"Alright," Foca said calmly, folding his hands on the table. "Since everyone's agreed, I can promise you that Bread Music will spare no expense on this performance."
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Given that this will be your first public stage since debut… I'd suggest you show them exactly what you're capable of."
Tuesday gasped dramatically. "Ooooh. We going feral? I love it."
"There you have it, folks," Luca added, leaning back in his chair with a dangerous smile. "The sky's the limit. Make them understand what 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes' really means."
Now that? That hit.
Yone, the eldest and the quietly acknowledged leader of LEAVEN, rose to his feet.
"Thank you for trusting us with this opportunity," he said, voice steady and grounded. "We'll make Bread Music proud. We won't let you down."
Foca nodded once, approving. "That's all we ask."
He clapped his hands together lightly. "Meeting adjourned."
Yone turned immediately to the others, leader mode activated.
"Practice clothes. Dance studio. Ten minutes."
Then he added calmly—too calmly—
"For every minute you're late, you'll hold planks for five minutes."
Silence.
Yone's tone never changed. But everyone knew.
He meant it.
The moment the words left his mouth, Nikola was already halfway out the door.
No hesitation. No questions. Just gone.
Because Nikola had learned the hard way.
The last time he underestimated Yone's "light suggestion," he ended up doing roughly 300 sit-ups. And when we say roughly, we mean he dramatically collapsed at 247 and began bargaining with every higher power available.
His abs were sore for two days straight. Breathing hurt. Existing hurt.
On the bright side? The German menace walked away with abs so defined they had the girlies, the gays, and the gym bros respectfully losing composure.
Was it worth it?
According to Nikola—and I quote—
"HELL TO THE FUCKING NAH."
He complains loudly.
But privately?
He absolutely admires himself in the mirror.
At one unfortunate point, Leo borrowed his phone and accidentally discovered an entire hidden album of mirror selfies.
Leo, being a menace to society, sent them to the group chat.
Nikola has not known peace since.
So yes—when Yone mentioned "consequences," it triggered something primal.
Watching Nikola bolt was enough to send everyone scrambling after him like the IRS had just kicked the door down.
Absolute chaos.
As they sprinted down the hallway, Lili couldn't help but giggle at the sight—grown men running like they were trying to beat Usain Bolt's world record.
Ten minutes suddenly felt like life or death.
****
"Aren't you all zaking zhis a little zoo seriously?" Lili puffed as she ran beside Bobby. "Shouldn't we calm down?"
Bobby looked at her like she had just suggested they cancel oxygen.
Before he could answer—
"Girlie pop," Aqua cut in, scandalized, "what do you mean we? I don't understand French!"
He stared at her like she'd just committed a public relations crime.
With that expression, you'd think she'd just tweeted something career-ending.
"Gurl," Aqua continued dramatically, "you better shut that pretty French mouth of yours and keep running. Unless you wanna suffer the wrath of Yone and end up in his Death Note—eating apples while he watches you suffer."
"Death Note?" Lili blinked, equal parts confused and entertained.
"Mhm," Pink nodded gravely while sprinting. "You do not want your name in that notebook."
"Miha," Javi added gently, "don't ask too many questions, sí? Some knowledge is better left unknown."
That only made Lili more amused.
"Bitch!" Kitty yelped from ahead. "Stop talking about the thing that shall not be named! You're giving us bad juju!"
He clutched her bag dramatically.
"Do you know how hard it is to do my skincare and makeup in ten minutes?! I'm basically going out naked! I guess I'll settle for natural beauty realness today."
He picked up speed like survival depended on it.
The hallway was pure chaos—footsteps pounding, threats flying, dramatic anime-level fear.
Meanwhile—
Back in the conference room, Foca, Luca, Tuesday, and Hyouka were left chuckling.
"So the rumors are true," Luca said slowly, eyeing Yone. "Does that mean the infamous black notebook is real too?"
Yone, already in his practice clothes like the overachieving boy scout he was, paused.
Without a word, he reached into his duffle bag.
And pulled out a small black notebook.
He held it up with a perfectly innocent smile.
"You mean this, sir?"
Tuesday wheezed.
Hyouka physically recoiled. "I don't even want to know what's written in that. Just looking at it gives me the heebie-jeebies."
Luca laughed. "Don't go too hard on them, okay?"
Yone tilted his head slightly.
"How hard is too hard, sir?"
"Oof," Tuesday cackled. "He got you there."
"Stop being a smartass," Luca replied, though he was clearly amused. "You know what I mean."
Yone's smile widened just a fraction. "Touché."
Foca stepped forward, his tone softening.
"Yone. Please continue taking good care of the younger ones."
Yone straightened immediately.
"Absolutely, sir."
No hesitation. No joke. Just quiet resolve.
And with that, he slung his bag over his shoulder, gave a polite nod, and headed toward the dance studio—
Where a pack of overdramatic, mildly terrified artists were currently fighting for their lives against a ten-minute deadline.
****
Tuesday let out a soft sigh, watching the hallway chaos through the glass.
"Them kids really are good kids," she said fondly.
Mind you—most of them were her age.
"They do be, Grandma," Luca replied without missing a beat.
Silence.
Tuesday slowly turned her head.
"Excuse me?" she said, lifting one perfectly manicured finger. Her neck did that thing. The stare locked in. Lips pursed.
It was the look.
The one that meant: you have chosen violence.
"Baby girl," Tuesday said calmly, already slipping off her earrings, "hold these for me. I'm about to whoop some manners into this mothafucka."
Hyouka accepted the earrings immediately, like this was a sacred ritual.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Luca yelped, scrambling behind Foca. "Foca! Save your best friend!"
"Leave me out of this," Foca said serenely. "You did, in fact, mess up."
"What?!" Luca gasped. "You're supposed to be on my side!"
"Open rebuke is better than secret love," Foca replied smoothly, quoting his mother.
And listen—everyone knew Leonor was the picture of elegance.
But when it came to discipline?
Designer slipper or not, in the hands of a Filipino mother, that thing became a guided missile.
Foca had survived many such missiles in his youth.
Meanwhile, Tuesday was absolutely giving Luca a lecture about respect while he peeked from behind Foca like a coward.
In the background—
Hyouka had somehow manifested pom-poms.
"Be aggressive! Be-be aggressive! Wooo!" she chanted, doing high kicks like she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Foca, the only adult in the room (allegedly), calmly pulled out his phone and made a call.
When the line connected, his tone was gentle as ever.
"Elizabeth, please have Steffi Hatungimana from A&R and Mythical from Production meet the artists in the dance studio. They'll need to discuss their upcoming performance."
"Right away, sir," Elizabeth replied promptly.
"Thank you."
He ended the call.
Just like that, the chaos softened.
The teasing stopped. The laughter settled.
Because now?
It was war.
Downstairs, the artists were preparing for the performance of a lifetime.
And upstairs—
Foca, Luca, Tuesday, and Hyouka would soon be meeting with his Father, Vincent and his older siblings, Jonathan and Pearl.
The conversation?
Not about choreography.
Not about lighting.
But about what to do with Hwarang Motors.
Because sabotaging rookie artists was one thing.
Messing with Bread Music?
That was a very expensive mistake.
****
PS — I'm so sorry for disappearing for a while! I got swept up in the chaos of job hunting (adulting is hard, 0/10 recommend 😭).
Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with me. It truly means the world.