Under the glaring hot sun, sweat rolled freely, dignity evaporated instantly, and every participant wondered why they ever agreed to appear on this show.
To be fair, the earlier seasons were deceptive. All they showed were beautiful contestants drifting between chic cafés, designer exhibitions and perfectly lit museums, flirting over artisanal pastries and posing like lifestyle influencers.
There had been been zero indication that rice fields or sinking mud would ever be involved.
If anyone were to ask the director, he would say the season was going perfectly.
The mud was intentional.
The suffering was thematic.
The audience loved authenticity.
At least, that was what he told himself whenever someone screamed.
And besides, was it really his fault that the cast this time round had zero chemistry? There were no heart-fluttering moments, no lingering gazes, no soft smiles waiting to bloom into something meaningful.
