381: Chapter 443 Phantom Thief Zhimin (9)

In Seoul's autumn, the sunlight was a lazy gold, spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows and spreading a warm patch of light across the floor.

Dust floated slowly in the beams of light, like a group of travelers without a destination.

Jang Wonyoung was curled up on the sofa, her whole body sunken into a pile of cushions, wearing that pink loungewear that had been washed until it was a bit faded, her hair tied casually into a bun, with a few stray locks hanging by her ears.

A magazine was spread across her lap, but she hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes.

Ever since the final episode of "twelve star envoys" finished recording, IZ*ONE had officially completed its final journey.

At the disbandment concert, the twelve girls hugged each other and cried in a heap; the fans below the stage held up "Forever Together" cheering signs and cried in a heap; even the staff members cried in a heap.

Jang Wonyoung cried too—she remembered crying very loudly, her tears ruining her makeup, and in the end, she was half-carried, half-dragged off the stage by her Manager.

But that was already a thing of the past.

Now, she was waiting.

Waiting to re-debut as a member of IVE, waiting to stand on another stage, waiting to continue shining in a different way.

Her Manager said it would be soon; the new group was already in the final preparation stage and would probably be officially unveiled in a month or two.

All she needed to do was maintain her condition, manage her figure, practice new songs, and wait for the notification.

Today was a rare day off, with no schedule, no practice, and no meetings.

She had declined all the invitations she could—an online promotion for a skincare brand, an interview for a fashion magazine, and a collaboration request from a short-video platform of unknown origin—all of them declined.

She just wanted to stay home, hold Tami, and think about nothing.

Tami was lying on her knees, its body rising and falling slightly, as if it were breathing.

Its body was that translucent water-blue color, with a texture between jelly and gummy candy, feeling cool and smooth to the touch, yet possessing a strange resilience—if squeezed hard, it would deform, but once released, it would slowly return to its original shape.

The most eye-catching thing was the object on top of its head—a miniature version of a water bottle.

That was a custom-made, top-tier water bottle model worth 400,000 won, exactly the same as the one she had been forced to balance on her head at the filming site of "twelve star envoys".

The bottle body was transparent, with fine, mysterious patterns engraved on the surface, refracting a faint iridescence under the light.

The water bottle was firmly embedded in the indentation on top of Tami's head, swaying gently with the rise and fall of Tami's body, yet it never fell off.

It was a gift from Jiang Zhiyu.

The man who was, in her eyes, a "ssibal gae-jashik byeon-tae K" (fucking bastard pervert PD).

Jang Wonyoung reached out a finger and poked Tami's body.

Tami let out a faint "purr," its body tilting slightly toward her finger, as if it were acting coquettish.

"You're still the best behaved," Jang Wonyoung muttered softly, picking up Tami and pressing it against her cheek.

The cool and soft sensation made her squint her eyes comfortably.

She had to admit, although that pervert PD had something wrong with his brain, the things he made were truly useful.

She glanced at the empty cereal bowl on the coffee table—that was the breakfast Tami had made for her this morning.

It poured the cereal into the bowl, took the milk out of the fridge and poured it in, then used that tiny spoon to stir it three times.

Although simple, for someone who didn't want to get out of bed, it was a savior-level function.

Not to mention Tami's other talents—when cleaning, it would roll around the entire room, absorbing all the dust on the floor onto its body, and then go to the bathroom to wash itself clean; when getting deliveries, it would use its soft, squishy body to wrap around the package and drag it all the way to the front door; picking up takeout was even more impressive; it could use the water bottle on its head as a stand, hang the takeout bag securely on it, and run even faster than her.

Oh right, it could also recognize its owner.

This was the latest AI automatic learning function developed by TG, currently still in the internal testing phase and not available for sale to the public.

The number of people in all of South Korea who possessed this version of Lemm could be counted on one hand.

Jang Wonyoung knew how precious the Tami in her hands was.

Choi Yena's yellow standard version of Lemm, although it could transform, speak, and execute commands, was far inferior in functionality—that piece of junk that could only turn into a Krabby Patty, how could it compare to her Tami?

Kim Minjeong's purple limited edition "Lami" was actually similar to her version, but that was a special capricorn edition, designed exclusively for Kim Minjeong.

It was said that Jiang Zhiyu had put a lot of thought into it, even adding stress monitoring and relief functions to Lami, which could monitor Kim Minjeong's heart rate and blood pressure in real-time, automatically play soothing music when data was abnormal, or issue a reminder— "It's time to rest."

