22: Chapter 22 Sweet Torture

The final note of the piano version of "into the new world" slowly dissipated within the car, its lingering resonance blending with the bustling streetscapes of Gangnam District flowing past the window, like an unreal dream.

In the back seat, the members of Girls Generation remained immersed in complex emotions; some were still shedding silent tears, some were staring blankly out the window, and some were clutching their backpacks tightly. No one spoke; there was only the low hum of the car engine and the occasional roar of other vehicles speeding by.

The car finally drove into a quiet, heavily secured Villa area, stopping in front of a three-story, modern-style detached building.

The building's lines were simple and fluid, with clean, off-white exterior walls and large floor-to-ceiling windows. The yard featured meticulously manicured lawns and a few ornamental trees. Compared to the crowded, oppressive S.M. Entertainment dormitory they had just left, this place felt like another world.

The moving truck arrived shortly after. The workers began unloading the cargo efficiently. Song Tianhao stepped out of the car first and gestured for the girls to follow him inside.

Walking inside the Villa, they were met with bright lighting, an open, high-ceilinged living room, polished marble floors, and minimalist, well-designed furniture. The air was filled with a faint, comforting woody scent. Everything was so new, spacious, and bright that it felt surreal.

"The first floor has the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Over there is the public lounge area and a small media room."

Song Tianhao gave a brief introduction as he walked, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious living room. "The second and third floors are your rooms. Each of you gets one, with an en-suite bathroom. The room sizes and orientations are basically the same. You can add interior decorations slowly according to your own preferences; the company will reimburse you."

He pointed to an area extending from the side of the living room, separated by soundproof glass walls. "That is a professional-grade practice room. The mirrors, barre, and audio equipment are all top-tier. There is also a small recording studio next to it with excellent soundproofing that you can use at any time."

He pointed to the other side. "That is the gym. It has complete equipment and a professional stretching and relaxation area. The basement level is the storage room and staff lounge."

He turned around, looked at the nine girls standing in the center of the bright, spacious living room, looking somewhat at a loss as if they had stumbled into a luxury hotel, and continued, "A nanny and a chef have already been hired to handle daily cleaning and meals. Security is 24/7, so you can rest assured about your privacy."

The girls looked at each other, almost unable to believe their ears. Individual bedrooms? A professional practice room and recording studio? A private chef and nanny?

This kind of treatment was something they dared not even dream of as trainees or in their early debut days at S.M. Entertainment. Even now, with some popularity from "Gee," they were far from deserving such a setup in S.M. Entertainment's plans. This wasn't just a dormitory; it was... paradise.

However, the "move-in requirements" for paradise arrived quickly.

After everyone had gathered, Song Tianhao gestured for everyone to sit at the long table in the spacious dining room. The table was empty, but soon, a new dormitory manager dressed in proper attire—a middle-aged woman with a gentle smile—brought in hot tea and fruit juice with the help of several assistants.

Song Tianhao did not sit down. He stood at the head of the table, resting his hands on the polished surface, his gaze sweeping calmly over the nine young but visibly exhausted faces. He didn't waste any words and announced directly:

"From today on, there are three rules that must be followed here."

The girls instantly straightened their backs, their expressions becoming tense and focused. It's here, they thought—the new president's "rules." Would it be even stricter training hours than S.M. Entertainment? More insane body management? More grueling schedules?

Song Tianhao held up one finger.

"First, any form of voluntary dieting, fasting, induced vomiting, or other behaviors that harm the body is prohibited. The company will provide you with professional nutritionists. You must finish your three daily meals and snacks according to the nutritionist's menu. Food is fuel, not the enemy."

The girls were stunned. Prohibited from dieting? Must finish the food? What... what kind of rule is this? Aren't idols supposed to desperately lose weight to maintain their figures?

He held up a second finger.

"Second, you must ensure no less than seven hours of continuous sleep every day. Unless there are special circumstances, you must rest by 1:00 AM at the latest. I will have the manager conduct room checks. Sufficient sleep is the foundation of your condition and health; sharpening the axe never delays the woodcutting."

Ensure sleep? And room checks? The girls were even more bewildered. At S.M. Entertainment, overnight practice and running schedules until the early morning were daily routines; sleep was a luxury.

He held up a third finger.

"Third, you must attend a professional counseling session arranged by the company once a week, either one-on-one or in a group. If you don't want to talk, you can just sit and listen, but you must be present. Mental state is just as important as physical health."

Counseling? Idols seeing a psychologist? While not new in the industry, it was usually forced only after problems arose. A mandatory, weekly requirement like this was almost unheard of.

