Genius Manager: I Can Make All Girls Talented!-Chapter 160 - - Whisper in the Dark

Afternoon – Confessional Room

The next name called was Emma.

She entered calmly, head high. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

The screen lit up.

"Do you feel like you still belong here?"

Emma smiled softly. "More than ever."

"Do you think someone else should have left instead of you?"

She paused. Then: "It doesn't matter what I think. We're still here. We move forward."

"Would you turn on the others if it meant staying until the end?"

She laughed. "Nice try."

The screen stayed dark for a moment.

Then:

"Your honesty is being measured."

Emma leaned back, unfazed. "Then you better be ready for the truth."

Chapter: Cracks in the Panel

While the group remained united, the same couldn't be said for those behind the curtain.

Inside the control center tucked away behind the villa's southern wing, the panel of ten superfans monitored multiple live feeds. The room was dim, lit by flickering screens and lined with coffee cups, notebooks, and cables.

One of them, a woman named Cleo—mid-thirties, sharp eyes behind thick glasses—leaned forward.

"I don't like it," she said. "They're too coordinated."

"That's the point," another panelist replied. "It's a social experiment. We're supposed to pressure them, and see how the bonds hold."

"Or break," said another. A young man with shaggy hair, who hadn't looked away from Darius's feed for hours.

Cleo frowned. "We weren't chosen just to play along. We were picked because we represent the voice of the audience. Right now, it feels like we're the villains."

An argument began to simmer. Voices rising. Ethics questioned.

In the corner of the room, a hidden microphone clicked on.

Lauren was listening.

She didn't speak. Not yet. But her fingers tapped slowly on the desk.

A crack in the panel.

Just what she needed.

Evening – Villa Garden

The group had retreated to the garden. Lanterns cast a warm, flickering glow across the leaves. The air smelled faintly of jasmine.

They sat in a circle around a low firepit, the flames low and steady.

Alicia leaned back against Darius's chest. Yuna sat cross-legged beside Emma, braiding a small section of her hair. Avery was journaling in the dim light, her pen scratching rhythmically.

"It's only a matter of time before one of them breaks," Avery said. "Not us. Them. The panel."

Emma nodded. "They're not a machine. They're people. If we keep showing them the truth, someone will crack."

"That's what I'm counting on," Darius said. "And when they do, we grab them. Make them our voice."

Yuna smirked. "Turn one of their own into a mole?"

Darius nodded. "Exactly. We just need to find the right one."

A quiet settled over them again. But it wasn't fear this time. It was anticipation.

The kind that builds just before a storm.

***

It started with a flicker.

At first, Avery thought it was just a glitch—a brief flash on her tablet while she was reviewing the latest edited footage sent to them for feedback. But when she tapped the screen, a new message blinked into existence. Not from the producers. Not from any known channel.

It was a single line:

"You have an ally."

Below it, a username: [Panelist_07]

Avery stared at the words for a full minute. The air in the villa's shared study was thick and still, broken only by the distant hum of the pool filters and the rustling of palm fronds outside the open window. Her fingertips hovered above the screen, a chill creeping up her spine despite the warm breeze.

She typed slowly, deliberately.

Who are you?

There was a long pause. So long that Avery almost thought it was a joke. A glitch, a prank.

Then, the reply appeared:

**"I can't say. But I've seen what they're doing. I want to help."

Her pulse quickened.

Why us? Why now?

"Because you're not playing the game. You're rewriting it. And they're starting to panic."

Villa Courtyard – Daylight

Avery approached the others cautiously. Emma and Alicia were tending to a small herb garden they'd started near the villa's outer wall. The rosemary was thriving, and the basil had started to flower. It was their quiet place—their small claim to normalcy.

Yuna and Darius were seated nearby, sharing a quiet conversation over iced tea and sketching ideas for a group talent segment they planned to fake for screen time. Darius looked up as Avery approached, her expression tense but focused.

"We have a contact," she said, her voice low but urgent.

Emma wiped her hands on her apron and straightened. "What kind of contact?"

"One of the panelists reached out. They say they want to help."

Alicia set down her watering can. "You're sure it wasn't a trap?"

"They used the word 'ally'. And they mentioned something no one else should know. That we were planning a response to Round Two behind the scenes."

Yuna narrowed her eyes. "So either they have full access, or they were on the inside once."

"Exactly," Avery said. "And they said they want to give us an edge."

Darius nodded slowly. "Then we play this next part very carefully. No trust. Just tactics. But if it's real, this could change everything."

That Night – Secret Exchange

Avery returned to the study just after midnight. She made sure the hallway cameras were blind in their rotation sweep, a timing she had memorized after hours of observation.

The message thread was still active.

Another line had appeared:

"They're planning to separate you. One-on-one dates. Forced confessions. Each with tailored psychological pressure points."

Avery sat down, fingers flying over the keys.

How do we stop it?

"You can't. But you can subvert it. I'll send you the prompts early. Prepare your answers. Twist the narrative. Turn their trap into your spotlight."

Avery hesitated. Her fingers slowed.

Why help us? Really.

There was a long pause. Almost a full minute passed.

Then:

"Because I was once a contestant too. And they broke me. I watched everything I was turned into, edited, twisted, sold as a character I didn't recognize. I couldn't stop it then. But I can now."

Avery's throat tightened.

She leaned back in the chair and stared out the window at the stars.

"Then help us burn it all down," she whispered.

The reply came quickly:

**"I already am."