Thinking of this, Jang Wonyoung looked down at the Tami in her arms and poked its head again: "Why don't you have a stress monitoring function? Huh? Do you look down on me?"

Tami let out an innocent "purr," and the water bottle on its head wobbled.

"Never mind, never mind, I don't blame you." Jang Wonyoung rubbed its body, "It's that pervert PD who is biased."

She remembered the scene on the day Jiang Zhiyu gave her Tami.

It was after the final recording of "twelve star envoys" had ended. Everyone else had left, and she was sitting in the dressing room removing her makeup when the door was knocked on.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Jiang Zhiyu stood at the doorway, holding a box in his hands.

"What is this?" she had asked at the time, her tone guarded.

"A gift." He walked over and placed the box on the vanity, "You've worked hard, Wonyoung."

"I don't want your gift." She turned her head away, but her eyes couldn't help but glance at the box.

Jiang Zhiyu smiled, didn't say anything, and turned to leave.

She sat there, confronting the box for about thirty seconds, and in the end, she couldn't resist and opened it.

Tami was lying in the box, its water-blue body glowing softly under the light, and the tiny water bottle model on its head was so exquisite that one couldn't look away.

Its body was rising and falling slightly, as if it were breathing, or perhaps waiting.

Jang Wonyoung reached out a finger and carefully touched it.

Tami immediately began to move, climbing up her finger onto her palm, rubbing against her palm, and letting out a soft, fluffy "purr."

At that moment, she felt as if her heart had been struck by something.

"I guess you have a conscience." She had whispered at the time, holding Tami as she walked out of the dressing room.

The corridor was already empty, with only her footsteps echoing.

What she didn't know was that Jiang Zhiyu was actually standing at the corner at the end of the corridor, watching her back, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.

"Tami." She had named the Lemm then, and then looked back at the empty corridor, always feeling as if someone were standing there, but she saw nothing.

She pouted and walked away quickly, holding Tami.

At this moment, Jang Wonyoung was holding Tami, burying her face into its cool and soft body, and said in a muffled voice: "Tami, do you think that pervert PD is really annoying? He could have just spoken properly, but he had to do all those messy things to torture people. An aquarius saint balancing a water bottle, what kind of bullshit idea is that..."

Tami "purred," and the water bottle on its head wobbled slightly.

"You agree with me, right?" Jang Wonyoung lifted her head, looking at it seriously, "You also think he's a pervert, right?"

Tami "purred" again, but this time it sounded like it was just humoring her.

"You..." Jang Wonyoung was about to continue her accusation when she suddenly heard familiar footsteps outside the door.

The footsteps were unhurried, carrying a sense of natural composure—it was her sister, Jang Doya.

Jang Wonyoung instinctively hugged Tami tighter, like a child clutching her most beloved toy, afraid of it being snatched away by someone else.

The door opened.

Jang Doya walked in, wearing a khaki trench coat, with a simple white T-shirt and jeans underneath, her hair draped over her shoulders, and light makeup on her face.

Her features were somewhat similar to Jang Wonyoung's, but more mature, and between her brows and eyes, there was a sense of composure and... danger peculiar to an older sister.

The kind of danger that said, "I am your older sister, so you have to listen to me."

"I'm home." Jang Doya placed her bag on the shoe cabinet in the entryway, changed into slippers, and walked into the living room.

Her gaze landed immediately on the Tami in Jang Wonyoung's arms, then moved away, swept over the empty cereal bowl on the coffee table, and finally landed on her younger sister's puffed-up face.

"Staying home for another day?" Jang Doya sat on the sofa, leaned back against the cushions, and let out a long sigh, "The weather outside is so nice, aren't you going out for a walk?"

"I don't want to go out." Jang Wonyoung tucked Tami deeper into her arms, "Of course I should stay home on my day off."

"Suit yourself." Jang Doya stretched, then her gaze drifted back to Tami, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly, "Tami—"

The alarm bells in Jang Wonyoung's heart rang loudly.

"Go to the fridge and get a glass of water for Unnie."

The Tami in Jang Wonyoung's arms moved instantly.

Its body "flowed" out of Jang Wonyoung's arms like water, slid down her arm to the sofa armrest, then landed on the floor with a "plop," and rolled toward the kitchen at an incredible speed.

That mass of water-blue soft matter rolled smoothly across the wooden floor, the little water bottle on its head maintaining balance steadily, without spilling a single drop of water.

The whole process took less than two seconds.

Jang Wonyoung looked down at her empty arms, then looked up at the direction where Tami had disappeared, her mouth puffed up like a steamed bun.

