48: Chapter 48 The King (The Glutton?) Returns!

Park Jin-young's dancing skills were strong. Not just ordinarily strong.

Lee Tima stood in front of the mirror, watching Park Jin-young perform a wave to the chorus of "love declaration."

The wave started from his shoulders, passed through his chest and abdomen, reached his hips, and then bounced back to his shoulders.

The movement was fluid, so fluid it was like a snake swimming in water.

His body control was excellent, so excellent that Lee Tima felt he wasn't just dancing, but interpreting the music with his body.

Every joint was on the beat, every muscle was in the melody.

She knew this wasn't innate; it was practiced.

Practiced for many years, practiced until the body remembered the trajectory of every movement, practiced until the muscles could react automatically without the brain's command.

Lee Tima herself was not an idol who could create choreography; she could only copy what she saw.

Whatever move she saw, she would imitate it. She imitated it well, but it was just "like."

It lacked soul, lacked her own understanding, lacked that sense of inevitability that "this move must be mine."

Because she wasn't a pure idol; she was more like a singer.

Her weapon was her voice, not her body. Her stage was the recording studio, not the practice room. Her way of expression was melody, not dance.

She knew what she was good at and what she wasn't. She wouldn't waste time on things she wasn't good at. So when Park Jin-young finished dancing, she didn't applaud.

She was just watching. Watching his wave, watching his footwork, watching his hand movements.

Every one of his movements carried a lightness that didn't belong to his age.

A person in his fifties, yet his body was like that of a twenty-year-old. It wasn't "well-maintained," it was "never stopped practicing."

He danced every day; he danced before his debut, he danced after his debut, and he was still dancing after becoming President.

Dancing for him wasn't work; it was instinct. Just like songwriting was an instinct for Lee Tima.

They were both doing what they were good at, doing it very well, which was why they could sit there. It wasn't because of luck; it was because they never gave up.

The nine members of TWICE had different reactions after Park Jin-young finished dancing.

Momo was the first to applaud, and her applause was loud, loud enough to echo in the practice room.

It wasn't because she was Japanese and therefore polite; it was because she understood. She understood the difficulty of each of his movements, understood the precision of his body control, and understood why he could still perform movements of a twenty-year-old at fifty-plus. Because she was doing the same thing.

Sana and Kim Da-hyun took a blank sheet of paper and rushed in front of Park Jin-young like two fanatical fans, holding the paper high and handing over a pen quickly. "President, please sign!"

Park Jin-young looked at the blank paper and was silent for a moment. "Where do you want me to sign?" "On the paper." "And after you sign it?" "Collect it." "Why collect it?" "Because you are the President of JYP."

Park Jin-young took the pen and signed his name on the blank paper. The handwriting was messy, like a snake crawling.

Sana held the paper up to the light and looked at it for a long time. "I have to frame it." Kim Da-hyun nodded. "I'm going to hang it by my bedside."

Jihyo watched them from the side, silently walked over to Jeongyeon, and lowered her voice, "Did they take the wrong medicine?" Jeongyeon said, "No, they're just bored." Jihyo thought about it and felt Jeongyeon was right.

Im Nayeon looked at Kim Da-hyun's smug face, which was written with "I got the President's autograph," and remembered a long-circulating rumor. Dahyun wanted to become a JYP director.

Not just "want," but "want." She had said it many times, and every time her tone was very serious, so serious that it didn't seem like a joke. Im Nayeon couldn't help but retort. "Dahyun, do you want to become a JYP director?"

Kim Da-hyun turned back to look at Im Nayeon and blinked. Her expression changed from "smug" to "serious," and from "serious" to "determined."

No one could stop her; not time, not age, not seniority, not ability. As long as she was at JYP for one day, she would work towards this goal for that day.

Working hard until the day she became a director, working hard until she could slam the table at a board meeting and say, "I don't think this plan works," working hard until she could sign her own name at the year-end settlement. Her name was Kim Da-hyun, not Director Kim, but one day it would be.

"I just want a solo." Her tone was very flat, so flat it was like saying "The weather is nice today." But Im Nayeon knew this sentence wasn't like "The weather is nice today"; it was "I've been waiting for a long time."

Waiting since debut, waiting until now. Waiting for a song, waiting for a stage, waiting for a moment that belonged to her. She didn't know when that moment would come, but she was still waiting.

Im Nayeon's face turned green. Not "green," but "pale." Pale like an unripe orange. She looked at Park Jin-young, her eyes full of resentment, that kind of resentment of "you owe me a solo," that kind of resentment of "you've drawn many pictures, but I haven't eaten a single one," that kind of resentment of "why can't you see me."

