Confrontation Segment
Stamford, Connecticut—home to WWO headquarters—had been in an uproar since the night before.
Some people had scrambled to pay for TPA just so they could watch Charina’s match, but far more had not. And even those who had seen it found the information on her painfully thin.
At best they knew she was twenty years old, 166 centimeters, 50 kilograms, and a second-generation Korean immigrant. That was all.
So they flooded the WWO homepage, demanding the company release more information at once.
In the office of CCO Paul Levesque, only the head of the legal team was present for a brief exchange of views.
“The impact is bigger than we expected.”
“She demolished Ahmed. Of course it is. Even I was shocked watching Charina’s match on TPA—imagine everyone else.”
“True. I never thought she’d lift Ahmed that easily… I don’t think I could do it that cleanly anymore.”
“What’s this weak talk from the great Triple J?”
“Say whatever you want—I still couldn’t lift him that easily. I’m staring sixty in the face.”
“Tch.”
Miura Erickson clicked his tongue, drained his coffee, and changed the subject.
“Paul. Didn’t we build that Charina kid up a little too much? At this rate TPA might actually survive.”
“Probably. The PC crowd is losing their minds, and the feminists are flipped upside down. Wall-to-wall praise.”
“Hey. Is that something you just nod along to? All the paperwork I stayed up nights preparing for days is about to become worthless. You know how much I hate it when something I’ve prepared falls apart…”
For some time now Miura had been working under Stacey’s orders on the documents for TPA’s absorption and merger.
Paul propped both feet on the desk and leaned back comfortably in his chair.
“It’s over.”
“Over? What’s over?”
“Bruce Stevenson, their owner. He’s an even bigger idiot than we thought. A few days ago he put up his entire stake as collateral and borrowed emergency cash from the bank. Said he was investing in a new public offering.”
“So? If Bruce pays it back, that’s the end of it.”
“You’d think so. But—”
Paul tossed a file across the desk at Miura.
“The company is called Fine Signature. Stacey looked into it—pure bubble. Bruce is going to end up a beggar. If he invested, he’ll never pay it back.”
Miura flipped through the file at speed.
“He put money into a company this stupid? Has that bastard completely lost his mind?”
“It’s all inherited wealth. Not a single dollar he sweated for. On top of the divorce stress and the money getting tight, his field of vision narrowed.”
“If Overdia had known, he would’ve stopped him for sure.”
“According to the bank, money problems drove a wedge between them. Bruce’s pride was probably involved too.”
Miura understood perfectly. Even family gets awkward once money enters the picture; add pride and it becomes nearly impossible for a subordinate to stay in contact.
“So what about Stacey?”
“She went straight to the bank to buy the stake, of course. Offering to take a risky bond off their hands at a premium? The bank wanted to meet her immediately. Pull in one or two more major shareholders and we clear fifty percent. Once that happens—”
Paul stopped, then clapped his hands hard.
Clap.
“Game over.”
Miura burst out laughing at the words.
“Puhaha! That’s Stacey for you. Blood doesn’t lie. Poor Karl Overdia, though—killing himself trying to keep TPA alive.”
“Karl isn’t a bad general manager, but failing to choose the right owner is its own kind of incompetence.”
“Then we just park Karl in an even more incompetent seat.”
“I’ll have to think about that one. More importantly, I’d like my friend to start getting a little hungry for a bigger chair.”
“You mean John?”
The people Paul openly called “friend” could be counted on one hand. And the only person who fit the current situation—the one still turning down high positions—was John Michaels.
“Yeah. From what I saw this time, he seemed a little stimulated…”
“One rookie girl completely flips the board. We’re the ones saying thank you.”
“Right? I want to see her in person soon.”
“And do what when you do?”
“If she doesn’t freeze up looking at me—if she can speak her mind with real backbone—then we let her challenge Bronn Rest’s record.”
Bronn Rest held only one record on the WWO books.
“Don’t tell me—shortest time from debut to championship?”
“And youngest, though only among the women…”
“Paul. That’s going too far.”
At Miura’s objection Paul waved a hand.
“Looks, skill, and she can act. Plus every social group that loves to pick fights with us gets to see how WWO has changed. Isn’t that fun? A wrestler cheered by the PC crowd and the feminists… Hahaha. Two days ago I couldn’t have imagined it.”
The revealing outfits might have grated on their eyes, but a woman overwhelming men had the feminists in ecstasy, and the fact that she was Asian had the PC crowd singing WWO’s praises.
“Most of all, my little princesses are completely crazy about Charina.”
“Oh, for crying out loud… What a hopeless girl-dad…”
“I want to be a good father for once—what am I supposed to do? Besides, doesn’t everyone win except Bruce and Karl? Hahaha.”
At that, Miura had nothing left to say.
Achieve 100,000 StarStar followers.
(SUCCESS)
The moment I woke up, the quest success message was waiting for me.
This time the reward was one Lower-Grade Scenario Revision Ticket.
Better than I expected.
This linked quest… how many for the next one? A million for intermediate? Ten million for advanced?
I waited to see if another quest alarm would pop up, but nothing came.
Hmm. Maybe I just have to wait a little longer.
I put away a simple breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast and headed straight to TPA.
“Charina. I saw the match yesterday. It was the best.”
“Thank you.”
The security guard at the entrance spat that out instead of a normal greeting the second he saw me, then looked me up and down.
Male instinct—I get it. Still feels lousy, though.
The funny part was that even while I felt that way, a weird pride stirred underneath, and I wanted to show off even more.
Sigh. Guess I have to get used to these looks.
:
:
Do you know what day it is?
—No idea!—
Standing dead center in the ring and opening the show was the Women’s World Champion, Anne Clements.