"Oh my—" Jang Doya leaned back on the sofa, resting her hands behind her head, the expression on her face could be described with the word "content," "This Tami is really more obedient than my younger sister. It does whatever it's told, never talks back, never rolls its eyes, and never says 'Unnie, you're so annoying.'"

Jang Wonyoung's cheeks puffed up even more.

"When did I ever say 'Unnie, you're so annoying' to you?"

"Last time."

"Which time?"

"The time you asked me to help you go buy tteokbokki."

"That's because you could have gone yourself! You were right downstairs!"

"But I was tired."

"What are you tired from! You didn't do anything all day!"

"Mental exhaustion is still exhaustion."

"You—!"

Jang Wonyoung was just about to explode, but Tami had already "rolled" back.

Its body was wrapped around a 500ml bottle of mineral water, fixing the water bottle in the center of its body using some kind of muscle-like contraction, and it stopped steadily at Jang Doya's feet.

Jang Doya bent down, pulled the water bottle out of Tami's body, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Tami is so good." She reached out and rubbed Tami's head; Tami let out a soft, fluffy "purr" and rubbed against her palm.

Jang Wonyoung watched this scene, her teeth grinding with a clatter.

"If I had known, I wouldn't have recorded your voice!" she finally couldn't help but shout.

She remembered the ins and outs of this matter clearly.

That day, when Jang Doya first saw Tami, her eyes lit up as if she had discovered a new continent.

She circled Tami three times, poked it again and again, squeezed it again and again, and finally said in an unquestionable tone: "Wonyoung, for this thing, let's add Unnie's voice input as well."

"Why?"

"Because I am your older sister."

"What kind of reason is that?"

"A sister's reason." Jang Doya put her hands on her hips, "What, you're not willing?"

"Not willing."

"Really not willing?"

"Really not willing."

"Asking you for the last time, are you willing or not?"

"Not willing, not willing, not willing!"

Then Jang Doya pounced over.

Even now, whenever Jang Wonyoung thinks of the miserable state of that day, she still feels itchy all over.

Her sister pinned her down on the sofa, her hands like two agile octopuses, accurately attacking the places she was most ticklish—her sides, armpits, and the back of her neck.

"Hahahaha—Unnie—hahaha—don't—hahaha hahaha—"

"Are you adding it or not?"

"Not adding—hahaha hahaha—"

"Are you adding it or not?"

"Not adding—hahahaha—help—hahaha—"

"Asking you for the last time. Are. You. Adding. It."

"...Adding."

From then on, there was one more voice in Tami's voice input AI.

"That was a threat!" Jang Wonyoung glared at Jang Doya, her cheeks puffed up like a pufferfish, "You used violence! You forced me! This is a violation of human rights!"

"Violation of human rights?" Jang Doya placed the water bottle on the coffee table and crossed her arms, "Why didn't you talk about human rights violations when you asked your sister to help you get your deliveries? Why didn't you talk about human rights violations when you asked your sister to help you cook? Why didn't you talk about human rights violations when you asked your sister to help you deal with Mom's phone calls?"

"That... that's different!"

"How is it different?"

"You are the older sister! Isn't it only right for an older sister to take care of her younger sister!"

"Oh? Then isn't it also only right for a younger sister to listen to her older sister?"

"I... you..."

[part:deepseek-chat]

Jang Wonyoung found herself caught in a logical trap—one she could never win.

That was the power of an older sister. No matter what you said, she always had a way to twist it back around and then shut you down with a single 'I'm your sister.'

She turned away in a huff, presenting her back to Jang Daya, then scooped Tami up from beside Daya's feet and hugged it tightly to her chest.

Tami let out a confused 'gurgle' in her arms, its body wriggling slightly, as if trying to decide which side to lean towards—its owner's side, or its owner's sister's side.

In the end, it chose a compromise: it gently rested its aquarius-shaped head against Jang Wonyoung's wrist, while 'extending' a small part of its body out to rest on Jang Daya's knee.

Offending neither.

Watching Tami's 'performance,' Jang Daya couldn't help but laugh.

'This Lemm is much smarter than you,' she said, patting the small, watery-blue blob on her knee. 'It knows not to offend either side.'

'It learned from me,' Jang Wonyoung mumbled, though the anger had mostly left her voice. 'That's how I usually treat you.'

'You? Not offending either side? You're just a fence-sitter.'

'What do you mean fence-sitter! I call that assessing the situation!'

'Assessing the situation? Last time Mom asked which of us shrank her silk blouse in the wash, what did you say?'