Since her debut, she hadn't had a single solo, but she had many promises. Every time they had a meeting, Park Jin-young would say, "Nayeon, let's discuss your solo again." They had been discussing it for a long time, always discussing. Discussing until Momo released a solo, discussing until Jihyo released a solo, discussing until Chaeyoung released a solo, discussing until Tzuyu released a solo. Her solo was still being discussed. She didn't want to discuss it anymore; she just wanted to sing. But she didn't say it; she just looked at Park Jin-young. Watching him pretend not to see.

Park Jin-young pretended not to see. He moved his gaze away from Im Nayeon's face, not "moving away" but "fleeing." He was afraid that if he looked again, he would soften his heart, and if he softened his heart, he would agree, and if he agreed, he would have to deliver, and if he delivered, he would have to spend time, energy, and money.

He didn't want to spend time because he had no time. He didn't want to spend energy because his energy was limited. He didn't want to spend money because he wanted to spend money on new groups. So he pretended not to see, his gaze falling on Lee Tima, his mouth curling up into an expression of "How is it, not bad, right?"

Lee Tima thought about it, thought for a long time. She organized her words in her mind, all those "President, your dance is indeed very good, but," "I think there are a few places that can be improved," "Do you know where your problem is?" She thought through all possible openings and then chose the most direct one. Her tone was very serious, so serious that it was like she was talking about something very important.

"Jin-young Oppa, have you ever thought about wearing a mask?"

The practice room went quiet. Park Jin-young's smile froze, not "disappeared" but "fixed." Fixed on his face, fixed on the corners of his mouth, fixed in that moment of "Did I hear that wrong?"

He was silent, silent for a long time. Lee Tima looked at him, the nine members of TWICE looked at him, everyone in the practice room was looking at him. His brain was running at high speed— "What does that mean? Saying I'm ugly?"

He indeed wasn't good-looking, and he knew it himself. He knew it since his debut, and even more so after becoming President. Some people online called him "Gorilla," some called him "Park Gorilla," and some called him "JYP Gorilla." He didn't care because his talent was worth more than his face. But not caring is one thing, and having others say it is another. You can call yourself a gorilla in your heart, but you don't want to hear others say it. This is human nature, unrelated to talent.

Park Jin-young took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. His expression changed from "frozen" to "calm," and from "calm" to "accepting." "I will seriously consider your suggestion."

Wearing a mask, wearing a mask to dance. He thought about that image and found it quite funny. He smiled, not "smiling," but "self-deprecating."

Lee Tima nodded. "Then let's start working." She didn't ask again, "Will you really wear it?" because she knew he was just saying it.

Just like Im Nayeon's solo, just like Kim Da-hyun's director dream, just like everyone who says "I'll consider it," actually, they have already decided "I won't." They just don't want to hurt you, so they didn't directly refuse.

She had grown up, not "grown," but "understood." Understood many things she didn't understand before, understood that in the adult world, "I'll consider it" equals "won't," understood that "we'll talk about it next time" equals "there is no next time," understood that "you are very excellent" equals "you are not what I want." She understood, so she didn't ask again.

Park Jin-young left the video USB drive in the practice room. The USB drive was small, black, with a white label on it that read "love declaration Dance Version."

He placed the USB drive on the table, pressed it with his finger, and pushed it over to Lee Tima. Lee Tima looked down at the USB drive, didn't take it, and looked up at Park Jin-young. Park Jin-young had already walked to the door, his hand on the doorknob, not turning back.

"I am busy with official business and cannot guest star as a dance teacher. You practice by yourselves." The door opened, and he walked out. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded in the hallway, absorbed by the walls, and drowned out by the buzzing of the air conditioning vent.

Lee Tima looked at the closed door and was silent for a moment. Then she picked up the USB drive on the table and held it in her palm; the USB drive was small but heavy, so heavy that her fingers were trembling. Not "heavy," but "trust."

He left the USB drive here, not because he was busy with official business, but because he trusted them. Trusted that TWICE could practice well on their own, trusted that they didn't need him to watch them every day, trusted that they were already independent artists.

This kind of trust wasn't built in a day; it was nine years. In nine years, they grew from rookies who knew nothing into seniors who could now practice dancing on their own without a teacher watching them. He saw it, so he let go.

Lee Tima held the USB drive up to her eyes and looked at it against the light. The black plastic shell reflected a faint light under the lamp; she couldn't see the content inside the USB drive, but she knew it was there.

