78: Chapter 78 Pay attention, we're in class!

The crisp sound of the doorbell echoed in the silent living room, like a stone thrown into a calm lake.

Lee Qri froze on Song Tianhao's lap, her body instantly tensing up.

The cautiously upturned face on the screen, those round eyes carrying a fawning smile, were like a harsh spotlight, exposing her current ambiguous situation, the ill-fitting brand-new dress on her body, and the marks on her neck that might not have faded yet, leaving nowhere to hide.

It turned out to be Jeon Boram. The leader of T-ara, Jeon Boram, who always followed behind her like a little tail.

Why would she come here? What did she see? Did she... know something?

A wave of panic and shame surged into her heart. Lee Qri subconsciously wanted to spring up from Song Tianhao's lap, but was firmly held by the arm around her waist.

Song Tianhao just glanced at the screen, his face expressionless, showing neither surprise nor the awkwardness of being caught. He even maintained his previous posture, his arm loosely circling her waist, his other hand resting casually on the sofa armrest, his fingertips tapping lightly on the edge of a document.

"Ding-dong."

The doorbell rang again, this time seeming to carry a hint of hesitation.

Song Tianhao finally moved. He released the hand around Lee Qri's waist and gently patted her back, signaling her to get up.

Lee Qri stood up almost in a panic, her legs weak, nearly losing her balance.

She quickly smoothed her skirt and subconsciously raised her hand to tuck the hair behind her ears, trying to make herself look more "normal," even though she knew it might be futile.

Her red, swollen eyes, slightly pale complexion, and this brand-new dress that was clearly not her style or size—everything was laid bare.

Song Tianhao had already risen, walking unhurriedly to the entryway and pressing the intercom button.

"Who is it?" His voice came through the intercom, calm and waveless.

"Pr-President nim! It's me, Jeon Boram! Jeon Boram!"

On the screen, Jeon Boram seemed startled, immediately standing straight and bowing respectfully to the camera. The pink lunch box she was holding swayed along with her, "Um... I, I came to bring President some food! It's kimchi fried rice I made myself! And, and also..."

She paused, her voice softening, carrying obvious concern: "Qri didn't return to the dormitory yesterday, and her phone has been unreachable... I was a little worried, so I wanted to come and check... Is Qri with President?"

Her reason sounded reasonable; a teammate not returning for the night, unable to be reached, and coming to the company President to ask out of concern seemed plausible.

But Lee Qri knew how lame this excuse was. Jeon Boram was not the type to casually disturb the President, especially not a President like Song Tianhao who looked unapproachable.

Song Tianhao did not answer immediately, but turned his head to look at Lee Qri, who was frozen in the center of the living room. His eyes held no emotion, but Lee Qri inexplicably understood his silent inquiry.

She bit her lower lip and nodded almost imperceptibly.

Only then did Song Tianhao press the unlock button.

"Come in." After saying that, he turned and walked back, seemingly not intending to greet her at the door.

Lee Qri's heart beat rapidly, almost threatening to burst out of her chest. She looked toward the entryway, listening to the sound of the keypad unlocking and the door being pushed open, feeling like a prisoner awaiting judgment.

Jeon Boram carefully poked half her body in, first bowing toward the living room: "Excuse the intrusion, President nim."

Then she took off her shoes and entered, clutching the two pink lunch boxes tightly in her hands.

She was petite, wearing a simple white T-shirt and denim shorts, with her hair in a bun, and light makeup on her face, looking fresh and cute. Only, those eyes that were always smiling were currently filled with undisguised nervousness and inquiry.

As soon as she entered, her gaze quickly swept across the living room, then landed precisely on Lee Qri.

"Qri!" Jeon Boram's eyes lit up, and she almost immediately trotted over, but halfway there, her steps hesitantly slowed down.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the cream-colored dress Lee Qri was wearing—clearly expensive and well-tailored, but definitely not Lee Qri's usual style—and then quickly swept over her slightly red, swollen eyes and somewhat messy hair.

Finally, Jeon Boram's gaze fixed for a tenth of a second on a faint red mark on the side of her neck.

The smile on Jeon Boram's face stiffened for a moment, but quickly returned to natural, perhaps even brighter than before.

