Genius Manager: I Can Make All Girls Talented!

The villa was quieter after Matt's departure, but it was not peace that settled over the walls—it was tension, thick and coiled like a storm cloud biding its time.

The sun broke slowly over the horizon, bleeding pale orange into the soft blue of early morning. The warmth creeping across the stone floors of the villa did little to thaw the mood among the residents. In the wake of the elimination vote, no one quite knew where they stood. For all their shared beds and tangled desires, an unspoken hierarchy had cracked.

Darius sat alone on the back patio, a blanket of silence wrapped around him. The faint scent of night-blooming jasmine still clung to the air, and dew coated the edges of the wrought-iron furniture. He nursed a mug of black coffee, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the far edge of the lawn where the ocean met the cliffs.

Yuna appeared behind him, barefoot and silent in a pale silk robe. Her hair was still damp from the shower, a waterfall of ink trailing down her back. She watched him for a moment, her presence tentative for once.

"You're thinking too hard," she said finally, settling beside him.

"I didn't want it to be him," Darius said. His voice was steady, but his jaw was tense. "Not like that."

"They forced your hand."

He nodded. He didn't deny it.

"The panel is playing a different game now," Yuna added. "They're trying to break us from the inside. You, especially."

"Let them try," he murmured, setting down his mug. "We hold together, or we let them win."

She leaned against him, head on his shoulder. The warmth of her body was grounding. "Then we hold."

Inside, the girls moved like magnets caught in the same field, drawn together yet wary. Emma sat at the kitchen island, slicing fruit with mechanical precision. Alicia leaned over the sink, sipping water slowly. Avery stood by the fridge, arms crossed, her eyes tracking every movement in the room.

"Feels like we're waiting for something," Alicia said quietly.

"We are," Avery replied. "Another twist. Another little fire the producers throw in to keep us guessing."

Emma stabbed a piece of mango and popped it into her mouth. "They want us to fight. That much is clear. But I'm not giving them the satisfaction."

Alicia looked up. "What if we didn't just hold the line? What if we made them regret pushing us?"

Avery arched a brow. "You mean turn the game on them?"

"Exactly."

A silence followed, not empty, but thoughtful. The girls weren't just pawns in someone else's production—they were co-conspirators now. And maybe something stronger than jealousy or competition was forming. Not unity, not yet. But the beginning of something resilient.

That afternoon, the panel's voice echoed through the villa again, rich with feigned neutrality.

"Congratulations. You survived your first elimination. But remember, this is only the beginning. Tonight, we air the footage from last night—unedited. Live reactions will follow. And America is watching."

The screen cut to black.

"They're throwing us to the wolves," Avery muttered.

"Let them try," Darius said, stepping into the room with Yuna close behind. He looked at each of them in turn. "We handle this together. No one panics."

"Define 'handle,'" Emma said.

"We control the narrative," Yuna said smoothly. "We play their game better than they do."

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted again—a collective straightening of backs, a tightening of bonds. The house had survived the first blow. Now it would learn to fight back.

Outside, the villa glowed under the falling sun, golden and serene. But inside, beneath the curated beauty and calm, something stronger was rising: resolve, and the promise of retribution.

***

The morning air in the villa was heavy, not with heat, but with something far more dangerous—resentment.

It crept in through the windows with the golden sun, settled in the corners of the shared bedroom, and clung to the walls like smoke from a fire that hadn't quite gone out. For the first time in days, Darius woke up alone. Yuna had slipped out sometime before dawn, and though her scent still lingered on his sheets, her presence did not.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The silence felt unfamiliar—almost hostile.

From the hallway, he could hear muted voices. Not playful laughter. Not teasing banter. Quiet, sharp whispers. Too low to decipher, but tense enough to set his instincts alight.

He got dressed in silence, choosing a loose linen shirt and dark joggers, his mind already spinning through the events of the past few days. The solo night with Yuna had triggered a shift in the group dynamics that no one—not even the producers—could fully predict. What had once been playful jealousy was hardening into something colder. And the cameras, ever-hungry, had not missed a second of it.

When he walked into the kitchen, he found only Emma, already dressed in a robe, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. She looked radiant, even with sleep barely chased off her face, but the look she gave him was... distant.

She didn't say good morning.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, grabbing a mug.

She shrugged. "Outside. Talking."

Darius frowned. "Talking about what?"

Emma didn't answer right away. She sipped her juice, then finally looked at him. "Us."

He blinked. "Us?"

"This entire thing," she clarified, voice cool. "You, Yuna, the solo night. The way you acted like the rest of us weren't even in the room."

Darius exhaled through his nose. "I didn't mean to make anyone feel ignored."

Emma leaned forward against the island, eyes fixed on him. "Intent doesn't matter in here. Impact does."

The words sat heavy in the air. Before he could reply, the glass doors to the backyard opened, and Avery, Alicia, and Yuna walked in—followed by, surprisingly, Matt.

All four of them looked like they had just returned from a war council.

Yuna's gaze flicked to Darius, softening slightly, but she said nothing. Alicia didn't look at him at all.

Avery was the one who broke the tension.

"We've decided something," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

Darius raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"The girls," she said. "All of us. Even the ones who aren't here right now."

He leaned back against the counter. "I'm listening."