There was Park Jin-young's wave, his footwork, his hand movements. There was his sweat, his muscle memory, the epitome of his fifty-plus years of life. She put the USB drive into her pocket, zipped it up, and patted it to make sure it wouldn't fall out. Then she turned around to look at the nine members of TWICE.

"Let's begin."

——

The list for the pre-debut group was announced on a Thursday afternoon. When Karina saw her name, her finger paused on the screen. Not "paused," but "trembled." It trembled for a moment, and then she continued to scroll down.

Kim Minjeong, NingNing, Uchinaga Eri. Four names, neatly lined up on the phone screen, like a train waiting to depart. She didn't know where this train was going, she only knew that she was getting on board.

The move was two days later. Moving from the trainee dormitory to a more luxurious apartment. It was said to be luxurious, but actually, it was just a bit bigger, a bit newer, and a bit closer to the company.

Four bedrooms and one living room; everyone had their own room. The living room was large, large enough to fit a long table and a set of sofas. The kitchen was also large, large enough for four people to stand in without being crowded. The refrigerator was new, the washing machine was new, and the air conditioning was new. Everything was new. Even the roommates were new.

Karina and Uchinaga Eri lived in one room. It wasn't by drawing lots; it was assigned. The company said, "Karina is the leader, and the leader needs to take care of the new members," and Karina didn't refute it. She looked at Uchinaga Eri, and Uchinaga Eri looked at her. The two stood at the doorway of the room, separated by the distance of a suitcase.

"Please take care of me." Uchinaga Eri's Korean was still very stiff, her pronunciation was not standard, and her tone was not accurate, but her tone was very sincere. Karina nodded. "Please take care of me."

They put away their luggage, made their beds, and hung their clothes in the wardrobe. Then they each sat on their own bed and were silent for a long time. Someone was scrolling through their phone, someone wanted to speak but was embarrassed to start, someone was looking out the window thinking about something, and someone was waiting for the other to speak first. No one spoke.

Their relationship still wasn't quite intimate.

Not "not close," just "not yet close."

Getting close takes time, the time hadn't arrived yet, so they weren't close yet.

Karina wasn't in a rush; she trusted time.

The group chat was exploding.

The group name "The Four of Us" had been changed by Ningning to "Pre-debut Group," Kim Minjeong sent a "confetti" sticker, Karina sent a "clapping" one, and Ningning sent a "fighting" one.

Uchinaga Eri wasn't in this group because she hadn't been added yet.

It wasn't that they didn't want to add her, it was just that there hadn't been an opportunity.

The four met in the practice room but not in the group chat; the content of their chats always stayed at "What time is practice tomorrow?" "What are we eating for lunch?" "I'm so tired today."

No one talked about "Where did you grow up?" "What's your favorite color?" "Are you afraid of ghosts?"

They hadn't reached that stage yet.

Kim Minjeong's message arrived on a Friday night.

She typed a long paragraph, deleted it, typed it again, deleted it, and finally, only one line remained.

Very simple, very direct, very much her style.

"Oppa, you invited Ji-min Unnie to eat alone last time, why didn't you invite me and Ningning? I'm jealous."

It was followed by a crying emoji, teary-eyed, mouth turned down, looking aggrieved.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't reply, just "read."

Kim Minjeong looked at the word "read," waited a long time, waited a very long time, but he still didn't reply, so she sent another message in the group.

"Oppa read it and didn't reply."

Ningning turned her head to look at Kim Minjeong and chimed in.

"The teacher is biased."

Her tone was very flat, so flat it was like saying "The weather is nice today," but her subtext was "I'm jealous too."

The two sang in harmony, like performing a crosstalk act.

One was responsible for being aggrieved, the other for accusing, their coordination so tacit that it made one suspect they had rehearsed.

When Karina saw the message, her cheeks turned bright red.

Lying on the bed with her phone held in front of her, the screen light shone on her face, making her blush even more obvious.

She remembered the scene of eating at Jiang Zhiyu's house that day—she sat at the dining table, a bowl of rice, a pair of chopsticks, and a spoon in front of her.

Braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, tomato scrambled eggs, seaweed egg soup, all things she loved to eat.

Not "loved to eat," but "couldn't stop eating once she started."

She picked up a piece of braised pork and put it in her mouth; the meat melted.

The fat wasn't greasy, the lean meat wasn't dry, the salty-sweetness of the sauce was just right, and the flavor of the spices had seeped into every fiber of the meat.

She chewed twice and swallowed, then picked up another piece, then another, then another.

Her chopsticks hadn't stopped, her mouth hadn't stopped, and the chewing action hadn't stopped.

