Their lobbying paid off. The final terms were set: judges would announce a random theme on the spot, and the dancers would improvise everything—choreography and performance—live, with the championship hanging in the balance.

When the host revealed the format, the crowd accepted it without protest. The livestream chat scrolled past without complaint. On stage, Adah stood like carved marble, unshakeable. Beside her, Rowena’s face went white as bone. She couldn’t choreograph worth a damn.

Sure, Rowena had trained under elite instructors since she could walk. Her technical foundation was fortress-solid. But composition? She had nothing. No spark, no vision, no creative fire whatsoever. If Adah’s earlier performance had been original—and Rowena was starting to suspect it was—she was absolutely finished.

Panic clawed up Rowena’s throat. Rage followed close behind, directed at the very judges she’d bankrolled. She’d paid them to protect her. Instead, they’d handed her a knife aimed straight at her weakest point. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Adah tilted her head, drinking in Rowena’s spiral with obvious pleasure. A quiet sneer escaped her lips. “Looks like those two judges you dropped a fortune on seriously misjudged your… capabilities, Rowena.”

Rowena’s pulse stuttered. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Adah laughed, cold and cutting. “You think denial will bury your dirty little secrets? You can play whatever games you want, but truth has teeth. Every dirty deal you’ve made is going to be dragged into daylight and ripped apart by the world.”

“Adah, stop spewing garbage!” Rowena’s thoughts were a hurricane, but she forced her expression into something resembling calm.

Adah’s smile turned razor-sharp. “You stole someone else’s work to grab fame and fortune, but you’re not strong enough to carry that weight. Just wait. I’m going to tear you off that pedestal and watch you fall into the void.”

The words sent ice through Rowena’s veins. Once, she would’ve dismissed such threats as background noise, would’ve written Adah off as nothing more than an irritating pest. But after watching Adah’s showstopping performance minutes ago, she didn’t dare take Adah lightly anymore.

Rowena had no idea how Adah had uncovered the bribes and couldn’t begin to guess what revenge Adah was planning. The not-knowing carved into her, cranked her terror to excruciating levels. She felt like she was burning alive from the inside out. Every instinct screamed at her to withdraw, to flee the venue and never look back. But it was too late for that. The trap had already closed. She had no choice but to steel herself and face this nightmare round.

Finish the chapters at g?ν?s. o

Still, a flicker of blind hope stubbornly persisted. Maybe Adah wasn’t a real choreographer either. Maybe the Immortal’s Awakening had been stolen from someone else, too. After all, Adah was just a bumpkin raised in some backwater town with zero formal training—how could she possibly craft professional-level choreography?

Rowena’s own skills were pathetic; she’d admit that much. But surely they were better than Adah’s. They had to be.

Forcing her nerves into submission, Rowena fired back, venom dripping from every word. “The only one plummeting into the abyss will be you, Adah.”

Their exchange was hushed, too quiet for anyone else to catch.

To the audience, it looked like harmless cousin-to-cousin banter—a relationship that had the public convinced they were close behind the scenes.

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