38: Chapter 38 A Feast for the Senses! Wild Boars Feed!

Jiang Zhiyu smiled. That smile was not the appreciation of "I didn't expect you to be so excellent," not the surprise of "So you have this side to you," nor was it any kind of smile that could be classified as "kindness" or "praise."

The curve of his mouth was eerie, his eyes slightly narrowed, and his pupils reflected Bae Joo-hyun's calm, emotionless face.

The meaning of that smile was— "What I say next will make you furious to death." Not "possibly," but "definitely." Definitely, meaning there was no room for negotiation.

"As expected, small body, big energy! Daebak!" His voice was loud, loud enough to echo in the practice room, loud enough that the phone in Yeri's hand almost dropped again, loud enough that Seulgi's mouth went from "pursed" to "open," loud enough that Joy's iced Americano cup slipped from her hand, and this time it really spilled, the black liquid splashing onto the floor, onto Wendy's sweatpants, and onto Seulgi's socks.

No one noticed, because everyone's attention was on Jiang Zhiyu, on that sentence he said. "Small body, big energy." Small body, big energy.

Small body— Bae Joo-hyun is short. This is what anti-fans use to attack her, what fans use to feel sorry for her, and what she uses to tease herself. She can say "I am short," but others cannot. If they say it, it is impolite. Impolite, meaning— she heard it.

Everyone was stunned. Yeri's mouth was still open, forgetting to close it. Seulgi's eyes were wide round, her pupils reflecting Jiang Zhiyu's eerily smiling face.

Joy's fingers were suspended in mid-air, the iced Americano had spilled, but she didn't look down. Wendy's pen had slipped from her hand for the second time, and this time she didn't pick it up.

Karina's hand, which was taking notes, also paused, the pen tip hovering over the paper, the ink forming a tiny black bead, about to fall but not yet. She jerked her head up to look at Jiang Zhiyu.

She saw the deliberateness and caution in his eyes. It wasn't the panic of "accidentally saying the wrong thing," not the fear of "I said something wrong, I'm so scared." It was deliberate, intentional, and calculated.

He wanted to say this sentence, he wanted Bae Joo-hyun to hear it, he wanted to make her angry. Why? Karina didn't know. She only knew that he was doing something very dangerous.

So dangerous that she wanted to cover his mouth, so dangerous that she wanted to drag him out of the practice room, so dangerous that she wanted to apologize for him. But she didn't move, because her body was frozen by the question of "Why would he do this?"

The smile on Bae Joo-hyun's face gradually disappeared. Not "slowly disappeared," but "disappeared in an instant." Like someone pressed the delete key, the curve of her mouth was gone, the light in her eyes was gone, and her whole face changed from "I'm listening" to "What are you saying?"

She looked at Jiang Zhiyu, at his eerily smiling face that seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Her lips moved. "Producer Jiang, what did you say?" Every word was like it had been taken out of a refrigerator, cold, hard, and covered in frost.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear. Clear enough that Yeri shivered, clear enough that Seulgi's knees came together, clear enough that Joy straightened the spilled iced Americano cup, clear enough that Wendy bent down to pick up her pen.

Clear enough that Jiang Zhiyu's smile froze for a moment. Not "disappeared," but "froze." It froze for a second, then recovered. Recovered, meaning— he was still smiling.

Jiang Zhiyu smiled and made eye contact with Bae Joo-hyun. His eyes were looking into her eyes, his pupils reflecting her face; her face had no expression, but his did. It was a smile, the kind of smile that said "I know you'll be angry, but I'm going to say it anyway," the kind of smile that said "The angrier you get, the happier I am," the kind of smile that said "I'm just teasing you."

Then his expression changed. From "smiling" to "panicked," from "panicked" to "shocked," from "shocked" to "I'm scared." His mouth was slightly open, his eyes widened, his eyebrows raised, his whole face written with "Did I say something wrong?"

"Ani-ani— no, no— Irene sunbaenim, you misunderstood, what I meant was—" His voice was trembling, not really trembling, but faking it. Karina saw it, because his earlobes weren't red.

When he said "small body, big energy," his earlobes weren't red. When he said "ani-ani," his earlobes weren't red either. He was acting. He was acting like a junior who said the wrong thing, acting like a junior afraid of his senior getting angry, acting like a junior who said "I didn't mean it." He wasn't. He was intentional.

Jiang Zhiyu took a deep breath, as if to embolden himself. His chest expanded and then deflated. He looked at Bae Joo-hyun, at that expressionless face, at those cold eyes. His mouth opened, and his voice squeezed out from his throat, carrying an eagerness of "I'm helping you explain."

"Although your height... uh, is relatively petite and cute, but! Your head is big!" His voice went up half a tone, as if announcing some good news. "A big head makes your face look small! This is an advantage that many people can't even ask for! And! And your hair volume is also... also not too much—"

His voice got a little quieter, as if probing, as if observing her reaction. She had no reaction. Her expression was still the same, calm, cold, and showing no emotion. But she gritted her teeth. Not "biting," but "grinding." She ground them once, and then recovered. Recovered, meaning— she was enduring it.

Karina was already covering her face, not daring to look at the scene that was to follow. Her hands covered her face, her eyes peeking through the gaps in her fingers. Her eyes were watching Jiang Zhiyu, watching his mouth that was still talking, watching his expression of "I'm helping you explain."

A voice in her heart was saying— he was courting death. Not "possibly," but "definitely." Definitely, meaning there was no room for negotiation. She didn't dare to look at Bae Joo-hyun, because she was afraid of seeing Bae Joo-hyun's expression. Afraid of seeing her anger, afraid of seeing her grievance, afraid of seeing her "I'll remember you." She didn't want to see it, so she covered her face.