She didn't know how much she had eaten; she only knew she had swept through more than half of the dishes on the table.

By the time she came to her senses, the plates were already empty.

Her face turned even redder.

She put down her phone and covered her face.

It wasn't because Kim Minjeong said she was "eating alone," but because she was thinking—about the look in his eyes at that time.

She looked at him while eating, and he was looking at her too.

There was a lot in his gaze, so complicated that she dared not delve into it.

Not "didn't understand," but "dared not look," because if she looked, she would think, and if she thought, she wouldn't be able to sleep, and if she couldn't sleep, she would toss and turn in bed.

When tossing and turning, she would think of him; when thinking of him, her heartbeat would accelerate; when her heartbeat accelerated, she would wonder if she was sick.

She wasn't sick; she just dared not delve into it.

Kim Minjeong sent another message.

"Not bringing Ji-min Unnie this time."

Followed by a "hmpf."

Ningning sent an "agreeing" sticker, two kittens giving a thumbs up, with "I agree" smiles on their faces.

The two of them had excluded themselves on their own accord.

Karina saw it, and Karina felt her face burning even more, but she couldn't say anything because she had indeed eaten alone with Jiang Zhiyu.

If she spoke in the group again, it would be showing off, and showing off gets you beaten, and she didn't want to get beaten, so she remained silent.

But she couldn't help but run to Kim Minjeong and Ningning's room.

When she pushed the door open, Kim Minjeong was lying on the bed scrolling through her phone, and Ningning was sitting on the carpet eating potato chips.

The two looked up at the same time when she entered.

Kim Minjeong's mouth opened as if to say something, and Ningning's hand stopped in mid-air with the chip not yet reaching her mouth.

Karina didn't give them a chance to speak.

She pounced on Kim Minjeong, pinning her down, and Kim Minjeong let out a muffled grunt.

She reached out to tickle Ningning, and Ningning laughed and dodged, scattering potato chips all over the floor.

Laughter exploded in the room, rolling from the bed to the floor, from the floor to the corner of the wall.

Kim Minjeong's hair was disheveled, Ningning's face was flushed, and Karina's pajamas were crooked.

The three of them were a mess, like three kittens playing around.

No one remembered that they had just been jealous, no one remembered that they had just been chiming in, and no one remembered that they had just been "isolating" Karina.

They were just laughing together, laughing until they couldn't breathe, laughing until their stomachs hurt, laughing until they forgot they had to practice tomorrow.

After the commotion, Kim Minjeong lay on the bed panting, and Ningning leaned next to her.

Karina sat cross-legged on the carpet, her hair a bird's nest, and the collar of her pajamas crooked, revealing half her collarbone.

They were silent for a moment.

"How about we go to Oppa's house for dinner together?" Ningning said, looking at Karina.

Karina looked at Kim Minjeong.

The three exchanged glances and nodded.

Kim Minjeong picked up her phone to text Jiang Zhiyu.

This time it wasn't "You're biased," but "Oppa, let's go to your house for dinner tomorrow."

Jiang Zhiyu's reply was faster than last time, not "read," but "Okay."

One word, crisp and decisive, without hesitation.

Kim Minjeong held her phone high in the air, like holding up a flag of victory.

"Oppa agreed!"

Ningning leaned in to check the screen to confirm it was the word "Okay," then breathed a sigh of relief.

Karina also breathed a sigh of relief; she didn't know why she breathed a sigh of relief, she only knew she didn't want to be excluded.

Didn't want to be excluded from "them," and didn't want to be excluded from "him."

She wanted to be in "them," and also wanted to be in "him."

She wanted to belong to both worlds simultaneously, to be accepted by both.

Jiang Zhiyu sent another message.

"Is Eri coming too?"

Karina's smile froze.

Kim Minjeong's smile froze, and Ningning's smile froze too.

Looking at that line on the screen was like looking at a wall that had suddenly appeared.

The wall wasn't high, but they didn't want to climb it.

They didn't want to take Eri to Jiang Zhiyu's house.

Not "didn't want to," but "not ready yet."

They weren't ready to share that place with a fourth person.

That place was theirs, Jiang Zhiyu's kitchen was theirs, the braised pork Jiang Zhiyu cooked was theirs, and the smile on Jiang Zhiyu's face when he watched them eat was theirs.

They didn't want to share it with others, but they couldn't say that.

Karina wanted to say "No," but she couldn't say it, because she knew that wasn't right.

Leaving a member alone at home while the other three went out for dinner—if you said it out loud, it was like bullying; no, it wasn't like bullying, it was bullying.

