After rinsing her mouth, she braced her hands on the sink, carefully recalling the details from her dream.
She’d felt a little itchy even before joining the squad, thinking at the time it was just dirty hotel sheets. She detoured to buy some anti-itch ointment before heading in, but the symptoms got worse. Inside the squad, she went to the infirmary—when the meds didn’t work, she finally applied for leave, left the squad, and went to the hospital for IV treatment.
Out of caution, Renee Morgan took out the disinfectant she’d prepared beforehand, applied it all over her body, then took her allergy meds. Only after confirming there were no signs of the severe allergic reaction she’d seen in her dream could she really let out a deep sigh of relief.
"Morgan, Morgan..." Lynn Miller tapped the bathroom glass door, calling her name.
Once Renee gathered her things, she quickly opened the door. Lynn handed her the phone: "It rang a bunch of times. I thought something urgent came up. Can you call them back?"
Renee thanked her, took the phone, and saw five or six missed calls. Her heart warmed a little.
Out here, she was unattached and unsupported. Warren was her work partner, but also her most caring friend.
Renee quickly called her back.
Warren had started as a life assistant in the industry. With experience, she got noticed by the company CEO and transitioned into managing talent. Renee Morgan was one of her new artists, also the one Warren had the highest hopes for. Probably due to old work habits, she managed her artists like a nanny—covering every aspect of both life and work, down to every detail.
Knowing the director team had suddenly decided to go live, Warren followed along and watched a bunch of the livestreams. From her analysis, the biggest cameras were always on the two Best Actress winners and one Best Actor, second most on Wendy Aldridge.
Wendy knows how to make things happen—she knows how to chase trending topics. In Warren’s view, it’s obvious she prepared everything in advance: a crafted persona, a ready-made script, entering the show fully equipped.
Renee listened to Warren’s analysis, and couldn’t help but admire her professionalism.
Warren: "Morgan, once you’re in the squad, we can’t keep in touch as freely. We joined this reality show with no script and no persona; all you need to do is be yourself. If you want to rank first, if you want buzz, you can fight for them with all you’ve got. As long as it’s earned through legit means, we go for it. Just never resort to shortcuts—because any fleeting popularity you gain that way won’t last. Our goal isn’t just the attention from a single reality show; our goal is to be a top-tier actress, to aim for the Best Actress crown."
Stay true to the original intent, and only then can you reach the end. Warren always insisted on following the right path.
Renee wondered, in the dream, just which step they got wrong for things to end badly—or maybe, they weren’t wrong at all. Maybe they just had bad luck.
Renee and Warren chatted for a bit, then said their goodbyes and hung up.
She didn’t mention to Warren how she nearly fell into Wendy Aldridge’s trap. If they were face-to-face, she’d have told her everything. But tomorrow, they’re entering the squad; the day after, filming starts for real. She didn’t want Warren worrying about her at such a critical moment.
After hanging up, Renee couldn’t let go the frustration about Wendy’s plot to make her allergic.
She thought about it, and quickly came up with an idea.
Renee opened her room door and walked out. The staff in the living room were already gone—they all stayed at the hotel and would come back tomorrow morning for work.
The hotel staff must’ve cleaned up; the living room was tidy and spotless. Wendy Aldridge was lying on the sofa with a face mask on. She heard a noise, looked up, saw it was Renee, but with her face mask on, she couldn’t move much—so she just lifted her eyelids and glanced at her.
Renee recalled that in her dream, there wasn’t any coffee-brewing involved. So Wendy must have used some other method to trigger her allergy.
Apart from food, it could be personal items.
At this thought, a dark light flashed in Renee’s eyes. She said, embarrassed, "Wendy, I’m really sorry—guess I wasn’t feeling well, threw up the coffee I drank. I don’t have enough towels; do you have any extras you could give me? Maybe two?"
The hotel provided towels, but most people brought their own, not trusting the hotel’s "public" towels when away from home.
Wendy’s indifferent expression changed instantly when she heard Renee say she puked the coffee—she sat up right away, and hurriedly said, "Yes, yes, I brought extra towels. I’ll get you two."
Renee thanked her and went to the bathroom. When she came back, Wendy had just found two towels for her in matching but different colors.
The towels still had their tags on. Renee would definitely wash them, but some chemicals only activate their effects when they meet water.
A sharp glimmer flashed in Renee’s eyes. She took the towels, thanked her again, and went back to her room.
About ten minutes later, looking like she’d just washed up, Renee opened her door, carrying a washbasin with clean clothes. She greeted Wendy and then went to the bathroom window to hang her laundry.
Wendy lay on the couch, casually scrolling on her phone.
Renee listened to the short videos playing in the living room, took the clothes out of the basin, and pulled out the tagged but unwashed towels from the bottom.
Seeing the clothes hanging by the window, she easily identified Wendy’s outfit from today, as well as her underwear hanging up next to it.
Renee locked the bathroom door, turned the faucet low, and vigorously scrubbed both towels in the basin. After wringing them dry and hanging them to the side, she took Wendy’s clothes and underwear, soaked them in the basin for a few minutes, then wrung them out roughly and hung them back up by the window.
Wendy slept on the couch in the living room, and her toiletries were kept in the shared bathroom. Renee glanced at her towel, felt no sympathy at all, quickly took the towel down, soaked it in water, wrung it dry, and hung it back up.
Since she’d been in the bathroom for a while, Renee quickly dumped out the water, put both towels at the bottom of the basin, didn’t bother drying her clothes, hugged the washbasin out of the bathroom, and deliberately sighed loudly: "The window’s way too small—can’t hang anything up for long. Guess I’ll use the shower, take the stuff into the squad half-dry tomorrow."
After speaking, Renee didn’t look at Wendy, kept a calm demeanor, and headed back to her room.
Wendy didn’t think much of it, withdrew her hand from swiping short videos, switched back to the show’s livestream page.
The livestream was off, set to start at ten tomorrow morning. Right now the screen was black, with the hottest videos played on the side—three featured, two of which showed her and Best Actress Zara Chapman interacting. All the titles boosted her image.
"Mm, my sugar daddy really is impressive." Wendy thought about her sugar daddy in the production team, feeling pleased all over.
Wendy scrolled around, but didn’t take down the negative content about Renee, still feeling dissatisfied—maybe Renee hadn’t done anything truly outrageous yet, so there wasn’t enough footage to edit her out? So she couldn’t be blackened either.