Jiang Zhiyu was still talking. "—No! It's not saying you're bald, haha~" His voice raised again, as if correcting a very serious misunderstanding. "I'm saying! The hair volume is moderate, refreshing and not greasy, very suitable for various gorgeous, not-too-heavy palace hairstyles! It perfectly fits the Red Queen's noble and... and..."

His voice got smaller and smaller, smaller and smaller, so small it was like he was talking to himself. "And what?" Bae Joo-hyun's voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear. Jiang Zhiyu's mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

He looked at Bae Joo-hyun, at that face that finally had an expression. A flush of red rose on her cheeks, not the red of "shyness," but the red of "anger." As red as the sunset clouds, as red as a ripe persimmon, as red as her mood at this moment— she wanted to hit him.

Not "wanted to," but "really wanted to." Really wanted to, but she endured it. Because she was not the type of person who would use violence. She was Bae Joo-hyun, the leader of Red Velvet, the "fourth-generation goddess," the "completed idol" in the hearts of countless people. She couldn't hit people, couldn't scold people, couldn't lose her composure. She could only endure.

Face like peach blossoms, a beauty in a fit of pique. Jiang Zhiyu's heart rate began to soar. One hundred thirty, one hundred forty, one hundred fifty. So fast that his chest could barely contain that heart, so fast that his ears could hear the sound of blood flowing in his veins, so fast that his fingers were trembling.

Not "fear," but "excitement." He had successfully caught her attention. Not "attention," but "anger." Anger is also attention, and attention means she was looking at him. She was looking at him, not "looking," but "glaring." Glaring at him, glaring at his mouth that was still smiling, glaring at his eyes that were still looking at her. She was looking at him. He had succeeded.

Bae Joo-hyun gave him a cold look. That look was very short, short to only one second. But in that one second, Jiang Zhiyu felt a chill of minus forty degrees. Not "cold," but "ice." So icy that his smile froze, so icy that his heart rate slowed down, so icy that his fingers stopped trembling.

She stood up, the chair slid back, making no sound because she held it with her hand. She turned and walked toward the door. Her pace was neither fast nor slow, the distance of each step was about the same. Her back was held very straight, her shoulders were not hunched up, her chin was not tucked in, and her fingers were not curled. She was very calm, so calm that it was as if nothing had happened just now.

But when she was closing the door, she stopped. Not "stopped," but "paused." She paused for a moment, and then she spoke. "Childish."

One word. The voice was not loud, but very clear. Clear enough that Yeri's phone finally dropped, clear enough that Seulgi's knee hit the table leg, clear enough that Joy's iced Americano cup rolled onto the floor, clear enough that Wendy's pen slipped for the third time, clear enough that Karina's fingers slid down from her face. The door closed. Her footsteps gradually faded away in the corridor, absorbed by the walls, and drowned out by the buzzing of the air conditioning vent.

Jiang Zhiyu chuckled. Not a "laugh," but a "hum." He hummed, very short, short to only half a second. But the curve of his mouth, it wasn't the curve of a "hum," but the curve of "I won." He won, won a "childish" from her, won a "cold look" from her, won a "turning-away back" from her.

He won, but he didn't know what he had won. He only knew that she was angry. If she was angry, she would remember him. If she remembered, she wouldn't forget. Wouldn't forget, meaning— he was in her memory.

Jiang Zhiyu's original expression, that teasing smile, instantly receded. Like someone turned off a switch, the smile was gone, the light in his eyes was gone, his whole face changed from "I'm teasing you" to "I'm working." His expression became serious, with an elite, work-efficient aura that carried a biting cold wind, directly packing up the funny atmosphere in the practice room just now and throwing it out the window. Thrown out, it was gone. Gone, it was a new beginning. He started working.

He looked at the three of them, Karina and the others. Minjeong was still standing at the door, her hands still hanging down, her facial expression changing from "social death" to "what is he doing?" Ningning's gaze changed from "out of focus" to "focused," focused on Jiang Zhiyu's face, focused on his unique skill of "changing faces."

Karina's hands came down from her face, her fingers still carrying the temperature of her face, her eyes still carrying the lingering fear of "I didn't dare to look." She looked at Jiang Zhiyu, at his face that had changed from "goofy" to "elite," and a voice in her heart was saying— he is really scary. Not "scary," but "amazing."

Amazing enough to make people laugh in the previous second, and make people cry in the next second. Not "cry," but "work." Work, is serious. Serious, meaning— she picked up her pen, ready to record.

Jiang Zhiyu turned his gaze to the remaining four members of Red Velvet. Yeri, Seulgi, Joy, Wendy. They were sitting in their original positions, in various postures, but their expressions were unified— a unified "what just happened?" Yeri's mouth was still open, Seulgi's knee was still hurting, Joy's iced Americano was still spilled, and Wendy's pen was still on the floor.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't look at their disheveled state; his gaze moved from Yeri's face to Seulgi's face, from Seulgi's face to Joy's face, from Joy's face to Wendy's face. His right finger joints tapped twice crisply on the single desk that had been moved over. Da, da. The sound wasn't loud, but it was very clear in the quiet practice room.

Clear enough that Yeri's mouth closed, clear enough that Seulgi forgot her knee pain, clear enough that Joy didn't go to pick up the iced Americano cup, clear enough that Wendy didn't bend down to pick up her pen. "Continue the meeting."

