61: Chapter 61: There's more to come.

The morning sunlight streamed through the damaged floor-to-ceiling windows sealed with plastic sheeting, casting mottled light and shadows on the living room floor. The air still held traces of rain and earth, mixed with the scent of disinfectant.

But the aroma of food drifting from the kitchen was slowly dispelling the lingering shock of last night.

The kitchen was one of the few areas in the Villa that had suffered less damage. Although it had experienced power outages and chaos, the gas still worked, and the faucets were once again running with clear water.

Park So-yeon and Jessica Jung were standing in front of the stove; one was boiling water, while the other was tearing open instant noodle packages. Im Yoona was guarding another burner, clumsily trying to fry eggs; oil splattered occasionally, causing her to let out a soft cry.

At the dining table, Park Hyomin and Taeyeon were sitting side-by-side in wheelchairs, covered with thin blankets, with bowls and chopsticks set out in front of them.

Ham Eunjung had gauze wrapped around her forehead, and her complexion was still a bit pale, but she insisted on helping set out the soup spoons and kimchi dishes. Jeon Boram was helping out on the side, while Lee Qri and Park Ji-yeon were taking inventory of the usable ingredients in the refrigerator.

Unfortunately, most things had spoiled after the long power outage, leaving only a few boxes of sealed instant noodles, some eggs, a few wilted green onions, and some unopened cartons of milk.

"This is all there is." Park Ji-yeon said, looking a bit dejected as she pulled out a package of sausages that didn't look very good. She sniffed them, wrinkled her nose in disgust, and tossed them into the trash can.

"Having instant noodles and eggs is already very good; it's better than going hungry." Sunny was quite optimistic, finding a few usable plates from the cabinet.

Seohyun was quietly wiping the table, while Kim Hyoyeon and Kwon Yuri helped carry the cooked noodles out bowl by bowl. Choi Sooyoung was busy pouring water for everyone, her gaze drifting toward the kitchen from time to time, clearly skeptical of Im Yoona's unreliable egg-frying skills.

Song Tianhao sat at the head of the table, not participating in the busyness. He held his phone, the screen lit up, and he was quickly browsing morning news.

The morning light fell on his profile, outlining a sharp jawline and revealing the faint blue shadows under his eyes. His brows were slightly furrowed, his fingers sliding across the screen, his expression focused.

In the living room, Jang Se-hoon, with two assistants and a few people temporarily called in from a nearby security company, was handling the aftermath: contacting a repair company to assess the Villa's damage, communicating with local police regarding the incident with the intruders last night, and arranging the itinerary for their return to Seoul later.

The low conversation and footsteps, mixed with the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen and the hushed voices of the girls, created a strange, post-apocalyptic kind of "living" noise.

Song Tianhao's gaze lingered on a news flash on the screen: [Jeju Island has experienced rare severe convective weather, with sudden short-term heavy rainfall and a felt earthquake of around magnitude 4 last night. Power outages occurred in parts of Seogwipo City, with no casualties reported so far.]

The news was very brief, accompanied by a few blurry photos of the storm and fallen trees. It didn't mention any specific locations, let alone words like "Star Entertainment" or "Villa intrusion."

He let out a sigh of relief, almost imperceptibly. The nerves he had kept taut all night seemed to relax just a fraction at this moment. Fortunately, the media's attention seemed to be entirely captured by the natural disaster itself, failing to capture any more "exciting" behind-the-scenes details. This at least gave them a bit of a buffer and time to respond.

He put down his phone, rubbed his brow, and looked up at the dining table.

Park So-yeon and Jessica Jung had already finished cooking the noodles. The steaming pot of ramen was brought to the table, and the aroma of spicy broth mixed with dehydrated vegetables and seasoning powder wafted out, instantly whetting everyone's appetite.

After the terror and physical exhaustion of the night, these simple instant noodles smelled like a delicacy at this moment.

"Time to eat!" Im Yoona brought over a plate containing the results of her long effort: a few irregularly shaped fried eggs—some with charred edges, others with yolks on the verge of breaking—but at least they were all intact.

Her face was still stained with a bit of oil, her eyes bright with a touch of pride. "My love-filled fried eggs! Although the presentation... well, is creative, the taste must be good!"

She placed the plate in the center of the table. Park Ji-yeon immediately reached out to grab the one that looked the most complete, but Jeon Boram patted her hand away: "Let the injured and the CEO go first."

