Karina slammed the cold can of cola down onto the coffee table. The carbonated bubbles hissed violently in protest. She picked up the thick stack of bills and flipped through them, page by page.

A Rolex Submariner. A limited-edition Hermès men's bag. The down payment on a Ferrari. Every single staggering purchase had the same name on the receipt: Kole Caldwell.

The original owner's memories flooded her brain like toxic sludge. Standing in the freezing rain at midnight to bring Kole hot soup. Getting cornered and screamed at by Kole's rabid fans. The immediate, cold-blooded ghosting the second Kole got famous.

Karina's eyes grew colder by the second. The temperature in the room plummeted as the raw, suffocating killing intent of a survivor leaked out of her pores.

Sitting across from her, Rachel shivered, instinctively shrinking back into the corner of the sofa. She felt like she was looking at a terrifying stranger.

"This parasite named Kole... he's a guest on Heartbeat Weekly too?" Karina tapped her long finger against the bills. Her voice was so calm it made the hairs on Rachel's arms stand up.

"Yes... he and Candice are the show's main couple. Your current role is just to be the vicious, obsessed ex-girlfriend they use as a stepping stone," Rachel swallowed hard, explaining the reality.

A bloodthirsty smirk curled the corners of Karina's mouth. She tossed the bills back onto the table. "Fine. I'll do the show."

Rachel's eyes widened. She thought she had misheard. "Are you sure? You just publicly insulted Candice! If you go in there, their fans will tear you to pieces!"

"Tear me to pieces?" Karina stood up, looking down at Rachel with absolute disdain. "I'd like to see how hard the bones of these greenhouse flowers really are."

"Also, scan and back up every single one of these receipts. I'm going to make that freeloading parasite vomit up every last cent, with interest." Karina issued the order with military precision.

Rachel was completely dominated by her aura. She found herself nodding obediently, feeling as if she were taking orders from a ruthless general.

"How much is the appearance fee? Is it enough to cover this debt?" Karina immediately pivoted to the practical economics.

"The upfront fee is only five hundred thousand. But if you survive until the final episode without getting voted out, there's a two million dollar grand prize. It would barely cover the hole," Rachel said, quickly flipping through the contract.

"Deal. When do we shoot? What do I need to prepare?" Karina was already in combat mode.

Rachel let out a long breath of relief and pulled out an itinerary. "Tomorrow morning at 8 AM, the production team will send a car. The first stop is the wilderness villa."

"To create hype, the producers want all the female guests dressed to the nines. You need to outshine everyone. Where's that sequined mini-dress you bought?"

Karina pictured the tacky, cheap sequined dress in the closet that barely covered her ass. A look of intense physical disgust crossed her face.

"I threw it away," Karina answered without hesitation. "Wearing that into the wilderness... am I trying to feed the mosquitoes, or am I just trying to die faster?"

Rachel panicked. "But you don't have any sponsors! All the brands are avoiding you! What are you going to wear to outshine Candice? !"

"Playing dress-up is a game for people with no real power." Karina walked to the entryway and grabbed a black windbreaker.

"I have my own methods. Go finalize the contract. Have the driver waiting downstairs at exactly 8 AM." Karina opened the door, dismissing her.

Though full of doubt, Rachel looked at Karina's unquestionable gaze and had no choice but to grab her briefcase and leave.

Once the door clicked shut, Karina walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the massive mirror.

Under the harsh fluorescent light, she stared at the woman looking back at her. Bleached, dead blonde hair. Eyeliner smudged like a raccoon. Lips painted a horrific shade of neon pink.

Her pragmatist war-zone aesthetics suffered a critical hit. She felt physically sick looking at this cheap, vulnerable disguise.

That long hair was a fatal weakness in close-quarters combat. That heavy makeup would cause severe skin infections in extreme environments.

Karina spun around, bolted out of the bathroom, grabbed her wallet and keys, and marched out of the apartment.

Before the cameras rolled tomorrow, she was going to eradicate every single trace of the 'cheap vase' from this body.

Out on the dark streets of Los Angeles, Karina hailed a cab and headed straight for a high-end, late-night salon near Beverly Hills.