That’s cold. Today marks four months since I became champion…
Anne played a mild heel, but she never cheated and she never protected herself in the action, so she was still pretty popular.
The words “four months” drew an immediate cheer from the crowd.
Thanks for the congratulations.
“Get ready to go in.”
I nodded at producer Ben Hercules’s cue.
Everyone knows Dorothy lost last week, right?
—Yes—
Screaming and crying like a ten-year-old, trapped in that weird submission… Watching that, I understood something.
—What?!—
Whether they had plants in the crowd or not, the reactions were excellent.
That for at least the next year I’m keeping this title. That no one can stop me. That I’m a living legend…
—Boo! Boo!—
—Yeah! Yeah!—
A mix of boos and cheers.
“Charina. Go.”
“Stay calm, just like the other day!”
The producer’s words were followed immediately by the general manager’s.
Ha! What’s with the booing? So who can challenge me? Olivia? Elizabeth? Nata—
—Zing. Zzzzing. Zzzing.—
My theme song cut Anne off at the perfect moment.
The second the guitar riff hit, the crowd exploded.
—Woooah!—
—Charina! Charina!—
Walk slowly and gather their eyes—don’t ride the board out today.
Jane’s right. High-five the fans on the way out.
Following producer Ben Hercules and Jane’s instructions from before the entrance, I high-fived the fans along the aisle and walked the ramp at a deliberate pace.
I gave a little smile to Anne, who was glaring at me for cutting her off, and stepped into the ring.
“Hey! Who the hell are you?”
“Just listening. It was getting interesting.”
“What? What was interesting?”
Anne took a step forward, face flushing red.
“Calm down, Champion. A champion who’s held on for four months gets worked up way too easy.”
The crowd laughed. Anne took a step back and put on a stern face.
“Hmph!”
Wow. Look at that acting.
Seeing it live, she was far better than the recent promo videos.
If she’s this good, how good is the troublemaker Natasha Blancherd—the one they call the best actor in TPA? And the real actors over in WWO must be on another planet entirely.
I need acting classes more than dance classes for the shorts. No choice—I’m signing up for an acting academy right away.
“Anne. You made eight successful defenses in four months. No one can deny you’re the champion. That’s impressive.”
Anne’s lips curved in a small, pleased smile.
I kept going while looking at her.
“No need to even mention the moonsault. The tumbling elbow, the shocker kick… and that spinning reverse STO is ridiculous. Someone with a neck as thin as mine might actually break it. It’s a terrifying, powerful move.”
“I thought some rookie was just butting in for no reason, but you actually know a few things. You’re right. Almost nobody survives my Death Spiral into moonsault combo.”
I smiled at her reply.
“Funny thing, though. Among those few who have, there’s Olivia… and Dorothy. And me? I beat both of them.”
“What?”
“Am I wrong?”
Anne’s face went red again.
How does she even do that on command?
“So what exactly are you trying to say?”
“You know what I did the other day? I went over and wrecked NEXT. The men’s champion Joshua and Ahmed both.”
The resentment toward NEXT clearly wasn’t limited to the front office and the roster. The crowd’s roar got even louder.
“I put the 115-kilo Ahmed away with a K-Powerbomb and the champion Joshua with Dark Fall. Champion—how about it? Think you could do that? You can’t, can you? Heh.”
“You little… What do you want?”
I pointed with one fingertip at the “Emergency” banner hanging on the wall.
“I’ll say it straight. Let’s fight. At Emergency.”
“Ha! A three-week debut nobody? Kid, go take Elizabeth’s IC title first.”
“That so? Then make it a non-title match. If you’re scared, nothing I can do about it.”
“You bitch! Who the hell are you calling scared? Fine! Title match it is!”
—Woooah!—
—Anne! Anne!—
—Charina!—
Anne glanced at the crowd’s reaction and stepped even closer.
“But it’s a cage match. How about it? Think you can handle that?”
“A cage match? Pfft. You thought that would scare me? Anne—did you forget whose student I am? I’m a student of the Dudley Boys.”
I paused again to let the crowd react.
“I’ll take the cage match—and we do it TLC. Naturally No DQ. Can you handle that?”
“You crazy bitch! You don’t know me at all. Fine. I’ll kill you completely.”
That was when the general manager walked out to the entrance.
“Whoa, whoa! You two don’t get to decide that on your own. That’s not happening.”
—Boooo!—
“Karl! Shut up! If you don’t book it, I’ll terminate my contract!”
“What? Anne, isn’t that a little harsh?”
—Anne! Anne!—
“I need to teach this thunder-brained brat just how scary TPA really is. Karl—what’s it going to be? You booking it or not?”
“General Manager Overdia. I want to face Anne too.”
“Ha! Both of you doing whatever you want. Looking down on the general manager. Fine. But hardcore rules are added. Live or die in that ring—your problem.”
With that the general manager disappeared backstage, and I left the arena as well.
Back at Gorilla Position.
“Good work. But you talk too fast. Slow it down a little.”
“Yes, sir.”
Anne returned as well.
“Not bad… That smirking face of yours was genuinely annoying, though.”
“Thank you. By the way—how do you make your face go red like that?”
At the question, Anne, Jane, and even the producer all looked at me with open suspicion.
“What? You don’t know?”
“They didn’t teach you that at the academy?”
“Huh?”
“You just hold your breath.”
“Ah.”
Damn. It was that simple.
“Ha. If she doesn’t know, Selma and Alf probably don’t either. Ugh. How does the academy not teach something this basic?”
“Jane. Check the kids on the fundamentals. Odds are high they’re missing other things too.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sigh. I nailed the segment and still got caught on something like this.
I went up to the ring dressed roughly like this. Just get the vibe.