"Good morning."
His voice was smooth, yet it carried a resonance that commanded an immediate, heavy silence. "I am Zero, Lead Operator of Clover. I am well aware of the grueling work you've put in for this month's debut."
Thirteen girls nodded in unison, their anticipation thrumming like a live wire.
"However," Zero paused, letting the hope hang in the air just long enough for it to feel fragile before he shattered it. "Your debut next month... is cancelled."
The room went tomb-quiet, followed by a collective, stifled gasp. Shock painted every face. A dream they had bled for, snatched away without a word of explanation. Zero watched the anxiety swell, relishing the control. He kept the truth—that his own unfinished studies barred him from the CEO's chair—buried behind a mask of professional apathy.
"In its place," Zero continued, his tone shifting into something more pragmatic, "the quarantine will transition into a new phase. We call it: Survival Idol."
He tapped a control panel. A bold, aggressive title flashed onto the screen behind him.
"For the next six months, training is no longer enough. You must earn public approval. Grades will be issued and broadcast weekly. And every month, the candidate at the bottom of the polls will be eliminated."
The air in the room grew thick, suffocating. To these young girls, this wasn't a talent show; it was a declaration of war. Rena felt her jaw set. This sudden shift felt like a cage closing in, but she was already too deep to jump.
After the briefing, a staffer in a crisp black uniform intercepted Rena, guiding her away from the whispering crowd toward a secluded office at the end of the hall. The room felt more like a diplomat's sanctuary than a talent agency.
Zero was waiting, reclined in a single-seater sofa. He gestured to the seat across from him.
"Welcome, Rena," he said, his pleasantry clipped and efficient.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice clipped with ice. She wasn't hiding her disdain for his 'unprofessional' pivot.
Zero ignored her tone. He leaned forward, dropping his volume even though the room was soundproof. "I'm going to tell you something the others aren't ready to hear. Beyond the future of Rich City, I built CLOVER as a safety net for the Loyalist Faction."
He paused, testing her pulse with a look.
"Under this survival system, each Faction family can 'sponsor' a candidate. Naturally, this comes with massive financial backing. These contributions—not the fans—will dictate who stays. The public vote? That's just window dressing."
Rena's heart dropped. Her eyes demanded an answer. "Why play it this way?"
Zero returned to that infuriatingly calm smile. "Let's be realistic, Rena. CLOVER is a titan in the making. We need capital—blood money—to launch a corporation of this scale. We're simply cutting a piece of the pie for the Loyalists who backed Prime Minister Daniel."
Rena's mind raced. Her mother was a royal physician, not a noble with a factional seat. She was an orphan in a room full of heiresses. Finding a sponsor was an impossible task.
"What if the fan votes are undeniable?" Rena asked, her voice trembling with the last of her hope. "But the faction support is zero?"
Zero leaned back, measuring her from head to toe with a strange, predatory interest.
"If it's you," he answered, his voice thick with absolute authority, "I might consider it."
Rena scoffed. It was an empty promise, a scrap thrown from his table. But the way he looked at her... it set a fire in her gut. She would take that center position by any means necessary. That was the leverage she needed.
Later that evening, the long corridors of the Clover dorms felt like a tomb. Rena retreated from the frantic whispers of the other girls, seeking a corner of the balcony to make a call.
The line connected. The warm, frantic energy of Nadia, her best friend, flooded the speaker.
"Rena! Tell me everything! I need to mark the debut on my calendar!"
Rena leaned against the cold marble wall, closing her eyes. "The debut's off, Nad."
Silence. Then, an explosion.
"What?! Cancelled?! Are they insane? They worked you like a dog for a year! Tell me this isn't some scam agency!"
"Quiet down," Rena whispered. "It's not cancelled—not exactly. They've turned it into a survival show. Six months. Monthly eliminations."
Nadia groaned. "What kind of garbage system is that? They're using you! Just walk away, Rena."
"They gave us three days to go home and decide," Rena explained, her voice heavy. "But there's a catch. If we quit, we owe a 'termination fee.' The number is... astronomical. No one is leaving, Nad. We're all trapped."
Nadia went silent, the weight of the financial debt finally sinking in. "Always the same... all they care about is the damn money."
"That's why I have to win." Rena offered a ghost of a smile. "I did this for my mother. I'm staying. Besides, they're handling my schooling. That's why you let me sign up, remember?"
Nadia exhaled sharply, conceding. "Fine. If you're going into the wolf's den, make sure you're the smartest wolf there. When are you coming home?"
"Friday to Sunday. I need a break from being a robot."
"A break? You're getting a feast. You're sleeping in your old bed and eating every snack they banned you from having. I'll see you Friday."
"See you then, Nad."
Rena hung up, the weight on her shoulders lifting, if only by an inch.
JUNGLE DISTRICT: THE SHADOW COUNCIL
Deep in the Peru Sector of the Jungle District, a hidden villa sat in deceptive tranquility. Inside, a long table was set with seven luxury chairs. Six faced each other; one stood at the head.
The room was vast, but the tension made it feel cramped.
Count Erwin, a man who looked younger than his thirty years but possessed a chillingly calculated aura, sat in silence. Across from him, the Marquis brothers, Gon and Ken, waited with twin sneers. Three chairs remained empty—a haunting reminder of the power vacuum left by Baron Frey.
The heavy doors groaned open. Zero walked in.
He was the youngest person in the room, but he carried a gravity that dwarfed the veterans. In a navy suit so dark it was almost black, he looked every bit the perfect politician—polished, calm, and dangerous. He took the head of the table.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Zero began. "Where are the others?"
Marquis Ken shifted awkwardly. "Two members have withdrawn from the faction. Since the Baron Frey incident... they feel the threat has become too personal."
Zero's lip curled into a cynical smirk. "A calculated threat. This meeting was meant to provide the long-term solution. I'm here to introduce the corporation that will shield the Loyalist Faction. Financial and political security, under a single command."
Count Erwin nodded slowly. "Collective strength under one umbrella."
"Precisely." Zero's eyes locked onto the three empty chairs. As a man taught by the Prime Minister himself to loathe wasted resources, he despised the vacancy. "As I mentioned, this corporation requires a significant initial injection of capital. And the most elegant way to raise funds while rewarding your loyalty is through a certain project..."
"...The CLOVER Survival Idol."