Cue the Commercial!
Thunderous cheers and applause erupted inside the editing suite.
Staff members threw their arms around one another with tears in their eyes, looking even more overwhelmed with emotion than if they had just received tidings of total victory in the Hundred Years' War. Over the past month, the grueling, cutthroat shoot where twelve men and women bickered, flirted, and sparred at the Signal House on the outskirts of the imperial capital had finally wrapped without a single casualty. And after slicing and splicing through that mountain of footage day and night, a masterful cut engineered to wring every last drop of dopamine from the audience had at last been born into the world.
"Fantastic work, everyone! Tonight's wrap dinner is an all-you-can-eat feast at the Imperial Dining Hall. It's all going on the corporate card, so stuff yourselves to the brim!"
At my announcement, the crew roared in another deafening round of cheers.
And then arrived the long-awaited premiere of Episode 1.
Leading up to the main broadcast, there had been a slight change in the studio panel lineup. Originally, Sylvia, the elf Aedus, and I were slated to serve as the trio of commentators. However, with the Imperial Prime Minister managing the realm's domestic affairs and the deputy director running station operations, hosting a weekly variety show was simply impossible time-wise.
"Director, the two newly recruited panelists have arrived in the green room."
"Already? That was fast."
With Aedus positioned as the main MC, I had scouted two fresh broadcast talents to back him up. One was a noblewoman who held high society's gossip mill in the palm of her hand, and the other was a prominent stage actor from one of the Empire's most famous theater troupes. As a proper broadcasting network, this was also our opening salvo to draw in the veteran stage actors and comedians already working across the capital.
Gathered together in the IBS Studio to watch the Signal House, these three would serve as our official reaction squad—gasping, shrieking, and clutching the backs of their necks in shock on behalf of the viewers at home.
The single most critical factor, however, was security.
Aside from the crew present on set during Day 1, not a soul in the entire Empire knew what was inside this finished cut. Thanks to our ruthless crackdown on the employee who had leaked spoilers on the anonymous forum, which served as a crystal-clear warning to everyone else, not a single detail had slipped from the camera or editing teams. Without the faintest clue of how the cards had fallen or what drama had unfolded inside the house, the citizens of the Empire had waited for this night on the strength of a lone one-minute teaser.
"Director, ten minutes until broadcast."
Sylvia, freshly washed and sharply dressed in a tailored suit, stepped into the control booth to deliver her report.
"Status of the continental mana communication grid?"
"Zero latency. Signals are locked in seamlessly all the way to the farthest frontier fiefdoms. The current connection rate across public squares, taverns, and private estate displays is..." Sylvia scanned the telemetry on her monitor and swallowed dryly. "...it has surpassed eighty percent across the entire Empire. For all practical purposes, almost every living person in the realm is sitting in front of a screen."
Flawless.
"Commence countdown."
Settling into the main director's chair, I looked up at the towering central monitor. The second hand ticked steadily toward the top of the hour. A silence like death settled over the entire realm—the ten minutes before the tempest.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
"Imperial Men and Women, Episode 1. On air!"
At my command, Sylvia firmly threw the red transmission switch upward.
A low hum resonated as the station's dazzling logo flared across the studio's primary display. Immediately following was a heart-thumping orchestral score, swelling in grandeur as sweeping aerial vistas of the luxurious Signal House beamed out across the continent.
"Greetings, citizens of the Empire! I am your main host for Imperial Men and Women, the bard Aedus!"
Dressed in flamboyant stage attire, Aedus opened the broadcast with his trademark breezy smile. Beside him, an elegant middle-aged noblewoman in an antique, sophisticated gown gracefully unfurled her folding fan.
"A pleasure. I am Verna."
Countess Verna Sorvein, head of the Imperial Court's covert intelligence syndicate, the Owl Council. Holding the strings to every background investigation and hidden secret in the Empire, she was a woman who took immense pride in her ability to dissect the human psyche at a glance. Of course, whether that razor-sharp investigative acumen would hold up against the fickle, irrational mystery of romantic attraction was an entirely open question.
Finally, a tall, dashing man with breathtaking features turned toward the lens and flashed a killer wink.
"I am Damon, actor from the Empire's premier theater troupe, the Bell of Abundance! It is an absolute honor to witness this monumental broadcast alongside every one of you."
Damon.
He was the Empire's reigning superstar, having ignited a continent-wide sensation playing the late hero-emperor in the theatrical phenomenon The Flame That Lit the Darkness. His fame was so overwhelming that any out-of-towner who visited the capital and left without watching his performance was jokingly accused of being a foreign spy. Today, however, he was here to channel the raw, unvarnished emotions of the viewers and deliver explosive reactions.
With their brief introductions concluded, main MC Aedus thrust an arm dramatically toward the lens.
"And now, the moment you have all been waiting for! The true, tangled tale of twelve men and women entwined like threads of raw mana—Imperial Men and Women begins... right... NOW!"
From the moment the transmission began, the continent dissolved into an absolute frenzy of dopamine.