She raised the lunch boxes in her hands and said in a light tone: "Qri! You really are here! I made kimchi fried rice, and thinking President might not have had breakfast yet, I brought some extra. Qri, you and President eat together!"

She acted as if she hadn't noticed anything, as if Lee Qri had just happened to wake up early, appeared in a single male President's apartment wearing a new dress, and her eyes were red and swollen just because she hadn't slept well.

But Lee Qri knew this unnie too well; the more nonchalant she acted, the more turbulent her heart must be.

Lee Qri felt her cheeks burning, so embarrassed she wished she could find a crack in the ground and crawl into it immediately. She opened her mouth to explain something, but found her throat dry, unable to say a single word.

What could she say? Say she and President were "learning acting"? Say her staying the night here was an "accident"? Any explanation at this moment seemed pale and ridiculous.

Just as she was at a loss, Song Tianhao had already walked back to the sofa, sat down again, picked up the document he had been reading, and spoke in a natural tone: "Thank you. I haven't had breakfast yet, as it happens."

He looked up at Jeon Boram, his gaze calm: "Sit down and eat together."

Jeon Boram was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting Song Tianhao to invite her to eat breakfast so naturally.

She glanced at Lee Qri, then looked at Song Tianhao, and then nodded obediently: "Ne, thank you, President nim."

She placed the lunch boxes on the glass coffee table in the center of the living room, and sat down on the edge of the large gray single sofa with some restraint, occupying only one-third of the seat, her back straight.

Then she opened the lids of the lunch boxes, and the aroma of kimchi fried rice immediately wafted out, mixed with the scent of seaweed, adding a touch of warmth to this cold, minimalist living room.

The rice was still steaming, evidently brought over shortly after being made.

The fried rice looked very appetizing; golden egg liquid evenly coated the rice, with red kimchi and green scallions dotted throughout, and it was carefully accompanied by pan-fried, crispy luncheon meat and a few slices of pickled radish. Both lunch boxes had generous portions.

Jeon Boram took out the prepared utensils; there were actually three sets.

She handed a pair of chopsticks to Song Tianhao, took out another pair for Lee Qri, and took the last pair herself, saying softly: "President nim, Qri, please enjoy your meal."

Song Tianhao took the chopsticks, said thank you, and then very naturally used a spoon to scoop a spoonful of fried rice from the lunch box, put it into his mouth, chewed a few times, and nodded: "The taste is not bad."

His evaluation was simple, but Jeon Boram's eyes lit up instantly, as if she had received immense affirmation, her cheeks flushing slightly: "Really? Thank you, President nim!"

Lee Qri also took the chopsticks, her fingertips ice-cold. She looked at the fragrant fried rice in front of her, but had no appetite at all; her stomach felt like it was blocked by a stone. She mechanically picked up a little rice, put it in her mouth, and it tasted like wax.

The atmosphere was somewhat subtle. Only Song Tianhao ate in a composed manner, as if this were truly just an ordinary breakfast brought by a teammate.

Jeon Boram ate in small bites, occasionally stealing a glance at Lee Qri, then quickly lowering her head. Lee Qri, meanwhile, kept staring at her own lunch box, wishing she could bury her head inside it.

"Qri," Jeon Boram suddenly spoke softly, breaking the silence, "Are you... okay yesterday? Your phone was off the whole time, and Soyeon and the others were worried."

Lee Qri's hand holding the chopsticks trembled, and the rice almost fell out.

She forced a smile, her voice somewhat dry: "N-no, it's nothing... my phone just ran out of battery. Had some... private business, finished late, so I just... found a place nearby to rest." The more she spoke, the softer her voice became, until it was almost inaudible.

This explanation was full of holes; even she didn't believe it.

Jeon Boram said "Oh," nodded, and didn't press further, just picked up another piece of luncheon meat and placed it in Lee Qri's lunch box: "Qri, eat more, you look so tired."

This thoughtful gesture, however, made Lee Qri feel even worse. Looking at that perfectly pan-fried piece of luncheon meat, her nose suddenly felt a bit sore.

