhiyu's reaction, testing if he would say "Okay," and testing if he would cancel the order at the last minute.

Jiang Zhiyu turned his head and glanced at her.

That look was strange—not the kind of strange that said, "What kind of nonsense are you spouting?" or "How could you do this?" but the kind of strange that said, "I can't believe you would say something like that."

It was eccentric, eerie, as if he had never known her at all.

Karina froze.

She looked into his eyes—those eyes that glimmered with a faint gold in the hallway light, those eyes so calm that not a single emotion could be discerned.

She saw herself in those eyes.

Not "herself," but "someone doing something wrong."

That person was her.

She had made a mistake.

She knew it.

But she didn't know how to make up for it.

So she stood there, mouth slightly open, unable to say a single word.

The two of them locked eyes.

The look was short, so short it lasted only a second.

But in that second, a terrible thought emerged in Karina's heart.

Not a "thought," but a "premonition."

A premonition that Jiang Zhiyu wouldn't cancel the order, a premonition that he would make her go in, a premonition that he would make her watch with her own eyes as Minjeong and Ningning suffered a "social death" in front of the Red Velvet seniors.

Her mouth was dry.

Not from "thirst," but from "fear."

She was so scared that her lips were parched, her throat was tight, and she wanted to turn around and run away.

If she ran away, she wouldn't have to face it.

If she didn't face it, it wouldn't be her fault.

If it wasn't her fault, she could pretend nothing had happened.

"Oppa..." Her voice trembled slightly.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't look at her.

He looked at the door, at the brass plate that read "Red Velvet," and at the faint light reflecting off the plate in the hallway lighting.

His expression was very calm, so calm that no emotion could be discerned.

But his heart was not calm.

He was thinking—the priority of the kings card was absolute.

This was a rule he had set himself.

He set it, and he couldn't change it.

If he changed it, it would be unfair.

If it were unfair, Minjeong and Ningning would be dissatisfied.

If they were dissatisfied, they would make a scene.

If they made a scene, he would be annoyed.

If he were annoyed, it would affect work.

If it affected work, it would affect the album.

If it affected the album, it would affect the comeback.

If it affected the comeback, it would—he couldn't change it.

So he had to go in.

With this "Noble Prince" persona, being supported by the hands of Minjeong and Ningning, he had to walk into the Red Velvet practice room.

Walk into Bae Joo-hyun's line of sight.

"The priority of the kings card is absolute."

Jiang Zhiyu's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear.

Clear enough that Minjeong's face turned green instantly.

Not "green," but "pale and sallow."

As sallow as an unripe tangerine, as sallow as a pool of polluted water, as sallow as her current mood.

Her lips were trembling, not from the cold, but because she was thinking about what was about to happen.

She would be supporting Jiang Zhiyu's hand, walking into the Red Velvet practice room, and being seen by Yeri, Seulgi, Joy, Wendy, and Bae Joo-hyun.

They would remember her—not as "Minjeong," but as "that trainee who was holding Jiang Zhiyu's hand."

She didn't want to be remembered that way.

She wanted to be remembered as "Minjeong, an SM trainee, who sings well, dances well, and looks good."

Not as the one "holding his hand."

She didn't want that.

But she couldn't refuse, because the priority of the kings card was absolute.

She accepted her fate.

Her face turned from sallow to green, from green to purple, and from purple to black.

Finally, it settled into a gray of "utter despair."

Ningning's face was rainbow-colored.

Not a "rainbow," but a "palette splattered with paint."

Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple—every color appeared, and every color disappeared just as quickly.

Her brain was running at high speed, thinking of any way to escape.

Faking a faint?

No, Jiang Zhiyu would drag her in.

Faking tears?

No, Jiang Zhiyu wouldn't soften.

Playing dead?

No, Jiang Zhiyu would drag her "corpse" inside.

She couldn't escape, because her kings card was still in Karina's hands.

Not in her "hands," but "already used."

Once used, it was gone.

Once gone, there was no taking it back.

Since she couldn't take it back, she had to accept it.

She accepted it.

Her face turned from rainbow-colored to white.

Not "white," but "pale."

As white as a sheet of paper, as white as a wall, as white as her brain was at that moment—a complete blank.

Karina was embarrassed.

Not just "embarrassed," but "extremely embarrassed."

She stood there, still holding her phone up, not knowing whether she should film or not.

If she filmed, it would be evidence.

If she didn't, it would be a waste.

She hesitated for a long time, so long that the looks Minjeong and Ningning gave her shifted from "pleading for help" to "accusation."

Minjeong's eyes were saying— "You ruined me."

Ningning's eyes were saying— "You ruined me."

Karina understood those words.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say "I'm sorry," but she didn't.

Because "I'm sorry" was useless.

If she said it, they would still have to go in.

Once they went in, they would still be seen.

Once seen, they would still be remembered.

Once remembered, it would be forever.

She couldn't cancel the order because the kings card had already been torn.

Once torn, it was effective.

Once effective, it couldn't be revoked.

Once it couldn't be revoked, it was—she lowered her head, looking at the tips of her shoes.

White canvas shoes, laces tied tightly, the two sides of the bow perfectly even.

Her laces hadn't come undone today.

She thought, if her laces had come undone, she could squat down to tie them.

If she tied her laces, she wouldn't have to watch them go in.

If she didn't watch, she wouldn't feel guilty.

If she felt guilty, she wouldn't—the laces hadn't come undone.

She couldn't squat down.

The looks Minjeong and Ningning gave Karina were filled with dead energy.

Not "anger," but "dead energy."

Like two people who had already been sentenced to death, looking at the judge who had sentenced them.

They didn't speak, because they knew it was useless.

