Kelly had been pacing the apartment for twenty minutes straight, muttering numbers like she was reciting an ancient spell.
"Fifteen brands dropped, eight reconsidering, three new offers pending… oh my god, Aria, do you even care?!"
Aria didn't answer — mostly because her mouth was full of dumplings.
She sat cross-legged on the couch, in an oversized hoodie, surrounded by takeout boxes like a battlefield of delicious destruction. Her hair was tied up messily, her phone propped against a soy sauce bottle streaming the live replay of her own press conference.
The chat feed was on fire.
> 💬 "She's insane and I love her."
💬 "Queen of Quotes!!"
💬 "Did she say fried chicken?? ICON."
💬 "I used to hate her but now she's my religion."
Kelly finally stopped pacing and turned to face her.
"You're trending number one in seven countries. The agency wants to have an emergency meeting. They think you've gone rogue!"
Aria popped another dumpling into her mouth. "They're not wrong."
Kelly threw her arms up. "Do you realize what you did? You basically admitted the scandal was real!"
Aria chewed thoughtfully. "I admitted something was real. Not the part they think."
Kelly blinked. "You are terrifying."
Aria grinned. "Thank you."
Kelly dropped into a chair, defeated. "You were supposed to act weak, pitiful, humble… not whatever that was!"
"I am humble," Aria said between bites. "Humbly hungry."
Kelly groaned. "The agency's PR team says we either double down on the 'strong woman' image or issue a fake apology."
Aria wiped her mouth with a napkin. "What kind of apology?"
"The kind that makes you sound sorry for being alive!"
"Then no."
Kelly's phone buzzed again. She groaned and picked it up. "Oh, it's Marcus from HQ. Don't say anything, okay? Just—eat quietly."
Aria raised her brows. "That's the first order I've liked today."
Kelly answered.
A voice exploded through the speaker: "KELLY, WHAT IS SHE DOING ONLINE AGAIN?!"
Aria leaned closer. "Existing."
Kelly hissed, "Mute yourself!"
"She's eating and talking to reporters," Marcus barked. "And now sponsors are calling! Some love it, some hate it! One even said they want her for a spicy ramen ad?!"
Aria perked up. "Spicy ramen? Accept."
"Don't accept anything!" Marcus yelled. "We need to control her!"
Aria tilted her head, voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the call.
"Marcus, I appreciate your concern. But last I checked, control only works on machines. And I'm not one."
Dead silence.
Kelly mouthed please stop while Marcus made a strangled noise.
"You—You can't just—"
"I can," Aria said lightly. "And I will. Because the public doesn't trust perfection anymore. They trust chaos. Lucky for us, I'm great at it."
She ended the call before Kelly could protest.
Kelly collapsed backward. "You just hung up on the executive director."
"Yup."
"…And somehow I think that's going to work."
Aria stretched lazily. "It usually does."
Kelly blinked. "You've done this before?"
"Different battlefield. Same politics."
Before Kelly could reply, her phone pinged again — a new message.
She read it, froze, then turned to Aria, eyes wide. "You won't believe this."
Aria arched a brow. "Try me."
"Two new show offers. One's a cooking survival show—'Battle Kitchen'—and the other's that zombie thing, 'Apocalypse Playground.' They both want you."
Aria grinned. "Cooking and combat? My kind of vacation."
Kelly gawked. "You're not seriously considering both—"
"Why not?" Aria interrupted. "One feeds me, one lets me stretch my legs. Balance."
Kelly clutched her tablet like a holy text. "You're impossible."
"Accurate," Aria said, standing up and gathering the remaining food into neat piles.
She looked around the apartment — sunlight spilling through the windows, the faint smell of soy and chaos filling the air.
This world had its predators too — but at least here, the weapons were edible.
Kelly broke her silence. "You know, for someone who was supposed to be a PR disaster, you're kind of… brilliant."
Aria smiled faintly. "That's just survival instinct, Kelly. The trick isn't avoiding the bullet — it's learning how to use the ricochet."
Her phone buzzed again — a new text.
Unknown number.
> [Unknown]: You looked alive today. Welcome back, A-01.
The smile vanished.
Her pulse slowed. Her vision tunneled — not in fear, but focus.
Kelly noticed. "You okay?"
Aria locked the screen, her voice steady. "Yeah. Just indigestion."
But her mind was already in motion.
Someone out there knew her real name. Not Aria Lane, the starlet — but A-01, the agent.
Which meant her past had just entered the game.