A clear and gentle boyish voice sounded, carrying a bit of confident composure. Not an "order," but a "notification." Notifying them that the meeting would continue. Notifying them that what just happened was over. Notifying them that he was the person in charge. The person in charge, means he has the final say. If he says continue, then it must continue.

—— Jiang Zhiyu sat in the chair in the recording studio, in front of him was a glowing computer screen, the audio track was blank, the cursor was blinking, blinking, as if urging him.

He stared at that cursor, stared for a long time. His fingers rested on the MIDI keyboard, not moving. Not because he didn't want to move, but because his mind was too chaotic, so chaotic that it was like a hundred people were talking at the same time, some saying to write this, some saying to write that, some saying the melody should be sad, some saying the rhythm should be strong, some saying the lyrics should be profound, some saying— he couldn't hear clearly.

Because Bae Joo-hyun's face kept spinning in his mind. Not "spinning," but "flashing." A flash, the way she frowned. A flash, the way she gritted her teeth. A flash, the way a flush of red rose on her cheeks, a face like peach blossoms, a beauty in a fit of pique. That look was too beautiful, so beautiful that he forgot he was writing a song, forgot he was sitting in the recording studio, forgot there were blank audio tracks and a blinking cursor in front of him.

Heart rate one hundred twenty, one hundred thirty, one hundred forty. So fast that his chest could barely contain that heart, so fast that his ears could hear the sound of blood flowing in his veins. He took a deep breath and recited the Heart-Cleansing Mantra. Not "recited," but "memorized." Memorized the first line, forgot the second line. Memorized the second line, forgot the third line. By the time he reached the fifth line, Bae Joo-hyun's face flashed in his mind again.

He gave up. Leaning back on the chair, looking at the ceiling. That fluorescent light was still the same, the tungsten wire in the tube was glowing, not flickering, not dim, not making a buzzing sound. He stared at that light and thought— he was finished. Not the "finished" of "doomed," but the "finished" of "it's over, he can't write it."

If he can't write it, he can't submit the song. If he can't submit the song, he can't comeback. If he can't comeback, he can't— he sat up straight, his fingers fell on the keyboard, and he played a chord. Wrong, delete. Played another one, wrong, delete. Played another one, still wrong. He pushed the keyboard away.

After that "SM's strongest group encounters their first Waterloo in the Red Velvet practice room," Karina suffered five days of death-stare attacks from Minjeong and Ningning.

Minjeong's look at her changed from "Unnie" to "enemy," from "enemy" to "murderer." Ningning's look at her changed from "teacher's friend" to "culprit who caused my social death," from "culprit" to "I want revenge."

The two people's gazes were like two knives, cutting into Karina one knife at a time. She didn't dare to look at them, because she knew she was wrong. She had used the kings card to give the order, making them drag Jiang Zhiyu's hand, walking sideways into the Red Velvet practice room, to be seen by Yeri, seen by Seulgi, seen by Joy, seen by Wendy, seen by Bae Joo-hyun. They had socially died. She was the culprit. She pleaded guilty.

Her handwritten apology letter was long and rambling, spanning nearly five thousand words. It started with "Mianhae" and ended with "I was truly wrong." In the middle were phrases like "I shouldn't have used the kings card to give that kind of order," "I shouldn't have made you suffer social death in front of the Red Velvet seniors," and "I shouldn't have only cared about my own happiness and ignored your feelings." The phrases "Mianhae" and "I was truly wrong" were repeated countless times; she had counted them, and the repetition rate was as high as forty-five percent. The remaining fifty-five percent consisted of "I won't dare to do it again," "I will never play the kings card again," and "I swear." Kim Minjeong finished reading the apology letter, folded it, and put it in her pocket. She didn't say "I forgive you," nor did she say "I don't forgive you." She simply said, "Your handwriting is not bad." Karina didn't know if this was a compliment or sarcasm; she only knew that an apology by letter alone was not enough. Social death was a mental attack, and a mental attack required mental compensation. Mental compensation meant—treating them to a meal. One meal wasn't enough, two meals weren't enough, three meals—maybe that would be enough. She didn't know. She only knew she had to treat them. Treat them until they forgave her.

The four of them gathered once again at their usual barbecue restaurant. The seats hadn't changed, the charcoal hadn't changed, and even the waiter hadn't changed. But the atmosphere had changed. Before, it was happy; now, it was heavy. Before, they were smiling; now, they were serious. Before, they were fighting over meat; now, it was—Jiang Zhiyu, Kim Minjeong, and Ningning sat in a row, the three of them shoulder to shoulder, like a wall. Karina sat alone opposite them, like a prisoner in the dock. The charcoal was already set on the table, burning under the grill, and the red light reflected on the faces of the four, illuminating their expressions clearly. Jiang Zhiyu's expression was very serious, but looking at it for a long time made one feel it was quite funny, because the curve of his mouth was twitching—not from a "cramp," but from "suppressing laughter." Suppressing laughter until the corners of his mouth cramped. Kim Minjeong's expression was also very serious, her lips pressed into a line, her brows knitted together, her whole face spelling out "I am very angry." But her eyes were smiling—not "smiling," but "bright." So bright that it was as if someone had lit a lamp in her pupils. Ningning's expression was also very serious, her arms crossed, her chin slightly lifted, her gaze fixed straight ahead, like a statue. But her statue was crooked, because she was peeking at Karina's expression.