Jang Wonyoung fell silent.

'You said, 'Unnie said she wanted to try the new laundry detergent.''

'...' Jang Wonyoung buried her face in Tami's body, her voice muffled and unclear. 'Wasn't that... wasn't that what you told me to say...'

'If I told you to say it, you said it? Well, if I tell you to lend me Tami for a couple of days now, will you?'

'No!'

'See? Now you're not listening to your sister.'

'That's different!'

'How is it different?'

'That was you making me take the blame! This is you trying to take my stuff! How can they be the same!'

Looking at her younger sister's flushed face, Jang Daya couldn't resist reaching out to pinch her cheek.

'Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you.' Her tone softened, carrying the unique doting of an older sister. 'Tami is yours, no one can take it away.'

Her cheek pinched, Jang Wonyoung's words came out garbled: 'Really?'

'Really.'

'Then you can't threaten to add voice recordings anymore.'

'Okay, I won't.'

'And you can't tickle me.'

'We'll see about that one.'

'Unnie!'

'Just kidding, just kidding.' Jang Daya laughed and withdrew her hand, leaning back against the sofa. Her gaze fell on Tami, becoming thoughtful.

The living room quieted for a moment.

The sunlight outside the window slowly shifted, climbing from the floor onto the sofa, onto Jang Wonyoung's knees, casting a warm glow on Tami's watery-blue body. Tami let out a comfortable 'gurgle,' its body slowly spreading out like a cat sunbathing.

Jang Daya watched Tami, the warmth in her eyes gradually shifting—from simple affection to a more complex, somewhat calculating contemplation.

'Wonyoung-ah,' she began, her voice sounding casual.

'Hmm?'

'Lately... has President Jiang been in touch with you?'

Jang Wonyoung's fingers paused on Tami's body.

'For example...' Jang Daya's gaze moved from Tami to her sister. 'Any variety show invites, or other kinds of offers?'

The air in the living room seemed to freeze for a second.

Then—

'Don't say it!!!'

Jang Wonyoung sprang up from the sofa as if she'd been stepped on. Her movement was so abrupt that Tami was flung from her hands, tracing a watery-blue arc through the air before landing with a soft 'plop' on the single sofa opposite, letting out a wronged 'gurgle.'

Jang Wonyoung stood on the sofa, fists clenched, cheeks flushed bright red, eyes wide open—she was in a state of 'about to explode at any moment.'

Looking at her sister like this, a slight smile touched Jang Daya's lips. Her expression was so calm, it was as if she'd watched this scene a hundred times.

In fact, she had seen it many times.

Ever since the filming of 'twelve star envoys' ended, the three words 'Jiang Zhiyu' had become Jang Wonyoung's trigger. Whenever someone mentioned that name, she would react exactly like this—jump up, blush, clench her fists, shout 'Don't say it!'—the whole routine flowed smoothly, unfailing every time.

Jang Daya found this more entertaining than watching variety shows.

'Okay, okay, I won't say it, I won't say it.' She raised her hands in surrender, but the amusement in her eyes was impossible to hide. 'I was just asking casually.'

Jang Wonyoung stood on the sofa, glaring down at her sister from her high perch, chest heaving violently like a kitten with its fur puffed up.

'Not even casual questions are allowed!'

'Why?'

'Because... because...' Jang Wonyoung opened her mouth but couldn't find a suitable reason. So she lifted her chin and declared in a tone that said 'I'm being unreasonable, what are you going to do about it,' 'It's just not allowed!'

Seeing her like this, Jang Daya couldn't hold back a 'pfft' of laughter.

'What are you laughing at!' Jang Wonyoung was even more riled up.

'Nothing, nothing.' Jang Daya waved a hand, then reached over to scoop Tami from the adjacent sofa and held it in her arms. The cool, soft body of Tami made her sigh comfortably. She patted the spot beside her. 'Sit down. Don't stand up so high, you look like a child.'

'I'm not a child!'

'Then you definitely shouldn't be standing on the sofa.'

Jang Wonyoung looked down at her feet—two pale feet planted on the sofa cushion—it really wasn't very proper. She 'hmph-ed' and reluctantly sat down, but deliberately kept a person's distance from Jang Daya, crossing her arms and turning her face towards the window.

Jang Daya didn't mind. She leaned back against the sofa holding Tami, feeling the cool, soft blob wriggle slightly in her arms. Tami seemed to enjoy being held, letting out a contented 'gurgle' as its body slowly spread out like a melting jelly.

The living room fell quiet again.