Park So-yeon had already picked up the serving chopsticks, first picking up a relatively decent-looking fried egg and placing it into the empty bowl in front of Song Tianhao, her voice gentle: "CEO, you've worked hard, eat something to fill your stomach first."

Almost simultaneously, Jessica Jung scooped a spoonful of noodle soup and drizzled it over that fried egg, her movements natural: "CEO Oppa, be careful, it's hot."

Both of their actions were almost synchronized. When their voices fell, they realized the other had done something similar.

Park So-yeon's chopsticks paused in mid-air, and Jessica Jung's hand holding the soup spoon also faltered. Their gazes met briefly in the air, then quickly separated, their expressions both unnaturally calm.

Everyone else at the table went subtly quiet for a moment. Taeyeon bowed her head, fiddling with her spoon, while Park Hyomin stared at the empty bowl in front of her as if it had some unparalleled pattern on it.

Im Yoona blinked, looking at one, then the other, seemingly wanting to say something, but was quietly tugged on the hem of her shirt by Kwon Yuri beside her.

Just then, the protagonist of the fried eggs, Im Yoona, also picked up her chopsticks and swiftly snatched another "decent-looking" fried egg from the plate, and with lightning speed, "plop," placed it into Song Tianhao's bowl, right next to the one Park So-yeon had placed.

"CEO! Try my craft!" She smiled, her eyes curved, with a sense of wanting credit, completely unaware—or deliberately ignoring—the subtle moment just now.

Now, in Song Tianhao's bowl, two fried eggs lay quietly. One from Park So-yeon, one from Im Yoona. Beside them was the soup Jessica Jung had scooped.

The dining table became even quieter. Even the low conversation from Jang Se-hoon's side stopped.

Everyone's gaze, whether overt or covert, was focused on Song Tianhao and the bowl in front of him that had suddenly become "sumptuous."

Park Hyomin's fingertips unconsciously scratched the armrest of the wheelchair, and Taeyeon's lips pursed tighter. Ham Eunjung stopped setting the bowls and chopsticks and looked up at Song Tianhao.

Jeon Boram and Lee Qri exchanged a helpless look. Seohyun lowered her head, pretending not to see. Kim Hyoyeon and Kwon Yuri had expressions of "another good show to watch," while Choi Sooyoung quietly nudged Sunny with her elbow.

Song Tianhao's gaze swept slowly over the two fried eggs in his bowl. There was no expression on his face; neither embarrassment, nor triumph, not even a hint of surprise. It was as if having two extra fried eggs in his bowl was only natural, the most normal thing in the world.

Under everyone's bated breath, he picked up his chopsticks, his expression as usual, and first picked up the fried egg Park So-yeon had given him, took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. Then, he picked up the fried egg Im Yoona had given him, and took a bite of that as well.

He ate very naturally, one could even say intently, as if he were tasting a Michelin-starred meal, not two fried eggs with questionable presentation. After finishing both eggs, he leisurely picked up the soup spoon and took a sip of the noodle soup Jessica Jung had drizzled over them.

"Hmm." He made a simple sound, showing not much emotion, but at least it wasn't a negative evaluation.

Then, he looked up, his gaze sweeping calmly over the people at the table with their varying expressions, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather: "Why are you all just sitting there? The noodles are getting cold."

"..."

The frozen air seemed to flow instantly.

Park Hyomin exhaled softly and picked up her chopsticks. Taeyeon also moved, starting to stir the noodles in her bowl. Park So-yeon lowered her head and ate her noodles quietly. Jessica Jung served herself a bowl and sat down.

Im Yoona grinned and served herself a fried egg, took a big bite, and immediately wrinkled her little face: "Ah! So salty! Did I put too much salt?"

The small interlude seemed to have been glossed over by Song Tianhao in the most mundane way. The clatter of bowls and chopsticks and low conversations resumed at the dining table, and the atmosphere, amidst the steam of the hot noodles, seemed to return to some semblance of "normal."

Park Hyomin ate her noodles in small bites, but the corner of her eye couldn't help but dart toward Taeyeon beside her. Taeyeon happened to look up, and their gazes met inadvertently, then quickly separated.

Park Hyomin noticed that Taeyeon's earlobes seemed a bit red. And herself? Her cheeks were probably burning too. It was clearly just two fried eggs... but that moment just now, that subtle, suffocating tension...

