The night ended not with laughter or conversation, but with the sound of collective stomachs grumbling in quiet frustration.
Though everyone had eaten earlier, their thoughts were haunted by the tantalizing aroma of Ross's mysterious meal.
No one had dared ask him for even a taste—not after the way they had treated him during dinner.
Too proud. Too afraid.
And so, one by one, the housemates retreated to their rooms, defeated not by a challenge, but by a scent.
They lay in their beds, eyes staring at the ceiling, minds spinning with guesses and imaginations.
Was it steak? Braised pork? Some kind of curry?
Whatever it was, it smelled like heaven.
Some even dreamed about it. One girl murmured in her sleep, "Just one bite…" Another turned over and sighed deeply, her stomach growling in sync.
It was ridiculous—and yet none of them could deny it. Ross had gotten under their skin… and into their heads.
