"We don't have time to think, Siwon," Jinam snapped. "If this blows up any further, it'll be out of our hands—and the cops will step over, and there's gonna be chaos. We've got two days, tops." Then he turned to me, hands on his hips. "And you. While I'm busy fixing this PR crap with Daejong and the board, you better cooperate. No stunts, no interviews, no fucking drama. If a reporter asks, you say nothing. Got it?"
"For once, I'll take your advice," I said flatly.
"Good. And remember—my house is your house. But there's one rule. If you break or mess up anything, you pay double. The housekeepers have suffered enough already," Jinam said as he led us inside.
The interior was a strange blend of modern luxury and traditional Chinese flair—crystal red lanterns, ink paintings of a city on an island named Yueguang, and a towering glass room displaying a golden statue of Caishen, god of wealth.
"It reminds him of home," Tanny's voice came from behind me, making me jump.
"Jesus—thought you were a ghost," I muttered.
He laughed softly. "Didn't mean to scare you." His eyes lingered on one of the paintings. "You know, I've been thinking… maybe being an idol isn't for me."
"What would you rather be?" I asked.
"A teacher," he said after a pause. "My mom once told me—if you want something better, you might have to give up something good. But I still want to teach kids someday."
"Being an idol isn't good enough?" I frowned.
"It's not that," he said quietly. "I'm just scared. Scared like Moon is. I don't want to be the reason we all fall apart. So if there's anything I can do now, it's to face what's coming—with you guys." Tears gathered in his left eye, and he removed his glasses to wipe them away. "Sorry. Not the time for drama."
"Don't worry," I said. "We'll get through this. Soon, you'll see."
He smiled faintly. "I'll go set up whatever you guys need."
"You've been here before?" I asked.
"Three times," he said, heading down the hall. "And every time, it's either a crisis or a meeting from hell. Make yourself at home—by Jinam's definition, anyway."
I wandered alone through the corridors, studying a series of portraits showing a baby growing into a young man. Each face shifted subtly—from innocent joy to stoic resolve. Wealth did strange things to taste, I thought, wiping the sweat from my brow. The heat was getting unbearable, so I made my way to the bathroom.
The place was sleek, modern—complete with a steaming jacuzzi already filled to the brim.
"Guess rich people know how to live," I muttered, testing the water before slipping in. The warmth hit like relief. "Ahh…"
I'd barely started to relax when bubbles rose from the far end of the tub. Blub.
"Huh?" I leaned forward—then water splashed straight into my face as a blue-haired figure emerged from below.
"Holy, what the hell?!" I yelled.
Lucky brushed his wet hair back. "I just remembered something. A story Boa once told me."
I blinked, heart still racing. "Wh—what story? That weird tower fairytale?"
"When I knew her," Lucky said, "she told me a tale. About a prince who fell in love with a long-haired princess dressed in black, imprisoned beneath a tower surrounded by thorns and beasts. The prince led an army to rescue her—but was fatally wounded before her eyes. In the end, she wrapped his body in her hair, carried him to the tower, and scattered roses as they held his funeral."
"So… the 'roses over the tower,' that's from the story?" I said, trying to follow. "Sounds like some wicked version of Rapunzel."
"In the story," Lucky continued, "there are three characters: the princess, the prince, and the royal guard."
I pieced it together. "If I'm the prince, and she's the princess… then the guard must be—"
"Her pawn," Lucky said. "The one she uses to reach the tower. And that tower—might be OPP4 itself. Her game's starting to make sense."
Then it clicked. I remembered what one of the staff had said days ago: Maybe ChonJia did the right thing, huh?
"Wait," I said slowly. "What if someone inside the company's been feeding her info all along?"
Lucky's eyes widened. "If she didn't need money, that means she could afford to buy someone inside OPP4."
"A mole," I said grimly.
-To Be Continued-
Chapter 17 : My Perfect Weapon