"We want transparency," Avery continued. "No more private nights. No more one-on-one trips unless everyone agrees. And no more secret alliances."

Darius blinked, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Secret alliances?"

Yuna shot Avery a glare, but the blonde didn't flinch. "It's what it looks like, Darius. You might think you're keeping it fair, but right now? It feels like you're choosing. And in here? That's dangerous."

There was a pause. Alicia added quietly, "We all signed up to share you. But you need to remember what that means. Equal time. Equal connection. Equal effort."

He looked between the women, then over at Matt, who stood awkwardly at the edge of the group. His expression was unreadable, but his presence said enough.

"You're staging a coup," Darius said finally, voice low.

Avery lifted her chin. "We're drawing a line."

Silence stretched.

Then Darius chuckled. "Alright. Let's do this your way."

They all blinked, surprised.

"But if I play fair," he added, "so do you. That means honesty. No sulking. No secret punishments. If something's wrong, say it. If you're jealous, admit it. I can handle fire. I just need to know when it's burning."

Yuna stepped forward, eyes sharp. "And no more lies to the producers. If someone's feeding them drama just to stay relevant—cut it out."

That, clearly, was aimed at Matt.

Matt looked away.

Alicia gave a tight nod. "Fine."

Avery glanced at the others, then said, "Deal."

Emma stepped forward too, her robe falling slightly open to reveal the curve of her hip. "Then let's see how you do, lover boy."

Darius smirked. "I'll remind you why I'm worth the fight."

The tension cracked slightly—like the first breeze after a storm. But it wasn't gone. Just... momentarily redirected.

***

The morning air in the villa was heavy, not with heat, but with something far more dangerous—resentment.

It crept in through the windows with the golden sun, settled in the corners of the shared bedroom, and clung to the walls like smoke from a fire that hadn't quite gone out. For the first time in days, Darius woke up alone. Yuna had slipped out sometime before dawn, and though her scent still lingered on his sheets, her presence did not.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The silence felt unfamiliar—almost hostile.

From the hallway, he could hear muted voices. Not playful laughter. Not teasing banter. Quiet, sharp whispers. Too low to decipher, but tense enough to set his instincts alight.

He got dressed in silence, choosing a loose linen shirt and dark joggers, his mind already spinning through the events of the past few days. The solo night with Yuna had triggered a shift in the group dynamics that no one—not even the producers—could fully predict. What had once been playful jealousy was hardening into something colder. And the cameras, ever-hungry, had not missed a second of it.

When he walked into the kitchen, he found only Emma, already dressed in a robe, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. She looked radiant, even with sleep barely chased off her face, but the look she gave him was... distant.

She didn't say good morning.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, grabbing a mug.

She shrugged. "Outside. Talking."

Darius frowned. "Talking about what?"

Emma didn't answer right away. She sipped her juice, then finally looked at him. "Us."

He blinked. "Us?"

"This entire thing," she clarified, voice cool. "You, Yuna, the solo night. The way you acted like the rest of us weren't even in the room."

Darius exhaled through his nose. "I didn't mean to make anyone feel ignored."

Emma leaned forward against the island, eyes fixed on him. "Intent doesn't matter in here. Impact does."

The words sat heavy in the air. Before he could reply, the glass doors to the backyard opened, and Avery, Alicia, and Yuna walked in—followed by, surprisingly, Matt.

All four of them looked like they had just returned from a war council.

Yuna's gaze flicked to Darius, softening slightly, but she said nothing. Alicia didn't look at him at all.

Avery was the one who broke the tension.

"We've decided something," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

Darius raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"The girls," she said. "All of us. Even the ones who aren't here right now."

He leaned back against the counter. "I'm listening."

"We want transparency," Avery continued. "No more private nights. No more one-on-one trips unless everyone agrees. And no more secret alliances."

Darius blinked, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Secret alliances?"

Yuna shot Avery a glare, but the blonde didn't flinch. "It's what it looks like, Darius. You might think you're keeping it fair, but right now? It feels like you're choosing. And in here? That's dangerous."

There was a pause. Alicia added quietly, "We all signed up to share you. But you need to remember what that means. Equal time. Equal connection. Equal effort."

He looked between the women, then over at Matt, who stood awkwardly at the edge of the group. His expression was unreadable, but his presence said enough.

"You're staging a coup," Darius said finally, voice low.

Avery lifted her chin. "We're drawing a line."

Silence stretched.

Then Darius chuckled. "Alright. Let's do this your way."

They all blinked, surprised.

"But if I play fair," he added, "so do you. That means honesty. No sulking. No secret punishments. If something's wrong, say it. If you're jealous, admit it. I can handle fire. I just need to know when it's burning."

Yuna stepped forward, eyes sharp. "And no more lies to the producers. If someone's feeding them drama just to stay relevant—cut it out."

That, clearly, was aimed at Matt.

Matt looked away.

Alicia gave a tight nod. "Fine."

Avery glanced at the others, then said, "Deal."

Emma stepped forward too, her robe falling slightly open to reveal the curve of her hip. "Then let's see how you do, lover boy."

Darius smirked. "I'll remind you why I'm worth the fight."

The tension cracked slightly—like the first breeze after a storm. But it wasn't gone. Just... momentarily redirected.