The three rules were announced, and the dining room fell into silence. The girls' expressions shifted from tension to confusion, and then to disbelief.

There was no grueling training schedule as imagined, no weight warnings, no pressure from schedules... instead, they were forced to eat well, sleep well, and pay attention to their mental health?

This was too abnormal. So abnormal that it made them feel uneasy.

Jessica Jung was the first to break the silence. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, a faint, skeptical sneer appearing on her cool face. Her voice was exceptionally clear in the quiet dining room:

"President,"

She paused, looking sharply at Song Tianhao.

"We signed an artist contract, not a vacation or sanitarium contract. You brought us here and set these rules..." Her gaze swept across the spacious and bright dining room, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. "We are here to work, not to vacation and enjoy ourselves."

This voiced the inner thoughts of some of the members. Accustomed to the high-pressure environment of S.M. Entertainment, their first reaction to this sudden "kindness" was not gratitude, but wariness and discomfort.

There is no such thing as a free lunch, especially for "trouble" bought for 50 billion won. How could it just be for them to eat and sleep?

Song Tianhao met Jessica Jung's scrutinizing and provocative gaze. There was not the slightest hint of offense on his face; instead, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You are right," he admitted calmly.

Just as a flash of "I knew it" realization crossed Jessica Jung's eyes, Song Tianhao's next sentence left everyone stunned again.

"This is not The Resort," his voice was steady but carried a resolute power. "This is a military camp. You are here to go to war."

His gaze slowly swept over every face.

"Your opponents are the shadows of the past, the prejudices of the outside world, the Black Ocean that has yet to fully dissipate, and those empty seats at Jamsil next year waiting for you to fill them."

"And in war," he paused, his tone deepening, "what is the most fundamental condition?"

He didn't need them to answer; he provided the answer himself, his gaze burning like a torch:

"It is that soldiers must be well-fed, well-rested, and psychologically stable. Soldiers who are starving, unable to keep their eyes open, and filled with fear will only face death on the battlefield."

"I want you to fight a protracted war, a battle to reach the summit. I am not having you act as disposable cannon fodder. Therefore, the first military rule is to nurture your bodies and mental states for me. This is an order, not a negotiation."

His words elevated the act of "eating and sleeping well" to the level of "strategic reserves." It wasn't about enjoying life; it was about fighting more effectively. This perspective shook the hearts of the girls who had originally felt awkward and uneasy.

Just then, dinner was ready. A female nutritionist, who looked to be in her forties with a capable demeanor, gently directed her assistants as they brought steaming, aromatic dishes to the long table.

It wasn't the salad, chicken breast, or boiled vegetables they had imagined, but an astonishingly sumptuous Korean beef hot pot!

Thick slices of top-grade Korean beef curled slightly in the boiling broth. Beside it were various fresh vegetables, mushrooms, tofu, glass noodles, several exquisite Korean side dishes, and a large pot of steaming mixed-grain rice. The aroma of the food instantly filled the air, stimulating everyone's taste buds.

The girls looked at the table full of food and swallowed involuntarily, but their bodies became even more rigid. The conditioned reflex formed by long-term dieting made them feel intense guilt and fear. So much meat, so many carbohydrates... they would get fat, absolutely fat.

The youngest, Seohyun, sat not far from Song Tianhao. She looked at the boiling hot pot in front of her, her hand subconsciously beginning to calculate calories. Her brows furrowed slightly, and her hand holding the chopsticks hesitated, never daring to reach out.

She was the most disciplined and had executed S.M. Entertainment's management style the most thoroughly. This "feast" was, to her, nothing less than sweet torture.

Song Tianhao noticed her hesitation. He didn't say anything, simply picked up the serving chopsticks, lifted a large, perfectly cooked slice of Korean beef with evenly distributed marbling from the boiling pot, and placed it onto the plate in front of Seohyun.

"Eat," he said only one word. His tone was flat but brooked no refusal.

Seohyun was startled. Looking at the tempting yet "sinful" piece of meat on her plate, her face turned red instantly, and she murmured softly, "President, I... I'll just eat a little bit of vegetables..."

"Finish this piece of meat," Song Tianhao interrupted her, looking at her with a calm gaze. "And the vegetables, tofu, glass noodles, and rice—you must eat everything. This is the portion calculated by the nutritionist; you must finish it."

He paused and added one more sentence. His voice was not loud, but it made Seohyun and the other members listening nearby tremble:

"Finish it. Otherwise, there will be two hours of extra physical training tonight. I mean what I say."