Jang Daya looked down at Tami in her arms, her fingers gently stroking the delicate little aquarius on its head. The mysterious patterns on the bottle shimmered with faint iridescence in the light, so beautiful it was hard to look away.

She remembered a conversation from a dinner with a few industry friends a few days ago.

'Is your sister's Lemm really that amazing?'

'Not just amazing, it's practically a divine artifact. Do you know how many people in the industry want that thing right now?'

'Isn't it just a smart toy?'

'A smart toy? Have you ever seen a smart toy that can fetch packages, clean, and make breakfast by itself? And its AI learning ability is supposedly stronger than Samsung's... what's it called... Bixby.'

'Really?'

'Of course it's true. And the most crucial thing is—it's not for sale. Jiang Zhiyu only gives it to people he wants to give it to.'

'Wow... then your sister must have a really good relationship with Jiang Zhiyu, right?'

'Good? My sister curses him as a 'son of a bitch' whenever his name comes up.'

'Huh? Then why did he give it to her?'

'You don't get it,' her friend had said in a worldly tone. 'When a man gives you something, it's not necessarily because he likes you. But when a man is willing to put in the effort to customize something unique just for you—that definitely means you're different from others in his heart.'

Jang Daya pulled herself back from her thoughts and glanced at her sister, who was still sulking.

Jang Wonyoung had changed positions, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, hugging a cushion with her chin resting on it, staring out the window lost in thought. The sunlight illuminated her profile, softening her features—her face was still young, still carrying the youthful naivety and stubbornness unique to a teenage girl.

'Wonyoung-ah,' Jang Daya called her.

'What.' Her voice was muffled.

'You... what exactly is your relationship with President Jiang?'

Jang Wonyoung's body stiffened slightly.

'What do you mean, what relationship?' Her voice rose an octave. 'I have no relationship with him! It's just the relationship between a PD and a cast member! It's that kind of... that kind of... he's a perverted PD and I'm the victim kind of relationship!'

'Victim?'

'Yes! Victim!' Jang Wonyoung turned around, her expression one of righteous indignation. 'Unnie, you don't know what he made me do on that show! Made me balance an aquarius on my head! Made me wear those embarrassing outfits! Made me say cringey lines like 'aquarius saintess purifies evil'! And made me... made me...'

She grew more and more agitated as she spoke, her cheeks flushed red, her hands gesturing in the air as if accusing a heinous criminal.

Jang Daya listened patiently, waiting for her to finish before asking unhurriedly, 'Then what did he say when he gave you Tami?'

Jang Wonyoung's movements stopped.

'He said...' Her voice suddenly grew small. 'He said, 'You worked hard, Wonyoung.''

'And then?'

'And then... then he just left.'

'You didn't say anything?'

'I...' Jang Wonyoung pursed her lips. 'I thought he was mocking me at the time, so I ignored him.'

'And afterwards?'

'Afterwards... afterwards I just took Tami and left.'

'You didn't even send him a message to say thank you?'

Jang Wonyoung fell silent.

She buried her face in the cushion, her voice muffled. '...No.'

Looking at her sister with her face buried in the cushion, Jang Daya suddenly felt a pang of heartache.

This kid, she was still too young after all.

Seventeen years old. At an age when many kids were still worrying about exam scores, she had already been standing under the spotlight for two years. She had met too many people, experienced too many things, been praised and slandered, adored and attacked. She had learned to smile perfectly in front of cameras, to give flawless answers in interviews, to present the best version of herself to fans.

But at certain moments—like now—she would still reveal those unvarnished expressions belonging to a seventeen-year-old girl.

Stubborn, aggrieved, at a loss.

Jang Daya sighed and reached out to 'dig' her sister out from the cushion.

'Alright, stop hiding.' She ruffled Jang Wonyoung's hair. 'I'm not trying to lecture you.'

Jang Wonyoung's hair was tousled by her, but she didn't dodge, just pouted without speaking.

Seeing her like this, Jang Daya suddenly remembered something.

'Oh right,' she said. 'Have you seen today's trending searches?'

Jang Wonyoung blinked. 'What trending searches?'

'It's just...' Jang Daya pulled out her phone and swiped a few times on the screen. 'See for yourself.'

Jang Wonyoung took the phone and looked down at the screen.

'Ah, Unnie Karina's 'pig head thief' thing?' She looked up. 'I know about that. It's definitely that son of a bitch Jiang Zhiyu's doing! That incident at the Opening Ceremony caused such a stir last time, I knew he wouldn't let go of this hype. Unnie Karina is so pitiful, being used as a tool by that perverted PD...'