Karina wouldn't cancel the order because she couldn't.

the kings card had been torn, the order had been issued, and it was effective.

They could only execute it.

Executing it meant death.

Death meant—they took a deep breath, preparing to meet their end.

Jiang Zhiyu took a deep breath.

His chest expanded and then collapsed.

His gaze shifted from the door to Minjeong's face, from Minjeong's face to Ningning's face, and from Ningning's face to Karina's face.

His expression was calm, so calm that no emotion could be discerned.

But his heart was not calm.

He was thinking—he was going in.

In this persona, supported by their hands, walking into that door.

Bae Joo-hyun would see him, would see his "Noble Prince" persona, would see him being supported by two trainees, would see his chin lifted slightly, his gaze fixed straight ahead, and a faint, subtle curve at the corners of his mouth.

What would she think?

Would she think he was strange, would she think he was ridiculous, would she think he was—he didn't want to know.

He didn't want to know what she would think.

He just wanted to go in, finish the meeting, and come out.

Then forget all of this.

Forget today, forget this door, forget that he had once appeared before her in this persona.

He couldn't forget.

He knew he couldn't forget.

He would remember—remember today, remember this door, remember the expression on her face the moment she saw him.

He didn't know what that expression looked like, but he would remember it.

Because she was Bae Joo-hyun.

She was the one he didn't want to look at, yet couldn't help but look at.

The one he didn't want to think about, yet couldn't help but think about.

The one he didn't want to see, yet couldn't help but want to see.

He couldn't help it.

So he came.

Jiang Zhiyu reached out and grabbed Minjeong's wrist.

Not "grabbed," but "held."

He held it very tightly, so tightly that Minjeong's bones felt a bit of pain from the pressure.

He also held Ningning's wrist, just as tightly, just as painfully.

Two hands, limp and lifeless, like two fish whose bones had been removed.

Their hands rested on his wrists, and he held their wrists.

Four people, two hands, one pose.

Jiang Zhiyu lifted his chin.

Not "lifted," but "tilted."

He tilted it high, so high it was like he was looking at the ceiling.

But his eyes were on the door.

He looked at that door, at the doorknob, at the layer of metal on the doorknob that had been touched by countless people.

His voice squeezed out from his throat, carrying a grinding tone, as if he were trying to bite the door to pieces.

"Open the door."

Minjeong's hand moved.

Not "moved," but "trembled."

It trembled once, then slowly, slowly—like a snail crawling across a leaf—reached toward the doorknob.

Her fingers touched the metal, cold—so cold that her fingertips recoiled.

She gritted her teeth and gripped it.

She turned it.

The door opened.

Not "opened," but "cracked."

It cracked open a sliver, and light shone through the gap.

The light was warm yellow, falling on her face, illuminating her features clearly.

She saw inside the practice room—Yeri was sitting on the floor, holding a phone, her mouth open, eyes wide with shock.

Seulgi was standing in front of the mirror, holding a water bottle; the water had already spilled out onto her sweatpants, but she didn't notice.

Joy was leaning against the wall, holding an iced Americano; the angle of the cup had tilted, and the iced Americano was about to spill.

Wendy was sitting in a chair, holding a pen; the tip was hovering over the paper, and ink dripped onto the paper, spreading into a small black circle.

Bae Joo-hyun was sitting in a chair by the window, holding nothing in her hands.

Her gaze swept over from the door, sweeping over Minjeong, over Jiang Zhiyu, over Ningning, and over Karina.

Her expression was very calm, so calm that no emotion could be discerned.

But her fingers tapped lightly on her knee.

Not "tapped," but "paused."

She paused for a moment, then continued tapping.

She tapped twice, three times, four times.

The rhythm was slow, so slow it was like she was counting.

How high she counted, she didn't know.

She only knew that he had come in.

In this persona.

Supported by two trainees, chin slightly tilted, gaze fixed straight ahead, with a faint, subtle curve at the corners of his mouth.

She saw it.

She remembered it.

She would not forget it.

(08:10) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Oppa, good morning! Today I was woken up by Lami using the "Gentle Wake-up Mode"~ It slowly changed colors by my pillow, fading from lavender purple to peach pink, and it even played soothing music! (Sends a GIF of Lami flickering and changing colors in the morning light)]

(08:13) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [A major accident happened during breakfast! Lami tried to imitate the star-shaped rice ball I ate yesterday and molded itself into a triangular rice ball... then it got stuck in that shape and couldn't get out! Now it's flashing red on the coffee table, calling for help! (Sends a photo of Lami stuck in a triangle shape, flickering pitifully)]

(08:16) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Emergency help needed! I restarted it three times and it's still triangle-shaped. Does it think it's a convenience store rice ball? Manager Unnie laughed so hard she sprayed her coffee... I had to hide it in my bag and bring it to the company, hoping it can self-repair on the way.]

(08:19) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [I secretly opened my bag on the subway to check on it, and when Lami saw me, it actually pitifully turned into a small puddle of purple liquid, slumped at the bottom of the bag... Ah, is it angry at me? (Sends a "peeking" photo of a faint purple light showing through a gap in the bag)]

(08:22) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Arrived at the company! Lami has finally returned to its original shape, but it refuses to talk to me... Now it's huddled in the corner of the practice room with its back to everyone, only occasionally flashing a purple light to signal "I'm alive but very hurt." How do I coax it? Waiting online, urgent!]

(08:25) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [NingNing says to bribe it with honey, Giselle suggests playing soothing music, and Karina Unnie calmly said "Just leave it in the corner to be quiet." Who should I listen to? The frequency of the purple light Lami is flashing now is 38 times per minute; what emotional state does that represent?]