In the imperial capital's grand square, crowds stood packed so tightly before the giant magitech display that not an inch of stone remained visible. In back-alley taverns, rugged mercenaries with foamy tankards frozen in hand gaped slack-jawed at the screens. Even within the private sitting rooms of aristocratic manors, nobles of every age held their collective breath, transfixed by the unfolding spectacle.
The second the First Impression Selection concluded, the anonymous boards on the Forest of the Empire nearly buckled under an avalanche of real-time posts.
Leaving the runaway public opinion behind, Aedus erupted with breathless commentary on the screen.
"I... I cannot foresee a single step ahead! Where on earth are their hearts headed? A landslide of three whole votes during the first impression round?!"
Damon threw his arms wide with dramatic, stage-honed flair, matching his co-host's energy.
"I would have chosen Female 6 myself! She is utterly overwhelming—her presence, her beauty, her poise, and that sweet, thoughtful manner of speaking! That is the very essence of a first impression. It is hard to isolate a single reason, but when those qualities align, they hit you straight in the instincts. Female 1 is undeniably breathtaking as well, but... I do not believe she conveyed approachable charm the way Female 6 did."
"And that came down to a single difference in how she spoke! Wouldn't you agree?!"
"Precisely! Even a single sentence is more than enough to seal an initial impression!"
Countess Verna leveled a keen, hawkish gaze at the monitor, refusing to yield the floor.
"Hmm. For my part, I believe we must observe whether this is a deeply calculated ploy. She is exceedingly clever. Offering to carry luggage while subtly activating the men's protective instincts and establishing an air of humble warmth—it was a flawless opening gambit. However, if first impressions dictated everything, the very term 'human relationships' would be obsolete. The true battle begins now."
Aedus slapped his knee in theatrical accord.
"Indeed! Madame Verna's wisdom is beyond reproach! A first impression is merely that—an impression at the very beginning. How will the hearts of these imperial men and women shift after such an electrifying first vote? Let us continue watching!"
The screen cut away, revealing the second directive issued to the twelve contestants.
Prepare the First Dinner Together
The trouble began with the raw, unprocessed groceries strewn across the kitchen counters.
Because of the strict rule demanding that contestants conceal their true identities and abilities, everyday kitchen chores that could normally be handled in seconds using high-tier magic or precise sword aura had to be resolved through purely manual labor. Rosalyn, an archducal lady down to her bone marrow, recoiled in sheer disgust at an unplucked chicken and beat a hasty retreat to the corner. Meanwhile, Edgar, entirely forbidden from relying on his spells, nearly incinerated his own bangs while clumsily striking flint, creating absolute chaos in the hearth.
Though the contestants' faces flushed crimson with humiliation, their awkward fumbling endeared them immensely to the viewing public.
And as expected, the person who effortlessly brought order to the kitchen pandemonium was none other than Female 6, Marie.
Tucking back her sleeves and taking up the kitchen knife with practiced ease, her fluid, dazzling blade work left both the male contestants and the viewers watching at home completely spellbound. Once magnificent dishes and carafes of wine began gracing the long table, the icy, awkward tension among the young bachelors and bachelorettes melted into a warm, convivial buzz.
Watching the feed from the control booth, a broad grin spread across my lips.
Heh. Whether it's a high-fantasy empire or modern Earth, gather young, hot-blooded men and women in an enclosed space and pour alcohol into them, and this is always the result. Excellent. The real fireworks start right now.
As the night wore on and the wine flowed, the contestants' emotional wires began to tangle into a chaotic knot.
The first to make a bold move was Rosalyn, having drained three glasses of wine in rapid succession. Determined to wipe away the sting of her zero-vote humiliation, she pushed back her chair, swept up her goblet, and boldly dropped into the vacant seat directly beside Aaron.
Instantly, the camera zoomed in tight on the pair.
Resting her chin in one hand, Rosalyn tilted her head with a sharp, piercing stare.
"Excuse me, Male 1?"
"Y-Yes, please speak, Female 1."
"Why didn't you choose me?"
Aaron's eyes began to quiver as if an earthquake had struck his retinas.
"Th-That is..."
"Hmph. Was helping me with my luggage and acting so attentive earlier merely a facade?"
"N-No, well, the truth is, that is to say..."
Aaron was easily twice Rosalyn's size, yet he couldn't even meet the gaze of a young woman half his build, sweat pouring profusely down the back of his neck.
Right below him, the broadcast caption flashed in trembling crimson letters. Who in the world looking at that pathetic, sweat-drenched spectacle would ever dream that this man was the Shield of the Empire, the ruthless Sword Master who commanded the northern border?
Watching the monitor, my grin widened until my cheeks ached.
"Bwahahaha! My nephew's facing the crisis of his entire life!!"
It was hilarious—genuinely hilarious. Seeing someone you knew personally squirm on a dating broadcast made the entertainment value skyrocket tenfold. And now, the golden moment to seize every viewer in the Empire by the throat had finally arrived.
I leaned toward the master control mic and roared:
"All right! Cut it right here! Cue the commercial!!"
Naturally, this fantasy world lacked an automated program control system to cleanly swap in scheduled ads, meaning commercial breaks had to be triggered entirely by hand. And frankly? I preferred it this way.
Because there was no greater pleasure than leaving millions of people dangling on the edge of a cliff with my own two hands.