'Not that one.' Jang Daya interrupted her, pointing at the phone screen. 'Scroll down.'

Jang Wonyoung lowered her head to continue looking.

Then her expression changed.

From confusion to shock, from shock to disbelief, from disbelief to—anger.

'This... what is this?'

On the screen, the top spot on the trending list was clearly marked with a line of text—

#Karina Jang Wonyoung top five girls feud#

Clicking in, the contents made her scalp tingle.

'Karina's fans and Jang Wonyoung's fans are tearing each other apart on the fan forums!'

'It started when an anti-fan account called 'guardian of princess wonyoung' posted mocking Karina as 'Pig 51,' saying Jang Wonyoung is the real top five girls. Then Karina's big fan account 'Liu Zhimins Little Strawberry' retaliated, and the two sides started fighting.'

'Now the battle has spread to Twitter and TikTok. Both sides are trending hashtags, one pushing #Karina top five girls#, the other #Jang Wonyoung top five girls#. The number of participants is said to have already exceeded a hundred thousand...'

Jang Wonyoung's fingers flew across the screen, reading line after line.

The tone of the comments section made her blood pressure soar—

'That plastic-faced Karina deserves to be called top five girls? Hilarious!'

'What does Jang Wonyoung have besides being tall? She's just a wooden beauty!'

'Our Karina's fancam data is number one by a landslide, what does your Wonyoung have to compare?'

'Wonyoung was the center during IZ*ONE, what was Karina? A backup dancer?'

'Can Karina's fans stop trying to ride on others' coattails? top five girls belongs rightfully to our Wonyoung!'

'Jang Wonyoung's fans, have some shame. Your idol doesn't even have a decent solo, and you call her top five girls?'

'Ah shit—'

Jang Wonyoung threw the phone onto the sofa, threw herself back, the back of her head hitting the cushion as she let out a despairing wail.

'Ah shit—!!!'

Startled by her cry, Tami jumped up from Jang Daya's arms, spun once in the air, and landed with a 'plop' on the coffee table. The little aquarius on its head swayed three times, nearly falling off. It wrapped a small part of its body around the bottle to steady it, then let out a confused 'gurgle.'

Looking at her sister like this, a slight smile touched Jang Daya's lips again, but this time she didn't laugh out loud.

She reached out to pick up the phone, glanced at the screen, then locked it and set it aside.

So,

she said slowly,

what are you planning to do?

Jang Wonyoung lay on the sofa, hands covering her face, her voice muffled through her fingers:

What to do... It's not like I told them to fight...

I know you didn't tell them to fight.

Jang Daya said,

But are you just going to do nothing?

What can I do?

Jang Wonyoung moved her hands away from her face, revealing an expression that screamed 'life isn't worth living anymore'.

Issue a statement saying 'please don't fight, fans'? Do you think that would work?

Jang Daya thought for a moment, then shook her head.

It really wouldn't work. When it comes to fan wars, an idol speaking out often only adds fuel to the fire—both sides think, 'Our bias is being bullied, our bias spoke up, we can't back down now,' and then they fight even more fiercely.

So just leave it be?

Leave it be.

Jang Wonyoung said listlessly,

They'll quiet down in a couple of days anyway.

Jang Daya looked at her, wanting to say something but holding back.

She wanted to say something, but after thinking about it, she kept silent.

She had already guessed whose handiwork was likely behind this fight. The account 'guardian of princess wonyoung,' the account 'Liu Zhimins Little Strawberry'—one an anti-fan, one a big fan—both posting at the same time, simultaneously igniting the emotions on both sides. That kind of precise timing, that grasp of fan psychology, that predictive ability of 'I know you'll fight and it'll turn out like this'—

In the entire Korean entertainment industry, the number of people who could pull something like this off could be counted on one hand.

And among them, the one who enjoys doing this kind of thing the most is just one person.

Jang Daya glanced at her younger sister.

Jang Wonyoung was still lying on the sofa, hands covering her face, mumbling under her breath, not sure if she was cursing or praying. Tami jumped down from the coffee table, slowly crawled up to her shoulder, and gently rubbed its body against her cheek, as if comforting her.

Jang Wonyoung tilted her head and buried her face in Tami's cool, soft body, letting out a muffled 'Mmph'.

Tami-ah,

her voice was as small as a mosquito's buzz,

do you think I owed that pervert PD money in my past life...

Tami let out a soft 'purr,' the little water bottle on its head swaying gently.

Looking at this scene, Jang Daya suddenly felt like laughing.