Jeon Boram was always like this; being the oldest, she was the best at taking care of others, with a delicate and sensitive mind.

She had probably guessed everything, yet asked nothing, and even went out of her way to make breakfast and bring it over, afraid she would be hungry, afraid she would be embarrassed.

"Thank you, unnie," Lee Qri said in a low voice, poking the piece of luncheon meat with her chopsticks.

Song Tianhao seemed not to notice the subtle atmosphere between the two. He finished his portion, put down his chopsticks, picked up the water glass beside him to take a sip, and then looked at Jeon Boram, asking as if in passing: "How is the practice progress for T-ara recently? Are you familiar with the choreography for the new song?"

With the topic suddenly shifting to work, Jeon Boram immediately sat up straight, put down her chopsticks, and replied respectfully: "Ne, President nim. The choreography is almost there; the teachers said just a bit more refining of the formation and details will be fine."

"It's just... just Eunjung's part, the high notes are still a bit unstable, and the vocal teacher has been giving her extra training recently." She answered strictly and formally, like a subordinate reporting work seriously.

Song Tianhao nodded: "Starting next week, the company will arrange some acting classes for you all. Those interested can sign up."

He paused and added, "Not just you all, Girls Generation will also have classes; we've hired some good teachers."

"Acting classes?" Jeon Boram's eyes lit up, then she asked carefully, "Is it... like the... small classes President previously gave Hyomin and the others?"

She asked euphemistically, but the words "small classes" made Lee Qri's heart jump violently.

She recalled vaguely hearing Hyomin mention before that the President would privately "give her extra attention" to guide her acting. Now that she thought about it, that so-called "guidance" was likely not much different from the "teaching" she experienced last night.

Song Tianhao looked at Jeon Boram, his fingers tapping lightly on the sofa armrest, noncommittal: "You could say that. More targeted individual training."

Jeon Boram's hands on her knees tightened slightly.

She took a deep breath, as if having made a great resolution, raised her head, looked directly at Song Tianhao, and put on that smile again—carrying a hint of fawning, but also exceptionally serious: "President nim, can... can I sign up too?"

Her words made both Lee Qri and Song Tianhao look at her.

Jeon Boram seemed a bit nervous, but still tried hard to maintain her smile, saying clearly: "I also want to take acting classes. President nim's classes." She specifically emphasized "President nim's classes."

Song Tianhao didn't speak, just looked at her, his gaze calm, seemingly scrutinizing and evaluating.

Jeon Boram felt somewhat uneasy under his gaze, her fingers subconsciously twisting together, but she still gathered her courage and continued: "I know I'm very stupid, my acting isn't good, and I don't have much talent... But, I will work very hard! Really! I, I want to learn too! I want to be like Hyomin, and... Qri, to be able to learn things from President nim!"

She mentioned Lee Qri, and her gaze also turned to her. In those round eyes, there were complex emotions. There was longing, nervousness, a hint of envy, and something deeper that Lee Qri couldn't understand for a moment.

Lee Qri's heart tightened. What... what does Jeon Boram mean? She also wants to...?

Song Tianhao finally spoke, his voice without fluctuation: "What do you want to learn?"

Jeon Boram was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting Song Tianhao to ask this. She bit her lower lip and thought for a moment, then raised her head, a smile appearing on her face again, but there was something more in that smile—like determination, or perhaps the courage of burning one's bridges.

"I want to learn..." she said, word by word, clearly, "to learn how to be seen by others."

The living room instantly went quiet. There was only the faint sound of the air conditioner running and the indistinct city noise from outside the window.

Lee Qri stared blankly at Jeon Boram. To be seen by others? What does this mean? Is it the literal meaning of "presence," or... something else?

In this group, because of her height and style, Jeon Boram was indeed sometimes overlooked and called an "invisible member." Is she wanting to learn acting to increase her presence? Or...

Song Tianhao looked at Jeon Boram, and in those eyes that were always calm and waveless, a faint, interest-like light seemed to flash by. He didn't say yes, nor did he say no, just said indifferently: "My classes aren't cheap."

These words were loaded with meaning. Lee Qri understood, her body slightly stiffening.

Jeon Boram understood too.

