The announcement dropped at noon.
No warning. No explanation.
Just a screen in the main hall lighting up with bold pink letters:
FAN FAVORITE POLL – LIVE RESULTS
The girls gathered, some eager, some wary.
Ren stood in the back, silent.
The screen flickered — then revealed the rankings:
1st – Vanessa (94%)
2nd – Madison (83%)
3rd – Emily (78%)
4th – Riley (72%)
5th – Brooke (65%)
6th – Naomi (58%)
7th – Zoe (52%)
8th – Harper (39%)
9th – Ivy (33%)
Ivy stared at the bottom of the list. No reaction. No blink.
Just silence.
Zoe crossed her arms. "Guess fake girlfriends aren't as charming as real ones."
Madison smirked. "Or you just need a better editor."
Vanessa didn't even look at the screen.
She was already watching everyone else's reactions.
Brooke scoffed. "These votes are just for show."
Naomi replied quietly, "No. They're part of the experiment."
Ren looked over.
"Meaning?"
Naomi didn't turn toward him.
"Public perception isn't just a number. It's leverage."
That night, Ivy sat alone in the garden. No camera followed her.
Until she picked up a rock.
Carved something into the bench.
And whispered: "They're watching the wrong story."
She didn't cry.
She just disappeared back into the shadows.
—
Meanwhile, in the control room, one producer watched the stats roll in.
"Ivy's crashing," one of them said. "Might be time to retire her."
Another voice: "Let her linger. The quiet ones break best under pressure."
—
Ren never saw that conversation.
But he felt it.
Like something important was being erased in real time.