Lee Tima hadn't arrived yet; she sent a message saying she was already on the way. She was also bringing a reinforcement—no, not "one," but "two." The names were sent over—Im Nayeon, Momo. When Karina saw those two names, she fell silent. Kim Minjeong and Ningning also fell silent. Jiang Zhiyu laughed—not a "smile," but a "big laugh." He laughed very happily, so happy that he gave himself a mental thumbs-up. This was his idea. The first installment of eating the chaebol poor: bill revenge. He definitely couldn't eat much himself because his stomach wasn't big. Kim Minjeong and Ningning couldn't eat much either because they were controlling their weight. Therefore, he needed reinforcements, reinforcements who could eat, could drink, and could eat until Karina cried. Im Nayeon, Momo. Members of TWICE, famous for being able to eat. Not just "able to eat," but "very able to eat." Very able to eat meant—he had won.

Karina sat alone opposite them. In front of her was a cup of barley tea; the water was warm, and a thin layer of condensation clung to the cup. She didn't drink it because she didn't dare to. She was afraid that if she lowered her head, she would be pierced through by the three gazes from across the table. Those three gazes: one from Jiang Zhiyu, calm and devoid of emotion, yet she read "You're finished" within it. One from Kim Minjeong, aggrieved, carrying the accusation of "Do you know how uncomfortable I am?" One from Ningning, resentful, as if she had been dragged out of a warm quilt and thrown into an ice cellar. She didn't dare to look, but she had to look. Because she had done something wrong.

Jiang Zhiyu leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his chin slightly lifted. This posture was not that of a "noble prince," but of a "judge." He looked at her, watched for a few seconds, and then spoke. "Ji-min, you—"

"Mianhae, Mianhae, Mianhae—"

Karina's voice seemed to spring out from a coil, so fast that even her own ears couldn't keep up. Her hands were pressed together, fingers joined, knuckles white, her whole body leaning forward from the chair, her forehead nearly touching the table. Her mouth opened and closed, and "Mianhae" shot out from her throat like a machine gun, one after another, so dense that she didn't need to take a breath, so dense that a crack appeared in Kim Minjeong's serious expression, so dense that Ningning's resentful gaze wavered.

"Mianhae—I was truly wrong—Mianhae—I shouldn't have used the kings card—Mianhae—I shouldn't have given that kind of order—Mianhae—I shouldn't have made you, in front of the Red Velvet seniors—Mianhae—I was truly, truly wrong—Mianhae—"

The corner of Kim Minjeong's mouth twitched. Not a "twitch," but a "movement." It moved once, then returned to normal. Returned to normal meant she was still holding back. Holding back meant she was still acting. Still acting meant she still hadn't forgiven her. Hadn't forgiven meant— "You know." Kim Minjeong spoke, her voice not loud, but very clear. Karina's "Mianhae" stopped. Her mouth was still open, but the sound was gone.

"I have always treated you as the best and most respected Unnie." Kim Minjeong's tone was very calm, so calm it was like reading a letter written many times. "But what about you?" Her voice rose slightly, carrying a questioning tone of "Do you know what you've done?" "You made us suffer social death."

Ningning nodded from the side and added, "You gave that order." Her voice was lighter than Kim Minjeong's, but her tone was heavier than Kim Minjeong's. Heavy, like a small pebble—not big, but it would hurt if it hit your head.

Kim Minjeong took a deep breath, as if recalling some unbearable scene. "You left us with the title of '21st Century Grand Princess's Handmaidens' at SM Entertainment." When she said "21st Century Grand Princess's Handmaidens," every word seemed to be squeezed out from between her teeth, carrying a hatred of "I will never forget this."

Ningning nodded again and added, "Number twelve on the trending search."

Kim Minjeong's eyes narrowed slightly, as if stung by something. "Most importantly—you made us suffer social death in front of the Red Velvet seniors!" Her voice rose by half a tone, high enough that the guests at the next table turned to look. She didn't care because her attention was entirely on Karina, entirely on that face scrunched up with guilt.

Ningning nodded again. "Ji-min Unnie is just too much."

Jiang Zhiyu also nodded. "Too much." His voice was not loud, but very clear. Clear enough that Karina's shoulders shrank, clear enough that her fingers twisted together, clear enough that she lowered her head. Her head was very low, so low that her chin was almost touching the table.

Kim Minjeong glanced at Jiang Zhiyu, then at Ningning. The three of them exchanged a look. That look was short, so short it was only a fraction of a second. But in those few fractions of a second, they reached a consensus. "So, today—" the three of them spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping like a not-so-harmonious but very powerful trio. "You are responsible for grilling the meat!"

Karina kept her head down, her voice as small as a mosquito's buzz. "Nae—" The tail of the sound was drawn out very long, so long that it sounded like a sigh, and also like resignation. There was no "Okay" in her "Nae," only "I understand." Understanding meant agreeing. Agreeing meant—she picked up the barbecue tongs and placed them in front of herself. The tongs were metal, silver-white, reflecting a cold light under the lamp. She looked at the tongs as if looking at a knife about to be used for an execution. The knife was hers, the meat was theirs, and she was the executioner. Not an "executioner," but a "griller." A griller meant being responsible for grilling. If she grilled, she couldn't eat. If she couldn't eat, she had to watch them eat. Watching them eat was the punishment. Punishment meant—she accepted it.

Kim Minjeong, Ningning, and Jiang Zhiyu looked at Karina's bowed head in admission of guilt, and internally wanted to laugh. Not "wanted to laugh," but "couldn't hold it in anymore." The corner of Kim Minjeong's mouth was twitching, twitching until the muscles in her cheeks began to ache. Ningning's lips were pressed together, pressed until the lines of her lips were flattened. Jiang Zhiyu's expression was still that serious, judge-like look, but his earlobes were red. He held it in. All three of them held it in. Because it wasn't time to laugh yet. Lee Tima hadn't arrived, the reinforcements hadn't arrived, and the Korean beef hadn't been served. Laughing too early would break their act. Breaking their act would make their performance in vain. In vain meant—they continued to act.

