Chosen

The door opened, and a man entered with the presence of someone used to being the most important person in any room. 

Mid-forties, expensive suit, 

teeth too white to be natural.

Nataria recognized him instantly from the promotional materials: 

Takeshi Nakamura, one of Japan’s most popular variety show hosts.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” 

His voice boomed cheerfully. 

“Welcome to Off Stage. I’m Takeshi Nakamura, your host for the next four weeks. Are we excited?”

Murmurs followed, polite but uncertain.

Nataria kept her face neutral, aware of every lens pivoting toward her. 

She didn’t glance right, didn’t risk meeting Senri’s eyes. 

Her heart was hammering anyway.

“Before we begin,” Takeshi said, settling into the armchair positioned at the center of the room, “let’s get to know each other. 

Each of you will introduce yourself who you are, what you do, and why you joined.”

His grin deepened. “And, by audience request, tell us about your ideal type. What makes your heart race? Physical traits, personality, don’t be shy.”

Of course. Because this couldn't just be humiliating, it had to be revealing too.

“Let’s start with you, Shimizu-san.”

Hibiki straightened. 

Nataria’s chest tightened as she looked at him properly for the first time.

He looked impeccable, dark hair perfectly styled, shirt crisp, every inch the composed young actor. 

The same face that made directors see ‘leading man’ before he said a single word.

“Hi, everyone,” he said smoothly. “I’m Hibiki Shimizu, twenty-one, an actor. 

I’ve been in the industry for about seven years. 

I joined the show because I thought it would be interesting to step outside my usual roles and just... be myself for a change, without scripts."

The words were rehearsed and safe.

“As for my ideal type… someone intelligent and independent, who understands the demands of this industry but has her own passions. Someone I can have real conversations with.”

A pause. Then lightly, “Physically, I suppose I prefer tall girls.”

Translation: Not Nataria.

Cold settled in her chest. 

She’d braced for this, it didn’t hurt less.

Because those same eyes had once looked at Nataria with warmth.

They’d known each other back at the agency when they were still kids. 

They crossed paths during evaluations and late-night workshops, sitting on the hallway floor with sore legs and bottled nerves. 

Hibiki had offered quiet solidarity then: a shared grimace after harsh critiques, 

a murmured joke about a choreography, 

an unopened sports drink nudged toward her when her voice gave out.

Ever since then, she’d felt safe around him. He was her friend who understood how heavy the dream could be.

Then the scandal broke.

Within 24 hours, Hibiki stopped acknowledging her. 

At the agency, he stayed close to his managers, gaze fixed ahead. 

If they passed in the same corridors where they’d once exchanged lively conversations, he looked through her as if she were a stranger.

Nataria understood. He was finally gaining momentum,

 he couldn’t afford to be associated with damaged goods. 

He’d made the smart choice. 

The safe one.

But late at night, when her apartment felt too empty, that loss hurt more than the headlines ever could. Because that wasn’t just a colleague who disappeared.

That was someone who remembered her from before the masks.

“Wonderful!” Takeshi beamed. “Tamaki-san?”

The girl with the long navy ponytail, beside Hibiki straightened. Sachiko Tamaki, composed as any athlete waiting for the signal to play.

She wore a white dress that made her look graceful.

“I’m Sachiko Tamaki, Olympic gymnast and silver medalist,” she said with a small smile. 

“I’m here because I wanted to try something outside competition. Something real… connection, maybe.”

Liar, Nataria thought. Everyone here is competing.

“My ideal type would be someone responsible. Someone dependable.” 

She paused, her eyes flickering toward Hibiki for just a moment before darting away.

Someone mature.”

Takeshi’s grin sharpened, already cataloging subtext for edit highlights.

Smart, Nataria noted. Not an idol. 

Free to flirt naturally. Instant engagement.

“Komatsu-san?”

Shou Komatsu had the kind of face that photographed well from every angle, sharp jawline, 

blonde hair styled in that deliberately messy way that took an hour to achieve,

 blue eyes that knew exactly how attractive they were.

