"So," Luca said, leaning back against the couch. "What are you gonna do now?"
Foca hummed thoughtfully, fingers steepled. "Hmm… honestly?" He tilted his head slightly. "I'm kinda curious to see how this one plays out."
The room froze.
"…Huh?" Tuesday blinked. "You serious right now?"
"Yeah," Foca replied calmly—too calmly. A faint, dangerous glint sparked in his eyes. "The more I think about it, the more interesting it gets."
Tuesday narrowed her eyes. "Explain. Slowly. Preferably before I throw something."
"If we partner with Maxim's company," Foca continued, unbothered, "he gets his precious little bonus. But we gain leverage. Influence. Access." He smiled faintly. "Once we're in, their CEO would bend over backward to keep us happy."
There was a beat.
"O–ohhh…" Tuesday's face shifted as understanding dawned. Then she grinned wide and ugly. "Oh, you evil motherfucker."
Hyouka gasped dramatically. "Allow me."
She straightened up, fingers flying as if presenting a TED Talk fueled by spite.
"We accept the partnership. Maxim gets worked into the ground—overtime, pressure, impossible expectations. Then we fire his ass, cut off his income, blacklist him from the industry so he can never crawl his way back into a high-paying job." She inhaled sharply—then kept going. "That causes his already-fragile marriage to implode. Cue ugly divorce, greedy families clawing at assets, legal hell, reputations ruined—"
She smiled sweetly.
"—and they destroy themselves while we sit pretty, hands clean, sipping tea."
Dead silence.
"…Exactly," Foca said proudly. "Chamber, hold off on Schrödinger for now. Let's see how this unfolds."
"As you wish, young master," Chamber replied smoothly.
Luca stared between the two of them. "…Jesus Christ. You guys are a match made in heaven."
"Awww, staaahp," Hyouka said bashfully, swatting his arm.
THUD.
"Oww—BITCH," Luca hissed, clutching his arm. "What the fuck was that?!"
"Oh relax," Hyouka said breezily. "I aimed away from your face. Didn't wanna ruin it."
Luca paused. "…Wait. You think I'm hot?"
"I shall not lie," she replied solemnly. "Objectively speaking—unfortunately—yes."
"Hey! Why unfortunately?!" Luca protested.
"I refuse to elaborate," Hyouka said primly, slipping back into her Bridgerton voice. "Inflating your ego would be a professional failure on my part."
She turned back to her bags.
"I'm out," Tuesday announced, standing up. "I ain't meeting no cheating-ass man unless y'all want him strangled with a weave."
"A w-weave?" Bobby squeaked, eyes wide with terror.
Lili giggled instantly, snuggling closer to him. Bobby flushed, staring at her like she'd just cured cancer.
Tuesday gagged dramatically, pointing at the PDA.
Luca grimaced like he'd tasted something sour.
Foca simply smiled at them all—soft, satisfied, vindicated.
Now you know what I've been suffering through.
And for once?
He was enjoying it.
"Oh, don't worry," Hyouka chirped suddenly. "I'll go on the date in your place."
The room snapped to her.
"I'm actually very excited to see the fucker in person," she added, practically glowing.
Tuesday blinked. "…You sure about that, boo?"
"No problem at all," Hyouka said cheerfully, already digging back into her bags like a raccoon with a mission. "In fact—help me choose."
She began lining bottles up on the table.
"What do we feel today? Laxatives? Ketamine?" she mused. "Oh—or peanuts."
Everyone stiffened.
"She mentioned in one of her livestreams that her loser husband is severely allergic to peanuts," Hyouka continued brightly. "So! Options!" She started counting on her fingers. "Cashews. Walnuts. Pistachios. Almonds. Mixed nuts. Peanut oil. Ooooh—"
She triumphantly lifted a jar.
"—extra crunchy peanut butter."
"…Are you trying to kill him?" Luca asked, equal parts amused and deeply alarmed.
"Oh please," Hyouka waved him off. "He'll live. Cockroaches are notoriously hard to kill." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Besides, I'm sure he carries an EpiPen. I just want him to suffer a little for hurting Sir Foca."
Bobby stared at the jar like it might leap off the table and attack him.
"If you're alright meeting Maxim in Tuesday's place," Foca said calmly, "you may do whatever you want."
Hyouka beamed.
"Just," Foca added quickly, "don't go too overboard."