Lee Tima hadn't arrived yet. But she sent a message— "Already on the way." No emojis, no punctuation, no "Oppa wait for me." Just "Already on the way." Jiang Zhiyu looked at that line, placed his phone face down on the table, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. He was thinking—who would Lee Tima bring? TWICE? JYP's TWICE? They were very busy, they probably wouldn't come. ITZY? ITZY had just debuted, they probably wouldn't come. Park Jin-young? Impossible. He stopped thinking about it. He opened his eyes and looked at Karina. She was still keeping her head down, her forehead still pressed against the table. Her hands had changed from "clasped" to "holding her head," fingers stuck in her hair, the whole person like an ostrich. Ostriches bury their heads in the sand when they encounter danger; she buried her head in the tabletop when she encountered danger. The tabletop wasn't sand, but the effect was the same. If she couldn't see, then it didn't exist. If it didn't exist, then it was safe. She was safe. What she didn't know was that the reinforcements Lee Tima was bringing would turn her from "safe" into "more dangerous."

— — The evil girl of JYP, the youngest songwriter in history, the shortest producer at JYP—Lee Tima, was online. She stood at the door of the TWICE practice room, wearing a white dress, pigtails, and polished leather shoes. She wasn't holding any candy in her hand, because today she wasn't here to hand out candy; she was here to bring reinforcements.

ITZY had just debuted, and Hwang Yeji had become the leader as expected. The days of Lee Tima becoming the group pet of ITZY started from the moment she first stepped into the ITZY practice room. Shin Yuna and Lee Chaeryeong, two naive girls, were played in the palm of Lee Tima's hand. Lee Tima said, "Yuna Unnie, your legs are so long, did you steal and eat giraffe feed when you were a child?" Shin Yuna was stunned for a long time, not reacting to whether this was a compliment or an insult. Lee Tima said, "Chaeryeong Unnie, your skin is so white, do you take baths in milk every day?" Lee Chaeryeong shyly covered her face and said, "No way," and Lee Tima nodded and said, "Then it must be natural beauty," and Lee Chaeryeong became even shyer. Shin Ryujin watched silently, occasionally helping Lee Tima with a few tricks, such as when Lee Tima said, "Ryujin Unnie said you guys are treating us today," and Shin Ryujin nodded and said, "Yes, I said that." When Shin Ryujin said this, her expression was very serious, so serious that Shin Yuna and Lee Chaeryeong actually took out their wallets. Lia kept her distance, maintaining a safe space. It wasn't because she didn't like Lee Tima, but because she felt this child was too dangerous. Dangerous enough to make her want to stay away. Hwang Yeji was blinded by Lee Tima's cute persona; she thought Lee Tima was an angel, the cutest child in the world, and the most talented songwriter she had ever met. She didn't know how many pranks Lee Tima had pulled within ITZY, because she was always excluded from them. Lee Tima couldn't bear to trick her, because she was Lee Tima's favorite Unnie at JYP. Without exception.

Originally, Lee Tima intended to invite ITZY to participate in the campaign to crusade against Karina for Korean beef. She sent a message in the group chat— "Unnies, someone is treating us to Korean beef today, unlimited, who's coming?" Hwang Yeji replied instantly— "I can't go, there's practice today." Shin Ryujin replied— "Practice." Shin Yuna replied— "Practice + 1." Lee Chaeryeong replied— "Practice + 2." Lia replied— "... Practice + 3." Lee Tima looked at those four "Practice" messages, sighed, and put her phone away. ITZY was too busy; that's how it was just after debut, practicing until the early hours every day, and appearing in the practice room again early the next morning. She didn't blame them; she just felt it was a pity. A pity they couldn't eat the free Korean beef. A pity Karina escaped a disaster. Not a "disaster," but a "meal." She thought for a moment and decided to go to the TWICE practice room to take a look.

TWICE's world tour had just ended, and the schedule for the first half of 2019 was so dense it made one's scalp numb. The nine of them finally obtained a short period of rest, but today there were only a few people in the TWICE practice room. Leader Park Jihyo didn't know where she had run off to go on a date, Mina and Sana had returned to Japan, Tzuyu had gone to eat with friends, Chaeyoung had gone to a certain abstract art exhibition she had wanted to visit for a long time, and Kim Da-hyun was lying like a corpse in the dormitory to recover her vitality. Today, the only ones in the practice room were Im Nayeon, Yoo Jeongyeon, and Momo.

Im Nayeon lay on the floor, looking at the ceiling with dull eyes. Her body was spread out in a "big" shape, limbs splayed, like a dried octopus. Her mouth was slightly open, occasionally exhaling a breath, as if confirming she was still alive. She had been lying there for a long time, so long that the floor had been warmed by her body temperature.

Yoo Jeongyeon was scrolling through her phone on the sofa. Her body was sunken into the sofa, the cushion pressed out of shape, her fingers sliding across the screen at a speed that was neither fast nor slow, as if looking at something that didn't require any urgency. Her expression was very calm, so calm that no emotion could be seen. But her fingers would occasionally stop, stopping on that news story about "TWICE Yoo Jeongyeon gaining weight," stop for a moment, and then swipe past it. Swiping past it meant she hadn't seen it. Not seeing it meant she didn't care. Not caring meant—she continued to swipe.