"Extra training? Because I didn't finish my meal? This is simply an unheard-of 'punishment'!"

Seohyun's face turned even redder, and her eyes rimmed with red, whether from grievance or something else, she couldn't tell. But she didn't dare disobey. She could only pick up that piece of meat with trembling hands, taking small bites, starting to eat as if she were completing a daunting task.

The meat juices burst in her mouth, the long-lost deliciousness instantly conquering her taste buds, making her almost want to sigh, but the guilt that followed made her feel as if she were sitting on pins and needles.

Seeing this, the other members had no choice but to bite the bullet and start using their chopsticks. As the leader, Taeyeon tried hard to appear calm, but she had no appetite herself; the familiar dull pain in her stomach left her with no desire to eat.

She forced herself to eat a few bites of vegetables and, when no one was looking, quietly transferred the piece of meat she had been served onto the plate of Seohyun, who was still "battling" with her own piece of meat beside her.

Taeyeon's little movement was very subtle, but Song Tianhao, who had been keeping an eye on them, saw it. He didn't say anything, his gaze shifting almost imperceptibly.

Im Yoona ate very slowly. After three bites of vegetables and a tiny bit of meat, she put down her chopsticks, her eyes drifting.

Her hands were under the table, where no one could see, her fingers pinching the flesh of her thigh hard, using pain to combat the anxiety and fear of "gaining weight" brought on by eating. This was a subconscious habit she had developed during her time at S.M. Entertainment to control her food intake.

Dinner proceeded in a subtle and silent atmosphere. Other than the occasional sound of chopsticks hitting bowls and dishes and the bubbling of the hot pot, there was almost no conversation. Everyone ate cautiously, heavy with their own thoughts.

Just then, the nutritionist who had been hired at a high salary—she had previously been a staff member in a department at S.M. Entertainment responsible for managing artists' figures—perhaps wanting to show off her professionalism, or perhaps out of habit from that S.M. system...

She looked at the girls "struggling" to eat and couldn't help but mutter a word to the assistant beside her. Her voice wasn't loud, but the dining room was quiet, so it still drifted clearly into the ears of those nearby:

"Sigh, eating like this... the calories will definitely exceed the limit. Although they are in a recovery period, idol figure management shouldn't be this lax, and they've only just left S.M. Entertainment..."

She didn't finish her sentence. Because Song Tianhao had put down his chopsticks.

He raised his head, his gaze directed straight at the nutritionist whose face instantly turned awkward. There was no expression on his face as he calmly interrupted her: "Nutritionist Kim, is that right?"

The nutritionist nodded hurriedly: "Yes, President."

"You are fired." Song Tianhao's tone was as flat as if he were saying "The weather is nice today." "Now, go to the finance department to settle today's salary, and then you may leave."

"Wh-what?" The nutritionist froze, her face full of astonishment and panic. "President, I... I was only speaking from a professional perspective..."

"In my company," Song Tianhao looked at her, saying clearly, word for word, "a professional perspective is: my artists come first in health, second in mental state, and third in stage presence. As for weight, within a healthy range, a fluctuation of one or two kilograms is irrelevant.

If your professional perspective is still stuck on 'beauty is only achieved through starvation,' then you aren't suitable for this place. My artists don't need this kind of 'professionalism'."

He turned to Jang Se-hoon: "Manager Jang, contact the Department of Nutrition at Seoul National University Hospital and hire their chief nutritionist as a long-term consultant. Cost is not an issue. I want to see a new, scientifically-based meal plan tomorrow."

"Yes, President." Manager Jang immediately agreed.

The former S.M. Entertainment nutritionist, face flushed red, left in a hurry, looking disheveled under the varied gazes of everyone present.

The dining room fell into silence again, but this silence held a bit more shock and... an indescribable sense of being touched.

The president had actually fired someone on the spot because of one sentence from the nutritionist, and had explicitly stated things like "health comes first" and "my artists don't need to be starved thin."

Song Tianhao acted as if nothing had happened, picking up his chopsticks again, serving himself a full bowl of multigrain rice, and eating heartily with the meat and vegetables from the hot pot. He ate with great relish, very naturally, as if putting his own words into practice.

"I'll eat with you all." He swallowed a mouthful of rice, his gaze sweeping over the girls. "From now on, unless I have unavoidable social engagements, I will try my best to come and eat with you. Fat? If we get fat, we get fat together."

After the meal, Song Tianhao didn't let them rest immediately. He had an assistant bring over a brand-new digital scale and place it in an inconspicuous corner of the living room.