He wore a designer jacket over a black t-shirt.

 Calculated casual.

“Hey, everyone. Shou Komatsu, twenty, idol. 

If you don’t know our group ” he smirked, “you will soon. I came here for fun. Might as well meet people on national TV, you know?”

Laughter rippled around.

“My ideal type? Someone spontaneous, fun, loves music.” 

His vivid blue eyes slid to the redhead beside him. "Life’s too short to be boring.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed, and Nataria’s stomach twisted. 

Shou was playing the game flawlessly.

“Miyata-san?”

Momo Miyata smiled shyly, every movement soft and deliberate.

 With her red hair and doll-like features, she embodied the kind of cuteness that made photographers weep.

“Hi! I’m Momo Miyata, nineteen. Model and influencer. I love fashion and travel. I joined because I believe in destiny, maybe this is my chance at a new beginning.”

Hands clasped, eyes sparkling. The picture of sincerity.

“My ideal type?” She tilted her head, blush forming like clockwork. 

“Someone who listens well and laughs at my jokes.”

More smiles. Takeshi practically glowed.

“Amano-san?”

“Yeah, hi. Senri Amano, nineteen.”

The casual tone startled Nataria.

She turned. The golden eyes captures hers before she could look away.

“I’m… the guy from that viral fire rescue video,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 “Still weird to talk about, honestly. I work a few part-time jobs, convenience store, warehouse, and backup singer, which is probably my favorite.”

His voice was different from the others. 

It had no polish, just straightforwardness that made everyone else's practiced introductions sound suddenly hollow.

"And your ideal type?" Takeshi prompted, leaning forward with interest.

"Oh man, okay." Senri's expression turned thoughtful. "Someone honest and sweet. Someone who's maybe a little messy or lost?"

He said it like a question, like he was testing out the words.

"I don't know, I like being useful. Being needed. So maybe someone who needs... I don't know, someone in their corner?"

He paused, then grinned, a flash of those dimples that had gone viral in a dozen different clips.

"Is that weird to say? That sounds weird."

The room laughed, charmed.

Nataria felt something uncomfortable twist in her chest. 

All that genuine warmth without any calculation she was used to seeing in attractive people.

“And last but not least,” Takeshi said, eyes glittering, “Hidomu-san.”

Every camera in the room swiveled toward her.

The weight of their attention was suffocating.

 Nataria forced herself to breathe evenly, to keep her expression controlled. 

The others had gone quiet in a way they hadn't for anyone else.

"I'm Nataria Hidomu, nineteen. I'm an actress." Her voice came out steady enough. "I've been working in television dramas for the past few years."

The silence that followed was deafening.

No one offered polite murmurs of recognition or encouragement. 

Momo's expression had gone carefully blank. Shou was smirking slightly. Hibiki wouldn't look at her. Sachiko looked interested.

Weren’t some of them just speaking to her before the camera roll started?

"Nice to meet you."

The voice came from beside her.

Senri was looking at her with that same open, friendly expression he'd had during everyone's introduction.

Like she was a person instead of a cautionary tale.

Nataria blinked, thrown off balance. "Nice to meet you, too."

"And your ideal type?" Takeshi pressed, and there was something in his tone, an eagerness that made her skin crawl.

Nataria's mind went blank. 

What was she supposed to say? The truth, that she'd never had time for dating, that her mother had trained romance out of her in preparation for when she'll become an idol one day, 

that she didn't know if she was capable of the vulnerability these questions assumed?

"Someone patient," she finally said. "Someone who doesn't give up on people easily."

The words hung in the air.

Takeshi's smile remained pleasant, but something in his eyes suggested he'd gotten exactly what he wanted.

Desperate. Pathetic. Already begging for someone to tolerate her.

The comments were practically writing themselves

“Excellent!” he announced brightly. “Now, let’s explain this week’s challenge.”

