After she said something like that, I honestly had no idea how I was supposed to react.
My brain stalled for a second, like it was buffering. Not because I didn't understand what she said—but because I understood it too well.
What she had said wasn't public knowledge.
Not even close.
It was the kind of thing that never made it past closed doors, whispered conversations, and confidential reports. The kind of truth that would cause an uproar if it ever reached the masses.
Goddesses were born human.
That was the truth.
They weren't summoned from the heavens. They didn't descend from some divine realm. They weren't carved out of light or forged by fate.
They were born from human parents.
Mothers who carried them for nine months. Fathers who waited nervously outside hospital rooms. Families who, for a brief moment, were just normal.
But the moment it was discovered that their daughter was a Goddess, everything shattered.
The parents stopped seeing a child.
Instead, they saw a miracle.
A blessing.
Something sacred.
They no longer treated their daughter as their own flesh and blood, but as a god-like existence that had somehow chosen them as a vessel. Reverence replaced affection. Awe replaced warmth.
And just like that, the concept of "family" quietly disappeared.
The truth was, even now, no one fully understood the power of the Goddesses.
Not scientists.
Not governments.
Not even the companies that managed them.
They were simply called Goddesses because they were born with power. That was the only consistent factor.
And even though that power came from a mysterious and unexplained source, it was still incredibly fucked up when you thought about it. From the moment they were born, expectations were shoved onto their shoulders. Responsibility followed immediately after.
Even worse, most parents willingly handed their daughters over to corporations. Signed papers. Made deals. Convincing themselves it was "for the greater good."
So their children could grow stronger.
So the world could be protected.
"You don't have to act nice with them," my sister said, her voice calm but firm. "You just need to do your job managing them. And since it's you, I'm confident you'll do fine."
She paused briefly, as if choosing her words.
"And I want you to be more productive," she continued. "After you lost that tournament, you haven't really been yourself. You're not as active as before."
Her tone softened slightly.
"As your sister, I'm worried. I really am," she said. "I think this will help you reintegrate into society. Don't you think?"
I exhaled slowly.
It wasn't like I was some full-blown shut-in who hadn't seen daylight in years. I still went outside. I still interacted with people. But… yeah. I knew what she meant.
I had been stuck.
Stagnant.
"And besides," she added, her voice suddenly far too casual, "you're not exactly losing out here. Don't you think it's kind of arousing to manage women who have no experience with men? Or, honestly, no experience with much of anything?"
My eyebrow twitched.
"You could build a harem," she continued smoothly. "I mean, historically speaking, you'd be the first male to ever manage them."
"I don't want to create a harem filled with degenerates who don't even know how to clean their own mess," I replied immediately.
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Sure, the Goddesses were considered beautiful by the entire world. People worshipped them. Idolized them. Fantasized about them.
But after seeing how they actually lived?
Yeah. No thanks.
There was no way—absolutely no way—I could imagine myself having any kind of relationship with any of them.
"That's unfortunate," she said, sounding genuinely amused. "But if you do manage to woo one, don't forget to use protection. Goddesses need to stay in the public eye, after all. A child would complicate things."
She was definitely joking.
At least… I hoped she was.
"Yes, yes. I get it," I replied. "I'll use protection so I don't get the Goddesses pregnant. Though I can't promise anything."
I ended the call before she could say anything else.
The silence afterward felt heavier than it should have.
Then I heard it.
A soft sound—like a paper bag slipping from someone's grip and hitting the floor.
I turned around.
Someone was standing there.
She wore a facemask that hid most of her face, dark shades covering her eyes, and a cap pulled low over her head. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, though a few strands escaped and framed her face.
Pink.
Pink hair.
That alone narrowed it down instantly.
This had to be Lara—the Goddess of Water, and the de facto leader of the group I'd be managing.
"Ah… um…" she stammered, her face slowly turning red beneath the mask.
"Did you… hear what I said?" I asked carefully.
She nodded.
Great.
"Well, you don't need to worry about that," I said quickly. "That was just me joking around with my sister."
"S-Sister…?" she blinked. "Ah—! You must be the new manager she mentioned!"
Thank god.
At least she knew.
"I assume you've already met the others?" she asked nervously. "Ah! D-Do you want me to introduce you properly?"
"I don't think that's necessary," I replied. "I already know all of you, and I've met the others. I think they introduced themselves… in more ways than one."
"In more ways than one…?"
"It's nothing," I said. "Anyway, could you gather everyone and have them coordinate with me for a bit?"
***
Because Lara was the leader, things moved faster than I expected.
She got them out of their comfort zones—complaining included—and somehow convinced them to change into something more presentable. The chaos of the lounge was left behind as we moved into a much cleaner area.
My office.
The room was spacious enough to comfortably seat all six of them. A long table stretched across the center, with seven seats placed around it. One chair sat at the head of the table.
Mine.
They were all present now.
Well… mostly.
A hovering drone floated quietly near one side of the room.
That had to be the Goddess of Arcane Machines. Not physically here, but present enough I guess.
"Now then," I said, standing up straight, "I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Ren, and I'll be your manager for the next five years."
There was no response.
Samantha was asleep, her head propped up by her hand.
Vera was slouched so deeply into her chair that she looked like she was melting.
Luna was busy taking selfies and posting them online without shame.
Eve, the Goddess of Darkness, was examining her nails with intense focus.
And the drone… well, it didn't react at all.
Only Lara was actually listening.
I stared at the group.
I sighed inwardly.
Yeah.
These Goddesses were absolutely going to need discipline.