Then, he took out a cute pink cartoon sticker and personally stuck it on the display screen of the scale.

It was unclear where Song Tianhao had gotten this pink cartoon sticker, but it had the four words "Health is Most Beautiful" printed on it, along with a smiley face.

"From now on, every Monday morning, on an empty stomach, wearing the same weight of loungewear, come here and weigh yourselves once." Song Tianhao pointed to the scale with the pink sticker, his tone returning to calm. "The nutritionist will record the data and use it to adjust the meal plans. However, remember—"

He looked at the girls, his gaze serious: "Whoever, due to deliberate dieting or any other reason, loses more than half a kilogram compared to last week..."

He paused, stating the "punishment": "Extra physical training for one hour. I mean what I say. I want a healthy and stable weight, not a plummeting number."

Extra training, not because they got fat, but because they got thin? This once again overturned their understanding.

Finally, Song Tianhao had Manager Jang bring nine brand-new, unopened, latest-model mobile phones and distributed them to them one by one.

"Hand over your old phones to the administrator for safekeeping," he said. "These are your new phones. They only have the numbers of the company's core team, your family, and me. Uninstall all social media apps for the time being.

For at least one month, I do not want you to come into contact with any online public opinion, whether it's good or bad. Focus on recovery, focus on preparation. The voices from the outside world have nothing to do with you right now."

Issuing new phones, restricting social media? This was another layer of protection, or rather, isolation.

This series of "regulations" and actions, which were completely different from or even the exact opposite of S.M. Entertainment, hit the nine girls' psychological defenses like waves, one after another. Forcing them to eat and sleep, firing the "unprofessional" nutritionist, eating with them, the pink-stickered scale, confiscating social media apps...

Each one exuded a kind of gentle yet domineering protection, leaving them at a loss, their hearts filled with trepidation, confusion, and a hint of warmth from being forcibly taken under someone's wing.

It was late at night, and most of the lights in The Resort had been turned off. The girls had each returned to their spacious and somewhat empty individual bedrooms, lying on soft and comfortable large beds, but most were tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Everything that happened today had too much information and too strong an impact.

The light was still on in Song Tianhao's study. He was looking at the detailed rest and preliminary training plan for Girls Generation for the next month, as well as T-ara's upcoming promotional schedule, which Manager Jang had organized and brought over.

A knock sounded gently on the door. "Come in."

The door was pushed open, and Jessica Jung stood at the doorway. She had changed into a light-colored silk pajama set, her long hair draped loose. Her face, washed of makeup, carried a hint of fatigue, but her eyes remained clear, even sharper than during the day.

She was holding a white ceramic plate in her hands, containing the Korean beef slices and vegetables that had been allocated to her that evening but which she had barely touched; they were now cold.

She walked in and gently placed the plate on Song Tianhao's large desk, making a slight clinking sound. "President." She spoke, her voice sounding somewhat cold in the quiet night.

Song Tianhao looked up from the documents, looked at her, and then at the plate of almost untouched food, but said nothing.

"I can't eat anymore." Jessica Jung met his gaze, her tone calm, yet carrying a stubborn sense of inquiry. "It's not that I'm deliberately disobeying orders; I really have no appetite."

Song Tianhao nodded, indicating he had heard her.

Jessica Jung, however, had no intention of leaving. She took half a step forward, supporting herself on the edge of the desk with both hands, leaning forward slightly, her gaze fixed directly on Song Tianhao, as if she wanted to see through his calm, wave-less eyes to the deepest, truest intentions of the person opposite her.

The moonlight from outside the window flowed in through the gap in the curtains, just happening to illuminate half of her face. Her exquisite features appeared somewhat translucent in the moonlight, also reflecting the deep-seated unease and vulnerability beneath the stubbornness in her eyes.

"So, President nim," she asked softly, each word enunciated clearly, as if afraid he wouldn't hear the question she was asking, "how long do you plan to keep up this act of 'warm president,' 'health first,' and 'eating and sleeping well'...?"

She paused, the moonlight casting a small shadow on her long eyelashes. "Or, how long can your patience last? Until we truly lower our guard and start believing that all of this is real?"

Her question was like an ice-tempered knife, cutting open the core suspicion and fear beneath all the veneer of warmth. She did not believe in goodness without reason, especially after he had paid an astronomical price and taken over this "big trouble" that they were.

She wanted to know what kind of price tag was hidden behind this dizzying "kindness," or when it would reveal a completely different face.

The moonlight flowed quietly; in the study, there was only the sound of two people's slight breathing and the faint, lingering aroma emanating from the plate of cold Korean beef on the table.