Lina's phone didn't stop vibrating.
Her video from the Audience Choice Challenge had crossed 12 million views in less than 24 hours.
She had sponsors now.
Real ones.
Brands she used to dream about.
Kael's team had preemptively filtered the offers—none that could be used to trap her in long-term manipulation contracts. She didn't even have to ask.
She noticed.
But didn't say anything.
Not yet.
---
The next challenge was a costume performance—each contestant was assigned a character and had to act out a scene with only a single prop.
Lina's role?
A blind swordswoman seeking revenge.
The prop?
A red silk ribbon.
She smiled.
Too perfect.
---
During rehearsal, she stood on stage blindfolded, ribbon tied over her eyes, and moved by instinct.
Every slash of her imaginary blade was precise.
Too precise.
The director clapped once. "You've done this before?"
She pulled off the blindfold slowly. "I've had practice fighting things I couldn't see."
Kael, watching from the shadows behind the lighting booth, didn't look away once.
---
The performance aired live.
Lina didn't speak the lines as written.
She rewrote them.
"I am not here to avenge my sight. I am here to remind you that pain sharpens what sight never could."
Her final movement—a spin, a whip of the ribbon, and a collapse to her knees—froze the room.
People didn't clap.
They just stared.
Until the host whispered, "That wasn't acting."
---
After the show, Kael sent her a message.
> You don't have to bleed to be seen, Vale.
She replied:
> But bleeding works, doesn't it?
He didn't answer.
But she felt the pull of him more than ever.
---
Meanwhile, Mira sat across from Sora in a dark cafe.
"She's outpacing all of us," Sora muttered.
Mira stirred her tea, calm. "That's why we don't race her."
"Then what?"
"We reroute her."