He leaned forward, the perfect showman. “Across the next four weeks, you’ll take part in challenges and build connections. Each week ends with a review and audience feedback. But for now, time to decide partnerships for your first challenge: a couples photoshoot.”

The atmosphere tensed immediately.

“This time,” Takeshi added, savoring it, “the men will choose their partners.”

Momo straightened, smile bright. Sachiko blinked in surprise.

Nataria felt ice water flood her veins.

"Now here's the interesting part," Takeshi said, and his smile turned knife sharp. "You're allowed to choose the same partner if you want. Two or even all three of you could pick the same person. It doesn’t affect the challenge, you would work with them in turns, of course, it's completely up to you."

There it is.

This wasn't just about partnerships, it was about public rejection. 

They'd structured it specifically so she could be left without anyone choosing her at all. 

The humiliation would be complete, televised for all.

Her hands clenched the fabric of her dress unconsciously.

Nataria Hidomu: rejected on day one.

“Shimizu-san, you’re our eldest. Start us off.”

Hibiki stood.

Nataria watched him calculate in real-time: choosing her would resurrect whispers of dating rumors, image suicide. 

Choosing Momo would be too obvious, might make him look shallow.

There was a brief eye contact with her where she saw an apologetic look, then…

"Tamaki-san," he said, and his smile was his prince charming one. "I choose Tamaki-san."

Sachiko's face lit up with surprise and pleasure, real emotion breaking through her face. "I'm honored."

Smart choice. The Olympic athlete. It made him look sensible.

And it hurt more than Nataria wanted to admit. 

If Hibiki hadn’t chosen her, why would anyone else?

“Komatsu-san?”

Shou stood dramatically. “Miyata-san, you’re absolutely stunning. I’d love to partner with you.”

Her laugh was sweet and perfect. The subtext was clear: I didn’t even consider anyone else.

Silence settled as everyone looked at Senri.

“Amano-san?”

Senri stood, scanning the room, the pairs already formed. 

Then his gaze landed on her.

"Before Amano-san makes his choice," Takeshi interjected smoothly,

 "remember that you're allowed to choose someone who's already been picked. If you prefer Tamaki-san or Miyata-san, you can still choose them."

Why would you choose the only person left when you could compete for someone actually desirable?

Nataria felt her spine lock. 

Her face had gone completely numb. 

She was aware, distantly, that her expression probably looked frozen, exactly the villain edit they wanted.

Just get it over with, she thought.

  Choose Momo.

 Everyone knows you will.

 At least make it quick.

But Senri was still looking at her.

She watched his expression shift, confusion melting into understanding, then hardening into determination.

His golden eyes held something she couldn't quite parse.

Like he'd seen exactly what was happening here.

"Hidomu-san," he said clearly.

The air stopped moving.

Nataria blinked. For a heartbeat, she thought she’d misheard.

But Senri had already crossed the space between them, every step steady and unapologetic.

“Would you consider pairing with me?”

The question was formal, old-fashioned, like he was asking for a proper match rather than participating in a stupid reality show challenge.

Behind him, Momo's face showed shock and something else, wounded vanity. 

Shou's smirk had vanished, replaced by irritation. 

Hibiki looked surprised, his professional mask slipping. Sachiko watched with excited eyes.

And Takeshi looked like Christmas had come early.

Nataria stared at Senri's posture. At his face, which held nothing but genuine question, like her answer actually mattered.

He knew what was happening. 

She could see it now, in the set of his jaw, in the way he deliberately wasn't looking at the cameras. 

He'd understood exactly what this moment was designed to do.

And he'd chosen to spring the trap anyway.

Idiot. You just destroyed your PR on day one.

But when she looked at him, really looked she saw someone who'd recognized unnecessary cruelty and done something about it, consequences be damned.

He ran inside a burning building… she thought hysterically, he clearly has no self preservation skills.

"I..." Her voice came out rough. She cleared her throat. "I would be happy to."