Momo was learning dance moves. She stood in front of the mirror, dancing over and over again following the video on her phone. Her movements were very standard, so standard it was like copying and pasting. Her hair was soaked with sweat, sticking to her forehead, a few strands of loose hair swaying in front of her eyes, but she didn't reach out to brush them away because she didn't want to interrupt her rhythm. She finished dancing once, stopped, caught her breath, and then started again from the beginning. Im Nayeon watched her back, watching that tireless figure, like one equipped with a perpetual motion machine. A voice in her heart was saying—she was so envious. Not "envious," but "very envious." Very envious of Momo's energy, very envious that she could dance again after finishing once, very envious that she didn't get tired. She was tired. She lay on the floor not wanting to get up.

"Momo, aren't you tired?" Im Nayeon's voice drifted up from the floor, weak and listless, as if she were talking to the ceiling. Momo didn't stop; she answered while dancing. "Not tired! I feel like I could eat another big serving of teppanyaki!" Her voice was very light and cheerful, so cheerful it was like she was saying "The weather is nice today." Im Nayeon licked her lips. Teppanyaki. She thought of the sizzling sound of teppanyaki, the white smoke rising from the sauce dripping onto the iron plate, and the feeling of beef melting in her mouth. Her stomach growled—not a "rumble," but a "roar." Very loud, loud enough for Yoo Jeongyeon to look up at her.

"So... there's a new Japanese restaurant that just opened over in Myeong-dong. How about we go check it out?" Im Nayeon's voice shifted from 'listless' to 'full of anticipation'.

Momo stopped, turned around, and looked at Im Nayeon. Her eyes brightened, and it wasn't just 'bright'—it was 'glowing'.

"Ah! I want to eat spicy hot pot!" Im Nayeon blinked.

"They don't have spicy hot pot at a Japanese restaurant."

"Then let's go eat spicy hot pot."

"Japanese restaurants don't have spicy hot pot either."

"Then why go to a Japanese restaurant?"

"Because I want to eat sashimi."

"What is sashimi?"

"Raw fish."

"Is raw fish delicious?"

"Yes."

"Better than spicy hot pot?"

"...It's a different kind of delicious."

"Then I want to eat spicy hot pot."

Im Nayeon looked at her, at that serious face that didn't look like it was joking, and fell silent. She gave up.

"Fine, fine, fine, I'll order delivery right now!" She picked up her phone, opened the delivery app, and started scrolling.

Her fingers swiped rapidly across the screen, passing shop after shop. Fried chicken, no. Pizza, no. Chinese food, no. Spicy hot pot—she paused.

Momo wanted it, but she didn't. She wanted Japanese food today. But Momo wanted spicy hot pot. She thought for a moment and decided to order two portions. One Japanese, one spicy hot pot.

She could eat the Japanese food, and Momo could eat the spicy hot pot. Perfect. She placed the order.

"Jeongyeon, do you want to eat?" Im Nayeon looked up at Yoo Jeongyeon on the sofa. Yoo Jeongyeon didn't look up, her gaze still fixed on her phone screen.

"No, I'm on a diet." Her tone was flat, so flat it was as if she were saying 'I'm not hungry'.

Im Nayeon watched her, looking at her face which was a circle rounder than before, and her eyes which were a layer deeper.

She knew she wasn't dieting because she 'wanted to', but because she 'had to'. There was too much hate, so much that she herself had started to doubt, 'Have I really gained weight?'

It wasn't 'gained weight', it was 'swollen'. Side effects of medication, no way around it. The company couldn't do much about it either; after all, gaining weight due to medication was an exceptional circumstance.

Compared to work, a person's health was more important. That was JYP's company philosophy. But philosophy was philosophy, and reality was reality.

The reality was that netizens wouldn't care if you gained weight because of medication. They would only say, 'Yoo Jeongyeon has gained weight', 'TWICE is finished', 'Why hasn't she left the group yet'.

She had seen a lot of it, so much that she didn't want to look anymore. Didn't want to look, so she wouldn't. Wouldn't look, so she'd scroll through something else. Scroll through something else, and she'd still come across it.

Came across it, and she'd swipe past. Swiped past, and that was that—she kept scrolling.

Im Nayeon pursed her lips, but still went back to order a chicken breast salad. She chose the lowest-calorie dressing, the fewest toppings, and selected the 'less oil, less salt' note.

She glanced at the total price; it was more expensive than the spicy hot pot. She didn't frown, because this was for Yoo Jeongyeon. For her, no price was too high.

"Nayeon Unnie, did you say Lee Tima just now?" Momo sat cross-legged on the floor, tilting her head like a cat deep in thought.

Her hair was still wet, sweat dripping from the tips onto her sweatpants, soaking into a small dark circle. She didn't wipe it away because she didn't feel wet. She only felt hot.

Hot meant she had just finished exercising. Just finished exercising meant she felt comfortable. Comfortable meant—she was waiting for Im Nayeon to answer.

"Ah! Momo, do you know Tima? The new little girl." Im Nayeon's voice shifted from 'flat' to 'excited', and from 'excited' to 'gossipy'.

She sat up, crossed her legs, rested her hands on her knees, and leaned forward like a cat that had spotted prey. Momo tilted her head and thought. "Ti...ma?"

Her brows furrowed, her mouth slightly pouted, her whole face written with 'I'm thinking'. Yoo Jeongyeon didn't look up, but she spoke. "The little girl who gave you candy."

Momo's eyes brightened, and it wasn't 'bright'—it was 'remembered'. "Oh—I know! Her name is Tima? What a strange name." She paused, "But Nayeon Unnie, why bring her up?"