Her hands on her knees tightened further, her nails almost digging into her palms. But the smile on her face was even brighter, and she even nodded forcefully: "I know. I can afford it."

Her gaze turned to Lee Qri, looking at the expensive dress on her, looking at the marks on her neck, looking at her red, swollen eyes that were forcing a calm appearance, and said in a very soft but incredibly clear voice: "What Lee Qri paid..."

She paused, her eyes meeting Song Tianhao's gaze once more. Her voice was soft, yet it carried a strange, resolute firmness: "... I will pay whatever [you require] as well."

"Bzz—bzz—bzz—!"

Just then, a harsh vibration sound from a phone suddenly came from the direction of the bedroom, breaking the almost stagnant atmosphere in the living room.

It was Lee Qri's ringtone. It was a song with a strange melody and even stranger lyrics, a custom ringtone she had recorded herself. The lyrics were essentially a mockery of debt collection calls, which she jokingly called the "Debt Collection Song."

Usually, whenever she heard this ringtone, she would immediately hang up or silence it, but this morning had been so chaotic that she had completely forgotten about it.

At this moment, in the eerily silent living room, that absurd and self-deprecating ringtone sounded particularly jarring and harsh.

"Bzz—bzz—!"

The ringtone buzzed stubbornly, vibrating against the nightstand in the bedroom, as if reminding everyone of Lee Qri's terrible family predicament—one that had to be repaid with "tuition."

Lee Qri's face turned deathly pale in an instant. She stood up from the sofa abruptly; her movement was so rushed that her knee hit the edge of the coffee table with a dull thud. She didn't care about the pain, staggering as she rushed toward the bedroom.

It was too embarrassing. It was too humiliating.

Just after completing that "transaction," just as the embarrassment she least wanted anyone to know about was witnessed by a teammate, and just as she was trying to maintain a shred of pitiful dignity, this call from her mother—accompanied by that mocking ringtone—felt like a loud slap across her face, tearing all her pretenses to shreds.

Jeon Boram was also stunned. She looked at Lee Qri's panicked retreating figure, then at the two unfinished portions of fried rice on the coffee table, and finally, her gaze landed on Song Tianhao's face opposite her.

Song Tianhao's face was expressionless, though his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly when that absurd ringtone rang out. He noticed the instant stiffness and trembling in Lee Qri's body when she heard the ringtone, like a frightened rabbit.

He didn't move, merely watching as Lee Qri practically bolted into the bedroom. Then, the ringtone stopped abruptly; she had likely silenced it.

The living room returned to silence, but the atmosphere was even more stagnant and eerie than before.

Jeon Boram slowly withdrew her gaze and lowered her head, looking at the half-eaten fried rice in front of her, her chopsticks unconsciously poking at the rice.

Her words from just a moment ago, along with this sudden phone call, were like two knives slicing through certain pretenses, exposing the bloody reality underneath.

Song Tianhao picked up his water glass, took another sip, then set it down, his gaze landing on Jeon Boram's bowed head.

"Next week," he began, his voice returning to its usual indifference, "the second session of the acting class starts. You can come find Manager Jang to sign up."

He didn't directly agree to her insinuation about "paying whatever," but simply gave her an opportunity to sign up.

Jeon Boram jerked her head up, a flash of light in her eyes, but it quickly subsided, replaced by a more complex emotion.

She nodded vigorously: "Yes! Thank you, President-nim! I will definitely study hard!"

Just then, Lee Qri walked out of the bedroom. Her face was even paler than before, her lips pressed tightly together. She clutched the silenced phone in her hand, her knuckles white from the force. She walked very slowly, each step feeling like she was treading on cotton.

She didn't look at Jeon Boram, nor did she look at Song Tianhao. She simply walked to the coffee table and silently began to tidy up the bento boxes she and Song Tianhao had finished. Her movements were mechanical, her fingertips icy cold.

"Qri, let me do it..." Jeon Boram offered to help.

"No need." Lee Qri interrupted her, her voice very soft but carrying an unquestionable refusal. She quickly closed the empty bento boxes and tidied up the chopsticks Song Tianhao had used, never once looking up.