She didn't want to bully anyone, she just wanted Eri to go to the cafeteria to eat by herself.

Kim Minjeong spoke up.

"How about I go find Oppa to discuss it first!"

She stood up, patted the dust off her pants, and walked toward the door.

Ningning immediately sprang up from the carpet.

"Why, I want to go too!"

Her voice was loud, loud enough to echo in the hallway.

Kim Minjeong turned around, hands on her hips, eyes wide, mouth slightly pouting.

"Yah, Ningning, the risk is smaller with one person!"

"Then why is it you and not me?"

"Because I suggested it first!"

"Just because you suggested it means you get to go? What kind of logic is that?"

"This is the logic of an Unnie!"

Ningning took a deep breath, hands also on her hips, chin slightly raised, looking straight at Kim Minjeong.

Karina looked at the two younger ones with their hands on their hips, staring at each other, and felt like she had opened a kindergarten.

"Then I'll go find the teacher, Minjeong Unnie, you wait at home for news."

Seeing Ningning deliberately trying to oppose her, Kim Minjeong put her hands on her hips and was about to start an argument.

"Why do you get to go find Oppa? It was my suggestion first!"

"Just because you suggested it, you have to be the one to go? I also suggested we go to Jeju Island to play, did we go?"

"That's because you didn't go!"

"That's because you didn't arrange the itinerary!"

"I did arrange it!"

"You arranged for three days and two nights, but we only have two days of vacation!"

"We can go to Jeju Island in two days!"

"It takes a day just to travel back and forth! What can we do with the remaining day?"

"We can play in Jeju Island!"

"You—!"

Karina stopped the two of them.

She stood in the middle, pressing her left hand on Kim Minjeong's shoulder and her right hand on Ningning's shoulder.

They were still roommates, after all—Karina shouted in her heart, not "shouted," but "sighed."

"Alright, alright..."

Kim Minjeong and Ningning looked at her at the same time.

Kim Minjeong's eyes lit up.

"Unnie, do you want to go find Oppa too?"

Karina's face turned red, spreading from the root of her neck all the way up, red to the tips of her ears, red to her hairline.

Saying she was angry wasn't because she was angry, but because she had been hit on the mark.

She did want to go find Jiang Zhiyu, not for any reason, just because she wanted to see him.

Her voice raised.

"No!"

The corners of Ningning's mouth slowly curled up.

"Oh~ Ji-min Unnie, you're blushing."

Those eyes curved into crescent moons, and in her pupils reflected Karina's flushed face.

She didn't speak, just smiled, smiling until Karina turned even redder.

Karina gritted her teeth.

She took several deep breaths; she took deep breaths because she needed to calm down, she needed to calm down because she couldn't get angry at Ningning, and she couldn't get angry because Ningning had just told the truth.

Not "the truth," but "what she thought was the truth."

Karina didn't know if what she thought was correct, because she didn't even know why she was blushing herself.

"Minjeong, you go, we'll start a video call to discuss it."

Her voice wasn't loud but very clear.

Kim Minjeong smiled and saluted, her arm straight, palm facing out, her movement as standard as a soldier at a military parade.

"Okay, Unnie~"

She turned and walked out of the room, her footsteps gradually fading in the hallway, disappearing in the direction of the elevator.

Kim Minjeong left, and the room quieted down.

Ningning sat on the carpet, picked up a potato chip, put it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

Karina stood at the door, looking at Kim Minjeong's empty bed for a moment, and then she heard Ningning's voice.

"Ji-min Unnie, why don't we just start a video chat? Why does Minjeong Unnie have to go? It feels like we're ancient people."

Karina froze.

She opened her mouth to say "I didn't think of that," but she couldn't speak because the words "didn't think of that" were too light.

Light like a feather, a feather falling on the water surface without even creating a ripple.

It wasn't "didn't think of that," it was "didn't use my brain."

Kim Minjeong said she was going to find Jiang Zhiyu, so she let her go.

She hadn't thought about video calling, hadn't thought about calling, hadn't thought about texting.

She hadn't thought about anything; she just let her go.

Karina covered her head and flopped onto Kim Minjeong's bed.

The sheets were soft, the pillow was soft.

She buried her face in the pillow, making a muffled sound, as if suppressed by something.

"Ah—! Am I an idiot—"

Ningning watched Karina rolling on Kim Minjeong's bed, silently and slowly nodding.

Not "nodding," but "confirming."

Confirming she was an idiot; "idiot" wasn't an insult, it was stating a fact.

Facts don't need to be forgiven; facts only need to be accepted.

She accepted it, so she nodded.