Im Nayeon said, sounding frustrated that Momo wasn't living up to her expectations. "Yah! Momo! Tima is in charge of our junior group ITZY's songs!"

Her voice rose half an octave, as if announcing an important piece of news. Her eyes were wide, and her pupils reflected Momo's blank, uncomprehending face.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then the corners of her mouth slowly curled up—not a 'smile', but an 'evil smile'. Hehehe. Her laughter squeezed out from her throat, carrying a mysterious air of 'I have a secret to tell you'.

"And—" She paused, shifting her gaze from Momo's face to Yoo Jeongyeon's, then back to Momo's. "Lee Tima's brother, do you know who he is?"

Yoo Jeongyeon didn't look up. "Jiang Zhiyu." Her voice was flat, so flat it was as if she were saying 'The weather is nice today'.

Im Nayeon glanced at her, her mouth twitching. "...Jeongyeon, can you not spoil it?"

"You asked 'Do you know who it is?', I knew, so I answered."

"You could have pretended not to know."

"I don't want to pretend."

"You—" Im Nayeon took a deep breath. "Forget it." She turned her head and looked at Momo. "Momo! Jiang Zhiyu! The person who wrote the song for Taeyeon Sunbaenim! Look, this is his photo!"

She held her phone up to Momo, the screen showing a photo of Jiang Zhiyu. A white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top button of his collar undone.

His hair was a bit long, his bangs hanging down and covering half his forehead. There was a faint curve at the corner of his mouth—not a smile, but a confirmation of 'I'm looking at you'. Momo looked at the photo and blinked. "Oh, he is quite handsome."

Im Nayeon looked at Momo's still-oblivious face, which hadn't rippled with any reaction, and her blood pressure soared.

She took a deep breath and told herself—Momo is a dummy, Momo is simple, Momo is only interested in eating and dancing. She couldn't measure Momo by normal standards. She couldn't get angry. She couldn't—she couldn't help it.

"Momo! Jiang Zhiyu is a hot, genius songwriter right now! His sister is a genius too! If we get on good terms with Lee Tima—" Her eyes were glowing, as if looking at a dream about to come true. Momo's eyes also brightened. "Then we'll have new songs and dances to perform!"

Im Nayeon and Yoo Jeongyeon collapsed simultaneously. Im Nayeon fell onto Momo's lap, and Yoo Jeongyeon collapsed onto the sofa. Both of them let out an 'Ugh—', as if struck by something.

Momo looked down at Im Nayeon, at her 'I've given up on explaining' face, and tilted her head. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." Im Nayeon's voice came from Momo's lap, muffled. "You're right. New songs and dances are indeed what we need."

She sat up, rested her hands on Momo's shoulders, and stared with wide eyes, close enough for Momo to see her own reflection in her pupils. "But! We don't just need new songs and dances! What we need is—resources! Connections! Opportunities! With these, we can have whatever we want!"

Yoo Jeongyeon's voice came from the sofa. "Nayeon, what do you want?"

Im Nayeon turned her head and looked at Yoo Jeongyeon. Yoo Jeongyeon's gaze was still on her phone screen, not looking at her, but there was a curve at the corner of her mouth. Not a smile, but a confirmation of 'I know what you're thinking'.

Im Nayeon's face turned red. Not the red of 'shyness', but the red of 'being called out'.

"Jiang Zhiyu himself?" Yoo Jeongyeon's tone was flat, so flat it was as if she were saying 'Did you eat lunch?'.

Im Nayeon's face went even redder. "You—what are you saying!" Her voice rose half an octave, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "I didn't—I'm not—I just—"

She couldn't continue. Because she had indeed thought about it. Not 'thinking', but 'had thought about it'. Thought about if Jiang Zhiyu wrote a song for TWICE, thought about if Jiang Zhiyu became TWICE's album producer, thought about if Jiang Zhiyu—she stopped thinking.

She pounced on Yoo Jeongyeon, and the two tangled together, making a scene. Yoo Jeongyeon's phone was knocked flying, landing in the gap of the sofa; she didn't go to pick it up because Im Nayeon was tickling her. She was ticklish, so she laughed. Laughed until she couldn't breathe, laughed until tears came out.

Momo scratched her head, watching the two Unnies rolling around on the sofa. She didn't understand why they were fighting, she only knew she was hungry. When would the delivery arrive?

Just as she was thinking about the delivery, a knocking sound rang out. Knock, knock, knock, very urgent, as if someone were pounding on the door with their fist. Momo stood up, walked to the door, and opened it.

Lee Tima stood outside, wearing a white dress, twin tails, and polished shoes. She wasn't holding any candy, but her face wore a smile, a very sweet smile, sweet enough as if she had a candy in her mouth.

"Oh, Tima." Momo looked at the cute girl in front of her in surprise. Lee Tima bowed politely. "Hello, Momo Unnie."

Im Nayeon immediately patted Yoo Jeongyeon who was pressing on her, sat up properly, and tidied her messy hair. Her fingers wove through her hair, pressing down the strands that were sticking up and straightening her crooked hair clip.

Her movements were quick, so quick it was like she was a thief. She didn't want Lee Tima to see her in such a disheveled state because she was a senior. A senior had to look like a senior. Looking like one meant—she sat up straight.

After Lee Tima saw Im Nayeon, her smile broke out. Not a 'smile', but a 'laugh'. Her mouth split open, revealing two rows of neat teeth, her eyes curved into crescent moons, her whole face written with 'Nayeon Unnie, I'm here'.