Jeon Boram's outstretched hand froze in mid-air, then slowly retracted. The smile on her face finally faltered, the corners of her mouth drooping slightly.

Song Tianhao took all of this in but said nothing. He picked up the document he had been reviewing earlier and opened it again, as if the awkward interlude had never happened.

"President-nim, Qri, I... I'll head back now." Jeon Boram stood up, bowed to Song Tianhao, and then whispered to Lee Qri, who was facing away from her while cleaning up, "Qri, you... you get some rest. I'll tell Soyeon about the group."

Lee Qri's cleaning motion paused for a second; she nodded almost imperceptibly, still not turning back.

Jeon Boram glanced at Song Tianhao again, but he merely gave her a slight nod before returning his gaze to the document. She bit her lip, said nothing more, turned, and walked toward the entryway. She put on her shoes, opened the door gently, and closed it just as softly.

"Click."

The sound of the lock closing was very faint, but to Lee Qri, it was exceptionally clear. She stopped what she was doing, her shoulders slumping slightly, as if all her strength had been drained away.

Song Tianhao put down the document and looked at her rigid back.

"She likes you." He spoke suddenly, his voice a calm statement of fact.

Lee Qri's body trembled. She turned around slowly, her face filled with confusion and lingering paleness: "What?"

Song Tianhao stood up, walked over to her, and looked down at her: "Jeon Boram. She likes you."

Lee Qri opened her mouth, wanting to say, "We're teammates, we're sisters, of course she likes me," but the words died on her lips, and she swallowed them back.

The "like" Song Tianhao was referring to was clearly not that ordinary kind of teammate affection.

"It's not the kind of 'like' you're thinking of," Song Tianhao said, as if reading her mind. He continued, his tone devoid of fluctuation, like he was analyzing a character in a script. "It's dependency. You are the person in T-ara who takes care of her and protects her the most. In her heart, you are probably the most important sister, her pillar of support."

He paused, looking into Lee Qri's bewildered eyes, and added: "She's afraid you'll be taken away by me."

Afraid you'll be taken away by me.

That's why she came over. That's why she acted so "normal" when she saw the traces you left behind. That's why she asked to join the "acting class" upon hearing about it. That's why she said something like, "Whatever Qri pays, I'll pay too."

That wasn't vying for favor, nor was it self-degradation.

It was a clumsy, desperate... effort to stay by the side of someone important to her. Using the only way she could think of that might be effective.

Lee Qri stood there, dazed, digesting Song Tianhao's words. Her heart felt like it was being gripped by something, a mix of soreness and swelling.

She remembered how Boram was always following behind her, sweetly calling out "Qri"; she remembered the warm milk Boram would silently hand her when she was in a bad mood; she remembered when she was on the verge of a breakdown from those debt collector calls, Boram would hold her and whisper, "Qri, it's okay, it will get better"...

She had always regarded Boram as a sister who needed taking care of, but she had never imagined that in this unnie's heart, she was such an important existence—important enough that she would go to such lengths, attempting to squeeze into this twisted relationship she likely didn't even understand, just so she wouldn't be "left behind."

"Then, President..." Lee Qri heard her own voice, sounding dry. She looked up, meeting Song Tianhao's deep, calm eyes. There was no mockery or pity in them, only an unfathomable depth she couldn't understand. "... Will I be taken away?"

After asking this, she herself was stunned. What kind of question was that? It felt like she was seeking confirmation, and yet also begging for a promise she wasn't even sure of herself.

Song Tianhao looked at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled very faintly. The smile was so light it barely counted as one, just a slight upward curl of the corners of his mouth.

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned around, picked up the bento boxes Lee Qri had tidied on the coffee table, and walked toward the open-concept kitchen.

"That depends on you," he said, turning on the faucet and beginning to rinse the bento boxes. The sound of rushing water was loud, and his voice, mixed into the sound of the water, was somewhat blurry yet exceptionally clear. "Whether the tuition you pay is enough to keep me."

Lee Qri stood where she was, watching his tall, straight back at the counter. Water droplets splashed, dancing on his long, slender fingers and the sleek bento boxes. Sunlight streamed in from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding his silhouette with a faint golden edge.

Tuition...