"Thank yew, Sir Foca!" Hyouka said, hands clasped, eyes sparkling with devotion. "I promise I won't disappoint."
She turned away, still smiling—then muttered far too loudly:
"…Guess laxatives it is, then."
The room went dead silent.
Every single head turned.
Hyouka froze mid-step.
"…I thought that was quieter," she said sheepishly.
Luca slowly leaned back. "I fear you more than Schrödinger."
Tuesday nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Same."
Foca, meanwhile, took a sip of his tea, perfectly composed.
Somewhere deep inside, he decided:
Hiring her was the best decision I've ever made.
"By the way," Luca suddenly said, squinting at Hyouka, "what's up with the big-ass bags? I feel like you've been pulling shit out of those two since the dawn of time."
Everyone paused.
…Yeah. Fair question.
"Oh, these?" Hyouka brightened instantly, like someone had just complimented her favorite children. She affectionately patted the massive tote bag and suitecase. "These are very special to me. My ride or dies."
She patted the tote.
"This is Pan."
Then she turned and lovingly slapped the enormous industrial suitcase beside her.
"And this is Dora."
She clasped her hands together, beaming.
"Together, they're PanDora. My trusty bags. Cute, right?"
"…R-right," Luca said slowly, lips twitching into a strained smile. "Cute."
Absolutely nothing alarming about being named after a box that unleashed all the world's evils.
"It actually makes sense," Lili nodded thoughtfully. "You've been pulling out so many zhings, it's like zhey're a bottomless abyss."
"Exactly!" Hyouka snapped her fingers. "They help me a lot. I need… a lot of things."
"You need laxatives and ketamine because…?" Luca pressed.
"You know," Hyouka said calmly, with terrifying conviction, "for times like these. When fuckers need to be dealt with."
"You know what?" Tuesday nodded seriously. "You right, gurl."
Lili nodded too, fully convinced.
Bobby slowly turned to Lili, staring at her like she'd just admitted she was actually not French, all this time.
"I think I'm getting a headache," Luca muttered, rubbing his temple.
"Oh no, we can't have that!" Hyouka gasped. She immediately dove into PanDora, rummaging at lightning speed. "I have acetaminophen, ibuprofen, naproxen—what do you prefer?"
Luca shot upright.
"…You know what," he said quickly, hands up, "I think you scared my headache away."
Hyouka smiled sweetly.
"Happy to help."
Somewhere in the room, Bobby silently decided never to make Hyouka mad—
and Foca?
Foca was thriving.
****
And so, the meeting dragged on.
Bobby, Lili, and Ruach finally excused themselves, mercifully freed at last.
Foca let them go with a soft apology for holding them longer than expected. Bobby, ever polite, waved it off, insisting he was grateful to be included in such an impromptu higher-up meeting.
…Which was true.
But he was also very glad to leave—his brain was officially full. Overstimulated. Fried. Any more information and smoke might've started coming out of his ears.
Bobby and Lili walked out hand in hand, quiet smiles on their faces, looking like they'd just survived something together. Ruach followed behind them, offering a respectful bow before slipping out, noticeably lighter than he'd been all evening.
Once the door closed, the atmosphere shifted.
"Well," Hyouka said casually, flipping a page in her binder, "I don't know if this'll interest you, Sir Foca—but there's currently a pretty massive hate-train campaign against Bread Music in Korea."
That got everyone's attention.
"I mean," Tuesday leaned back, arms crossed, "I'd say what's new… but now I'm curious."
"There are three main issues," Hyouka continued smoothly. "The first one? Netizens losing their damn minds over the fact that LEAVEN exists."
Luca blinked. "You're kidding."
"Unfortunately not. Most of the outrage comes from stans of the newly debuted group E:Den—they've been especially vocal."
Hyouka tapped the binder.
"Now, officially? It's all speculation. Unofficially?" She smiled thinly. "A lot of people—including me—believe these 'fans' are mostly keyboard warriors… hired by none other than Kang Seo-yul."
Tuesday let out a low whistle. "E:Den's center."
"Genesis Project's rank one golden boy," Hyouka nodded. "A chaebol. Shock of the century, I know."
"And why the hell would he do that?" Foca asked.
"Because of August."
The name hung in the air.
"…Didn't August have to leave the competition last minute?" Foca frowned. "He got really sick."
"Correct," Hyouka said. "Now—allegedly—"
She emphasized the word, though her tone suggested she didn't believe the disclaimer for a second.