This kid, cursing fiercely with her mouth, but when she holds Tami, that sense of dependence and reluctance is impossible to hide.

She remembered what a friend once said—

'If a man is willing to put in the effort to customize something unique for you, it definitely means you're different from others in his heart.'

What about the reverse?

If a woman treasures something a man gave her, holding it close every day, does that also mean—this man is different from others in her heart?

Jang Daya didn't voice this question out loud.

She knew her sister wouldn't admit it. Or perhaps, her sister herself hadn't even realized it yet.

But she saw it clearly.

From Jang Wonyoung's subconscious, almost instinctive, dependence when holding Tami, from her overly intense reaction whenever 'Jiang Zhiyu' was mentioned—it wasn't just simple anger. Underneath the anger was something else, that kind of twisted feeling of 'I don't want to admit it, but I actually care'.

Jang Daya sighed.

Ah, to be young.

Wonyoung-ah.

She spoke up.

Hmm?

Her voice was still muffled.

I'm a bit hungry.

Jang Daya leaned back on the sofa and patted her stomach.

Let's order takeout. What do you want to eat?

Jang Wonyoung lifted her head from Tami's body and thought for a moment:

Fried chicken?

Fried chicken again? Didn't you say last week you were going to watch your weight?

It's a rest day today...

Alright, alright, fried chicken it is. Original flavor? Or seasoned?

Half and half.

OK.

Jang Daya picked up her phone, opened the delivery app, and started browsing the menu.

Jang Wonyoung buried her face back into Tami's body, but this time she didn't close her eyes. Her gaze fell on the phone screen on the coffee table—the screen had gone dark, but the image of that trending topic was still imprinted in her mind.

#Karina Jang Wonyoung top five girls fan war#

She bit her lip.

Jiang Zhiyu.

The name circled in her mind over and over, like a piece of candy she couldn't spit out—the sweet part had already melted, leaving only a hard core stuck in her throat, impossible to swallow or spit out.

She remembered the first time she saw him. It was at the first recording for 'twelve star messengers: records of survival in the mortal realm.' He was wearing a black hoodie and a baseball cap, standing behind the monitor, his expression faint, looking like a university student on an internship.

Then he spoke.

Jang Wonyoung-ssi?

Yes.

Today's mission: balance a water bottle on your head.

...What?

Balance a water bottle on your head. You are the aquarius Saintess, the water bottle is your life-bound magical artifact. From now on, whenever you're on the filming set, you must keep this water bottle balanced on your head.

At that time, she thought she had misheard.

She hadn't misheard.

From then on, 'balancing a water bottle on her head' became her nightmare. For four hours of recording, she had to keep that damn bottle balanced, couldn't let it fall, couldn't let it tilt, couldn't use her hands to steady it. Every time it fell, she was punished with a humiliating 'purification action'—clasping her hands together, closing her eyes and chanting 'aquarius Saintess purifies evil,' then spinning in place three times.

How many times did she have to do that action?

Lost count.

How many times did she curse him in her heart back then?

Also lost count.

But looking back now—those moments cursing him, those moments when he made her stomp her feet in anger, those moments in front of the camera when she felt embarrassed and annoyed but had to do it anyway—they all seemed to have turned into some kind of... very strange memories.

Not good memories, not bad memories. The kind you know you won't forget.

Jang Wonyoung's fingers slowly traced circles on Tami's body.

Unnie.

She suddenly spoke.

Hmm?

Jang Daya was still looking at the menu.

What do you think... about Jiang Zhiyu?

Jang Daya's finger paused on the screen. She looked up at her sister.

Jang Wonyoung wasn't looking at her, still playing with Tami, her expression seeming nonchalant, but the movement of her fingers betrayed her nervousness—the frequency of her circles on Tami had noticeably increased.

Jang Daya thought for a moment and said in as neutral a tone as possible:

Don't know him well. But I've heard... he's a very capable person.

Just capable?

What else do you want to hear?

Nothing.

Jang Wonyoung's voice became even more muffled.

Just asking.

Jang Daya looked at her, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

Wonyoung-ah.

Hmm?

Are you... thinking of sending him a message?

Jang Wonyoung's fingers froze.

Her face visibly flushed, from her neck all the way to the tips of her ears, like a boiled shrimp.

Who... who wants to send him a message!

She lifted Tami to cover her face.

Why would I send a message to that pervert PD! I have nothing to say to him! Really, nothing to say! Don't just guess things!

Looking at her sister's blatantly guilty expression, Jang Daya finally couldn't hold back and let out a 'pfft' laugh.

Alright, alright, you're not thinking of it, you're not thinking of it.