Karina pushed open the heavy glass doors of the luxury salon. The crystal chimes above rang sharply. Several wealthy women getting treatments frowned in annoyance at the intrusion.

Her fried blonde hair and smeared, cheap club makeup clashed violently with the elegant, hushed atmosphere of the room.

Tony, the lead stylist, was about to send an assistant to shoo away what looked like a lost, D-list trash bag. But when he met Karina's freezing, dead-eyed stare, his feet stopped moving.

It was the oppressive, suffocating gaze of an apex predator. In all his years in Hollywood, Tony had only seen that look on the faces of a few untouchable billionaires.

Tony immediately stepped forward himself, guiding Karina to a plush leather chair in the VIP room. "Ma'am, what kind of evening look are we doing tonight?"

"No evening look." Karina stared at herself in the mirror, her voice hard as iron. "Cut all this disgusting blonde hair off. Dye it back to pure black."

Tony gasped. "All of it? But ma'am, your face shape is perfect for these long waves! Cutting it short will make your features look too aggressive!"

"What's wrong with aggressive?" Karina shot him a cold look through the mirror. "I want efficiency, not to look like a plastic doll. Cut it."

Intimidated by her aura, Tony didn't dare argue. He picked up his shears. With the first brutal snip, the waist-length, dead blonde hair fell to the floor.

As the heavy hair fell away, Karina felt a suffocating layer of vanity and weakness lift from her shoulders. Her neck felt light and free.

While waiting for the black dye to set, Karina asked Tony for a full bottle of heavy-duty makeup remover and a pack of cleansing towels.

She poured the remover onto the towel without an ounce of gentleness. Staring into the mirror, she scrubbed violently at the thick foundation, the exaggerated eyeshadow, and the fake lashes.

Tony watched her brutal movements, wincing in physical pain. "Ma'am, please! Be gentle! You're going to tear your skin!"

Karina ignored him. She scrubbed until the towel was stained a muddy, toxic brown. Then, she turned on the faucet and splashed freezing cold water hard against her face.

When she lifted her head, water droplets sliding down her pale skin, Tony sucked in a sharp breath. He stood frozen, completely dumbfounded.

Without the grotesque makeup, her face was a flawless, terrifying work of art. Her bone structure was supreme. Her deep-set eyes radiated a cold, highly aggressive beauty.

The original owner had deliberately ruined her own striking, cold features with cheap makeup just to cater to Kole's preference for 'sweet barbies'.

"My God..." Tony muttered. "Was your previous makeup artist blind? This is a crime against nature!"

Karina pulled a tissue and dried her face. She looked at the familiar yet strange face in the mirror. A satisfied smirk touched her lips. This was the face of a survivor.

Two hours later, the process was done. Tony carefully blew dry her hair-a sleek, obsidian-black lob that barely brushed her collarbones.

Black hair, snow-white skin, and eyes that looked like they could dissect a soul. She radiated the lethal, untouchable aura of a true 'black lotus'.

"Perfect... this is the greatest masterpiece of my career," Tony whispered, his hands actually shaking.

Karina stood up. She pulled a thick stack of cash from her wallet, slapped it onto the counter without even looking at the bill, and walked out.

When she stepped out of the VIP room with her new look, the whispers in the main lobby died instantly. Every single pair of eyes glued to her.

Someone secretly raised a phone to take a picture, assuming a legendary supermodel had just come out of retirement.

Karina pushed open the salon doors. The cold night wind of Los Angeles whipped through her black hair. She took a deep breath of freedom.

Back at her apartment, she dragged a massive black garbage bag into the bedroom. She ruthlessly shoved every neon bandage dress and pair of stiletto heels into the trash.

From the bottom of a storage bin, she dug out a few simple black windbreakers, cargo pants, and a pair of tactical combat boots with heavy grips.

She packed the practical gear efficiently into a massive outdoor hiking backpack, patting the heavy canvas with satisfaction.

Karina walked to the window, looking out at the neon lights. Her eyes were sharp as a hawk's. Tomorrow, the hunt begins.