"—a former contestant admitted in multiple private group chats that he was paid a significant amount of money by Kang Seo-yul to… help make that happen."
Tuesday's jaw tightened. "Define 'help.'"
"Simple things," Hyouka replied, voice chilling in its calm. "Turning the air-conditioning to freezing temperatures in August's room in the middle of the night. Constantly offering him ice-cold water. And making sure he drank it."
Luca's expression darkened. "Why wouldn't he refuse?"
"Because August was an independent trainee," Hyouka answered. "No company. No backing. And in Korea—respect for seniority, hierarchy, and fear of being disliked? That shit is weaponized."
She flipped another page.
"He was also allegedly treated like an errand boy. Woken up in the middle of the night. Sent on runs. Ordered around even after full days of practice."
Silence.
"That," Hyouka said quietly, "is why his body finally gave out during the GenPro finals."
She slid the binder forward.
"Page 278. Everything's logged. Screenshots. Dates. Cross-references. Just in case."
Foca flipped to the page.
Receipts.
Messages.
Names blacked out, timelines laid bare.
Tuesday leaned in. Luca followed.
Their eyes widened—anger, disbelief, and something uglier settling in.
"…That's fucked up," Luca muttered.
Tuesday exhaled slowly. "That's not just industry bullshit. That's cruelty."
Foca closed the binder with a soft thud.
And just like that, the meeting wasn't just business anymore.
"Is the reason those chats aren't making rounds right now because of the nepo baby?" Luca asked.
He already knew the answer. His gut had screamed it the moment Hyouka started talking—but still, he asked anyway.
"Yup," Hyouka replied without missing a beat. "Kang Seo-yul has reportedly sent innocent people to prison just for going against him. Money talks. Even when the person holding it is absolute, bottom-of-the-barrel scum."
"Oh. My. God," Tuesday breathed out, one hand coming up to her mouth.
"And unfortunately," Hyouka continued, tone darkening, "it doesn't end there."
Everyone went quiet.
"If it wasn't already obvious—Genesis Project was rigged from the very beginning. The whole thing was an elaborate farce designed to make Kang Seo-yul—and a few of his chosen buddies—shine. The rest of the trainees?" She scoffed. "They were just circus animals. Dancing. Smiling. Performing on command."
She flipped another page.
"A former staff member admitted everything on Bluit. Said they couldn't live with the guilt anymore. Detailed how rankings were pre-decided. How screen time was manipulated. How eliminations were scripted."
Tuesday swallowed. "Let me guess. The post disappeared."
"Promptly," Hyouka nodded. "Taken down within hours. The staff member was arrested shortly after… and later died in prison. Official cause? An alleged brawl."
Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
"Not many people saw the post," Hyouka said quietly. "But I did. I documented everything before it vanished. Screenshots. Metadata. Timestamps. I kept it buried because…" She exhaled. "I didn't want to be next."
No one judged her. Not a single one.
"So," Hyouka said, straightening slightly, forcing her tone lighter even though the room felt colder, "TL;DR—Genesis Project is rigged. LEAVEN is hated by braindead netizens. August was abused and taken advantage of. And all of it was spearheaded by one chaebol nepo-baby, manchild, spoiled-brat named Kang Seo-yul."
"…Do we know who he's related to?" Tuesday asked slowly.
"It's not public," Hyouka replied, "but according to the former contestant—he's the second child of Hwarang Motors' head."
"Hwarang Motors?" Foca repeated.
There was recognition there.
"Yep," Hyouka nodded. "One of the pillars of South Korea's economy."
Foca let out a soft laugh.
It was… amused.
Everyone stared at him.
"Oh—apologies," Foca said lightly. "I just found it funny."
"Funny?" Hyouka echoed, confused. "How?"
"That a so-called pillar of the economy," Foca continued calmly, "can crumble so easily."
"…Huh?" Hyouka blinked. "Crumble—how?"
"It just so happens," Foca said, folding his hands together, "that I know most of Hwarang Motors' top investors and shareholders."
The room froze.
"One phone call," he went on, voice smooth as silk, "and they'd pull out their investments and shares in one fell swoop."
Dead silence.
"…Um," Hyouka said slowly, eyes flicking between the others, "am I missing something?"
Luca leaned back, lips curling into a wicked little smirk.
"Oh, dear Miss Personal Assistant," he said sweetly, "you still have a lot to learn."