She raised her hands in surrender.

I spoke out of turn.

Jang Wonyoung lowered Tami, revealing half her face, her eyes wide like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

But she didn't argue.

She just hugged Tami tighter, rested her chin on Tami's head, and looked out the window.

The sunlight outside had turned golden, casting a warm shadow on the curtains. On the distant horizon, the clouds were dyed orange-red, like a painting blurred with watercolors.

She stared at those clouds for a long time.

Then, she quietly picked up her phone, opened KakaoTalk, and scrolled to the chat window saved under the contact name '씨발 개자식 변태 K'.

The chat log still stopped at three months ago—

[Jiang Zhiyu: Wonyoung-ah, is Tami useful?]

She hadn't replied.

Not because she didn't see it, but because she saw it and didn't want to reply—or rather, didn't know what to reply.

Back then, she felt that if she replied, it would be like forgiving him for all those perverted show concepts, like admitting that Tami was really good, like... she wasn't that angry anymore.

But Tami really was good.

She really wasn't that angry anymore.

She even—sometimes wondered, without those 'perverted concepts,' would 'twelve star messengers: records of survival in the mortal realm' have been less interesting? Without those embarrassing 'aquarius Saintess' segments, would IZ*ONE's last group variety show have been less memorable?

She wouldn't admit it.

But she had indeed thought about it.

Jang Wonyoung's finger hovered over the screen. She typed a few words, deleted them, typed a few more, deleted them again.

[Did you see the trending topic?]

Delete.

[Are you stirring things up again?]

Delete.

[Is that 'guardian of princess wonyoung' account you?]

Delete.

[씨발 개자식 변태 K!!!!!!!!]

Delete.

She typed and deleted, deleted and typed, over and over, as if stuck in an unsolvable loop.

Finally, she took a deep breath, flipped her phone over on the sofa, screen facing down.

Not sending it.

She whispered, as if talking to herself.

Tami poked its head out from her arms and let out a soft 'purr'.

Jang Wonyoung looked down at it and suddenly asked:

Tami-ah, do you think... why did he really send you to me?

Tami couldn't answer that question. It just lay quietly in her palm, its water-blue body rising and falling slightly with her breath, the little water bottle on its head shimmering with faint iridescence in the light.

Jang Wonyoung stared at that little water bottle for a long time.

Then she looked up and glanced at the sky outside the window.

The autumn sky was high and distant, a few clouds drifting lazily, no different from three hours ago.

But her mood seemed to have already changed somewhat.

Forget it.

She whispered, hugging Tami a little tighter.

Not going to think about it.

The sunlight outside slowly sank westward, dyeing the entire living room a warm orange-red.

The fried chicken Jang Daya ordered arrived. When the delivery person rang the doorbell, Tami 'swished' out of Jang Wonyoung's arms, rolled to the door, wrapped its body around the doorknob, and gave it a twist—the door opened.

Tami! Delivery!

Jang Wonyoung called from the living room.

Tami bounced up from the floor, caught the delivery bag steadily, then 'rolled' back into the living room in a triumphant manner, placed the bag on the coffee table, and let out a proud 'purr'.

Watching this, Jang Daya clicked her tongue in amazement:

This Lemm really has become a spirit.

Jang Wonyoung scooped Tami up and kissed the top of its head:

Of course, my Tami is the best.

Tami seemed a bit dazed from the kiss, letting out a muddled 'purr,' the little water bottle on its head swaying.

Jang Daya opened the fried chicken box, and the aroma immediately filled the living room.

Here, eat.

She handed her sister a piece of seasoned fried chicken.

Jang Wonyoung took it, took a bite, her cheeks puffed out, chewing like a little hamster.

Jang Daya looked at her and suddenly said:

Wonyoung-ah.

Hmm?

Her mouth still full of fried chicken, her voice muffled.

No matter what's going on with that trending topic,

Jang Daya's voice softened,

just remember one thing.

Jang Wonyoung blinked, waiting for her to continue.

You are the best.

Jang Wonyoung was stunned for a moment, then smiled.

The smile was light and faint, like autumn sunlight—not scorching, but warm.

I know.

She said.

Then she lowered her head and continued munching on her fried chicken.

Tami lay on her lap, let out a contented 'purr,' and slowly closed its eyes—if that soft, formless thing even had eyes.

The sunset outside slowly set, the city lights flickering on one by one.

This rest day passed just like that.

And that message that was never sent still lay quietly in her phone, screen facing down, forgotten in the crevice of the sofa.

At least, that's what she told herself.