Song Tianhao seemed completely unaware, or perhaps he just didn't care about their little thoughts. He had already finished one fried egg and started eating the noodles, not fast, but steady.

Occasionally, he would answer the low requests from Jang Se-hoon beside him, concise and to the point. His presence was like a pillar of stability, silently pressing down all the subtle waves at the dining table.

However, this hard-won, barely warm breakfast was destined not to be finished in peace.

Just as Song Tianhao finished the second fried egg and picked up a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth, the phone he had placed on the table suddenly, without warning, vibrated frantically.

It wasn't a ringtone, but a continuous, rapid vibration. Buzz, buzz, buzz—in the relatively quiet dining room, it sounded particularly jarring.

Everyone's movements stalled, and their gazes were cast in unison once again toward that black phone. On the screen, the caller ID was "Assistant - Chief Li."

Song Tianhao's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. He put down the napkin, picked up the phone, pressed the answer button, and his voice was steady: "Speak."

From the other end of the phone came Assistant Chief Li's panicked, almost hysterical voice. Because the dining room was quiet, and because Song Tianhao didn't avoid them, the sound reached the ears of the few people sitting closer:

"C-CEO! Something happened! B-big trouble! You... you and Hyomin, Ji-yeon... no, not just them, it's... it's with T-ara, Girls Generation... the photos! So many photos! They're... they're on the hot search! The internet is exploding right now!"

"Boom—!"

It was as if a bomb had exploded on a calm lake.

At the dining table, everyone's movements froze completely.

Park Hyomin's chopsticks dropped onto the table with a "clatter." The soup bowl Taeyeon was holding tilted, and the broth almost spilled out. Park So-yeon jerked her head up. The color drained from Jessica Jung's face instantly.

Im Yoona opened her mouth wide, and the fried egg fell back into the bowl. Ham Eunjung's fingers tightened, gripping the edge of the table. Lee Qri, Jeon Boram, Park Ji-yeon... everyone stopped what they were doing, their expressions shifting rapidly from confusion to shock and panic.

Jang Se-hoon's complexion also became extremely ugly, and he immediately gestured to his assistant, signaling him to check the internet activity immediately.

Only Song Tianhao remained holding the phone, not a hint of surprise on his face.

He simply listened calmly to the assistant's incoherent, tearful report, his gaze even sweeping over the last bit of noodle soup left in his bowl.

Then, in everyone's disbelieving gaze, he picked up his chopsticks, picked up the last small piece of fried egg in the bowl, calmly put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

Song Tianhao's movements were unhurried, as elegant as if he were enjoying the final dessert at a high-end restaurant.

After eating, he put down his chopsticks, picked up the napkin, wiped the corner of his mouth again, and spoke into the phone, his voice calm without a ripple:

"I know."

"For the specific situation, send the links and screenshots to my email. Notify everyone in the PR department to report to duty immediately and prepare a press release. I will send you the framework for the press release in ten minutes."

"Until my next instruction, the company's official accounts and all artists' private accounts must remain silent. No replies or likes allowed. Have the monitoring team keep a close watch on major forums and SNS, and give me a public opinion briefing every hour."

"Also, contact the heads of 'Starlight Media' and 'First Entertainment' and ask them how the 'late-night snack' tasted last night."

He issued his instructions one by one, clearly and logically, his tone steady, as if he were arranging a regular company meeting, not handling a PR crisis that could sweep through the entire company or even the entire entertainment industry.

The dining table was deathly silent, with only his calm voice echoing. The panic on the girls' faces seemed to be forcibly suppressed by his composure, but the unease and worry in their eyes grew heavier.

Hanging up the phone, Song Tianhao placed it aside and looked up at the faces around the table, some pale, some panicked, some pretending to be calm.

His gaze swept calmly over each person, and finally, it landed on the bowl of instant noodles in front of him that had already cooled somewhat, with oil congealing on the surface of the soup.

"Why are you all looking at me?" He picked up the spoon, scooped up a spoonful of noodle soup, brought it to his mouth, took a sip, and then looked up and said flatly:

"Eat first."

"If the noodles get mushy, they won't taste good."

His tone was so ordinary, as if that earth-shattering phone call just now was, like the mouthful of noodle soup, just a trivial matter in daily life.