The morning sun poured through the massive glass walls of the talent agency's lobby. Karina strode through the doors wearing a black windbreaker and heavy tactical combat boots.

Her sleek black hair moved with her aggressive, ground-eating strides. Her bare face was half-hidden behind oversized black sunglasses, concealing her identity.

Trainees and staff members stopped in their tracks, captivated by the cold, lethal aura radiating from her. No one recognized her.

"Oh my god, is that a new top model the agency signed? That presence is insane!" two assistants whispered excitedly in the corner.

Karina walked straight to the front desk. She bent her long fingers and rapped her knuckles twice against the black marble counter. "What floor is Rachel Webb on?"

The receptionist jumped, startled by the freezing tone. "Uh... 12th floor, Section A. Do you have an appointment?"

Karina didn't bother answering. She turned on her heel and walked straight to the elevators, leaving the receptionist too intimidated to call security.

The elevator doors chimed open on the 12th floor. Several actors gossiping about Candice's trending topic instantly shut their mouths, watching with awe as Karina walked past.

She reached the door to Section A. Without knocking, she grabbed the handle and pushed her way in.

Inside, Rachel was screaming into her phone at a PR firm. "I don't care how you do it! You have to get Karina's assault hashtag off the trending list!"

Hearing the door open, Rachel snapped her head up, furious. "I told you not to just walk in-" Her voice died in her throat.

The phone slipped from Rachel's hand, slamming onto the desk. Her jaw dropped as she stared at the incredibly cool, intimidating woman standing in her office.

"Who... who are you looking for?" Rachel stammered, completely failing to connect this person to the aesthetic disaster that was Karina.

Karina pulled off her sunglasses and tossed them onto the sofa. She revealed those signature eyes, now completely devoid of warmth. "You."

"Jesus Christ! Karina? !" Rachel shrieked. She shot up from her chair and sprinted around the desk.

Rachel circled Karina like she was examining an alien, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch the black hair. "Did you... did you get plastic surgery? No, wait, you just took your makeup off? !"

"Stop screaming. I washed my face," Karina said, annoyed. She walked over to the water cooler and noticed the jug was empty.

She glanced down at the sealed, five-gallon water jug sitting on the floor-a solid forty pounds of dead weight.

Rachel was still rambling. "God, your bone structure is insane! If you had just shown this face to the world, Kole wouldn't mean shit! I swear-"

Rachel's words cut off abruptly. Her eyes widened in pure horror.

Karina had casually reached down and grabbed the plastic handle of the forty-pound jug with one hand.

Without bending her knees, without bracing herself, and without a single grimace of effort, Karina lifted the massive jug straight up into the air like it was an empty plastic bottle.

Thump.

She slammed the heavy jug perfectly onto the cooler. Water bubbled loudly into the reservoir.

Dead silence filled the office. Rachel's jaw was practically on the floor. She looked at the massive water jug, then at Karina's slender, pale wrist.

"Did you... did you just... with one hand..." Rachel pointed a shaking finger at the cooler, unable to form a coherent sentence. "My God... did you join a secret CrossFit cult? Where the hell did you get that kind of strength?"

Karina pulled a paper towel and wiped her hand, her face completely blank. "What? You've never seen someone change a water jug?" In the war zone, sprinting with fifty pounds of ammo was a daily routine. This was nothing.

"No... I haven't..." Rachel swallowed hard. Suddenly, she realized that when Karina said she was going to 'tear them to pieces' last night, she wasn't using a metaphor. She meant it physically.

Rachel took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. A fanatical light ignited in her eyes. "Karina, listen to me. Keep this exact energy!"

"As long as you don't do anything stupid on that show, with this face and this aura, I guarantee you'll make a massive comeback!" Rachel slammed her hands on the desk, hyped.

Karina had zero interest in her motivational speech. "Give me the contract and the itinerary. Is the car downstairs?"

Rachel immediately grabbed the documents with both hands, offering them up respectfully. She escorted Karina to the elevator like a servant sending a queen off to war. "The car is ready. Go give them a little shock."