What she was paying was her body, her month, perhaps even longer. This was all she had left that she could trade with.

Was it enough to keep him?

She didn't know. She didn't even know if she wanted to "keep" him. To keep a man who had bound her through a transaction, to keep a relationship that was destined to be unequal and hidden from the light.

Yet, when he said "You are the first," when she sat on his lap and heard him say "No need for honorifics," when she saw Jeon Boram say "I will pay whatever [you ask] too"—that inexplicable prick of pain and panic in her heart... what was that?

She didn't know. She only knew that she was standing here right now, wearing the dress he bought, with his marks on her neck, a massive sum of money he had wired to her account to solve her family crisis, while her teammate—the girl group member she wanted to protect—was attempting to squeeze in using the same method.

She had no way out. Or rather, from the moment she nodded, her way out had been cut off.

Lee Qri walked slowly to the kitchen, stepping behind Song Tianhao. The sound of water continued; he was turned away from her, focused on washing the bento boxes. His movements weren't exactly practiced, but they were very careful.

She reached out and gently wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.

Pressing her face against the crisp back of his shirt, she could feel the warm body temperature and solid muscle lines beneath the fabric. She closed her eyes, catching the faint, crisp scent of him, mixed with a hint of cooking oil from breakfast.

Song Tianhao's washing motion paused, though the water kept running.

"President..." she spoke softly, her voice muffled against his back, carrying a tremor and a sense of burning her bridges behind her, "I will... study hard."

I will study hard, learn how to be your woman, learn how to make you... keep me. Even if it's through this humiliating, transactional way.

Song Tianhao turned off the faucet.

The sound of rushing water stopped abruptly, and the kitchen instantly fell silent, leaving only the sound of their intertwined breathing.

He didn't turn around immediately, merely letting her hold him from behind. A few seconds later, he deliberately dried his hands with a towel nearby, then grasped her hands that were wrapped around his waist and turned around.

Lee Qri was forced to let go and looked up at him. His gaze was deep, landing on her face with scrutiny and a hint of a dark, murky flame she couldn't understand.

"This time," he began, his voice slightly husky. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and with a slight exertion, lifted her up and placed her on the clean, spacious kitchen counter beside them.

The cold touch of the countertop made her flinch, but the next second, his body pressed over, trapping her between him and the icy surface.

"In the kitchen," Song Tianhao said, leaning close to her until their noses were almost touching. Their breaths mingled, carrying the faint scent of mint toothpaste and the aroma of breakfast. His tone was calm, yet carried an unquestionable sense of control. "A new lesson."

He lowered his head and kissed her eyelashes, which were trembling slightly from nervousness.

"Teaching you," his lips moved to her ear, his warm breath spraying against her sensitive earlobe, causing a subtle shiver, "how to... get into character in any environment."

Lee Qri's heart was beating so fast it was almost out of control. The bright lights of the kitchen, the unobstructed view of the city landscape outside the window, the realization that her teammate who had just left might not have gone far... everything made her feel nervous and ashamed, yet there was also a faint, degenerate, controlled thrill.

She closed her eyes, accepting the kiss he bestowed upon her. This kiss carried an irresistible intensity, prying open her lips and teeth.

Lee Qri's hands subconsciously pressed against his chest, but he caught them. With her body pressed against the cold kitchen counter and his warm chest in front of her, the contrast between cold and hot made her shiver slightly.

While the two were in a deep kiss, she unconsciously turned her head, her gaze passing over Song Tianhao's shoulder to look at the towering apartment building opposite the window.

For a split second, she seemed to see a light flash behind a window across the way.

It looked like... the reflection of a camera lens?

Her body stiffened, but before she could think it through, Song Tianhao's kiss had landed on her collarbone, accompanied by a light, punishing bite that sent a tingling numbness coursing through her entire body.

"Focus," his husky voice sounded in her ear, carrying dissatisfaction and a warning. "We're in the middle of a lesson!"

Lee Qri instantly pulled her focus back, not daring to be distracted again. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back clumsily.

Outside the window, the sun was bright, and the city was bustling with traffic. And behind a window in the high-rise opposite, a telephoto lens slowly retracted.