She shouted 'Nayeon Unnie', and her small body crashed toward her. At first, Im Nayeon opened her arms to wait for her, her arms spread out like a mother bird waiting for her little bird to return to the nest.

Her mouth had a smile, her eyes had light, her whole face written with 'Come here, Tima'. Then she saw Lee Tima not slowing down at all. Not 'running', but 'charging'.

Charging over, the speed so fast her hair was blown up by the wind, so fast her skirt fluttered behind her, so fast her smile froze. Her expression shifted from 'anticipation' to 'terror', and from 'terror' to 'I'm going to die'.

Her arms shifted from 'spread open' to 'flailing wildly', as if grabbing for something in the air. She couldn't grab anything, because Lee Tima had already crashed into her. Bang.

The two of them collided, and Im Nayeon fell straight onto her butt. Her bottom hit the floor with a dull thud. Her mouth was open, her eyes wide, her whole face written with 'What just happened?'.

Lee Tima lay on top of her, her face buried in her chest like a little kitten that had found its nest. Her hair had come undone, the twin tails turning into a single tail—no, it turned into 'no ponytail'.

The hair tie fell to the floor, rolled around, and stopped at Yoo Jeongyeon's feet. Yoo Jeongyeon looked down at the hair tie, bent over, picked it up, and placed it on the table.

"Yah! Lee Tima!" Im Nayeon's voice squeezed out from her throat, carrying a complex emotion of 'I want to scold you but I can't bear to'.

Lee Tima lifted her head from her chest, looked at her, and smiled. She smiled very apologetically, the curve of her mouth smaller, the light in her eyes dimmer, her whole face written with 'I didn't mean to'.

She had meant to. Im Nayeon knew, but she didn't expose her.

Yoo Jeongyeon watched this scene, the corners of her mouth slightly raised. "Tima, do you have something to ask us?"

Lee Tima climbed off Im Nayeon, stood in the center of the practice room, put her hands on her hips, and lifted her chin slightly. Her expression shifted from 'apologetic' to 'smug', and from 'smug' to 'guess'.

"Can't I come see you if there's nothing?" Her voice was loud, loud enough to echo in the practice room. Yoo Jeongyeon smiled. "Sure, sure."

Lee Tima hummed lightly, the curve of her mouth growing larger. She took a deep breath, as if brewing some very important announcement.

"Unnies! Today, let me treat you to Korean beef!" Her voice was loud, so loud that Im Nayeon's butt bounced off the floor, so loud that Momo's eyes widened like copper bells, so loud that Yoo Jeongyeon's phone vibrated in the sofa gap.

Im Nayeon was shocked. "You—you're treating?" Lee Tima nodded. "Yeah! Korean beef! All you can eat!"

Momo shouted out immediately. "I'm going!" Her voice was even louder than Lee Tima's, loud enough to make Lee Tima's ears ring. She didn't care, because her goal had been achieved.

Momo was going, and Im Nayeon would go too. Im Nayeon was going, and Yoo Jeongyeon—Yoo Jeongyeon wasn't. She looked at Yoo Jeongyeon, who was holding her forehead.

"Tima, I'm very happy that you're treating us to a meal." Im Nayeon's voice shifted from 'shocked' to 'calm', and from 'calm' to 'cautious'.

"But, if I don't know who's hosting—" Her tone carried a hint of probing, a hint of worry, and a hint of concern of 'I'm afraid you're being deceived'.

Lee Tima said gleefully. "It's Oppa—no, my Oppa's good friend who's treating." She pulled her phone from her pocket, brought up a photo, and held it up in front of Im Nayeon. "It's her!"

A photo of Karina. White T-shirt, light blue jeans, canvas shoes. Her hair was loose, and there was a faint curve at the corner of her mouth—not a smile, but a confirmation of 'I'm looking at you'.

Her eyes were bright, bright enough as if they were glowing. Im Nayeon raised an eyebrow. "What a pretty child."

Momo leaned in, looked at the photo, and nodded. "Yeah, she is indeed very pretty."

Yoo Jeongyeon poked her head out from the sofa and took a look. "Definitely the visual center after debut." She paused, "An SM Entertainment trainee?"

Lee Tima nodded. "Yeah. Karina. An SM Entertainment trainee. Also my Oppa's friend. She's treating today, all-you-can-eat Korean beef. So—are you Unnies going?"

Yoo Jeongyeon waved her hand. "I won't go. I'm on a diet." Her tone was flat, so flat it was as if she were saying 'I'm not hungry'.

Im Nayeon watched her, looking at her face which was a circle rounder than before, and her eyes which were a layer deeper.

She didn't say 'You're not fat', she didn't say 'You don't need to diet', she didn't say 'You look good no matter what'. She knew it would be useless to say it; Yoo Jeongyeon wouldn't believe her.

So she only said one sentence—"Jeongyeon-ah, I'll bring you something delicious." Yoo Jeongyeon waved her hand, not looking at her, her gaze returning to her phone screen.

Im Nayeon watched her for a moment, silent. Then she stood up, patted the dust off her pants, picked up her phone, and took Momo's hand. "Let's go."

Lee Tima walked in front, her twin tails swinging back and forth behind her head. Her steps were light, light enough as if she were dancing.

There was a curve at the corner of her mouth—not a smile, but a confirmation of 'I succeeded'. She had successfully invited Im Nayeon and Momo, successfully added two more people to Karina's bill, and successfully made the lineup for the crusade against Karina's Korean beef even stronger.

She walked down the hallway, the sunlight shining in from the window, landing on her and gilding her silhouette with a layer of golden light. Her shadow was stretched long and thin, cast on the floor like a small, growing giant.