"I could do all that to you as well," I said, my lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile. "I could strip you of your power just as easily. All it would take is a few posts, some well-placed, degrading little pieces of information. Enough to drag your rankings down even further than they already are."
The words hung in the air longer than they should have.
"Ha!" Luna laughed, though there was no warmth in it. "And you think you can make us end up like her?" She tilted her head slightly, her expression bored and detached. "Sam practically advertises the fact that she doesn't bathe. She's overly close with people in public, touches too much, and smiles too wide. Of course the public accepts that kind of bait. It fits her image."
Her gaze shifted back to me, and she was looking at me, very unimpressed.
"But us?" she continued. "You don't have anything on us. Nothing you could actually turn against us. Right?"
She sounded uninterested, as if this conversation didn't concern her in the slightest. Like she was already done with it.
And technically, she wasn't wrong.
At least, not yet.
"Well," I said, shrugging lightly, "I don't know about that."
She raised a brow.
"Considering you don't exactly shy away from being watched while relieving yourself," I continued evenly, "I'd say there's something pretty obvious there. I mean, think about it. How do you suppose people would react if the Goddess of Light—the one known for being pure, untouchable, and very angelic—turned out to be someone who records herself and lets countless strangers watch while she masturbates with a dildo?"
Her smile stiffened.
"Ha!" she scoffed again, louder this time. "My face is covered. Completely. My fans don't know a thing. They have faith in me. They believe I'm pure. Do you really think something like that would work on them?"
"Oh, absolutely," I replied, my tone light, almost amused. "Because I wouldn't even need to accuse you directly."
She frowned.
"All I'd have to do is post something innocent. Casual. Like—'Doesn't Lady Luna, the Goddess of Light, look kind of similar to that pornstar who shows herself off while masturbating live in front of thousands? The resemblance is weirdly close, don't you think?'"
I paused, letting the idea breathe.
"That's it. That's all it takes. I wouldn't be making claims. I'd only be planting a seed. And seeds don't need much. Doubt grows fast. Doubt turns into suspicion. Suspicion spreads. Screenshots get shared. People start comparing. Zooming in. Lining things up."
I leaned forward slightly.
"And once that happens, it's not in my hands anymore. Do you really think you're the one in control after that?"
Silence.
Luna didn't respond.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Honestly, I was surprised she hadn't thought of it herself.
Half her face had still been visible in those recordings. The shape of her mouth. The curve of her jaw. The way she tilted her head. It wasn't hard to notice. People probably just didn't want to.
They'd convinced themselves the woman on those videos couldn't be the Goddess they worshipped. That kind of contradiction made them uncomfortable, so they ignored it.
Maybe someone had noticed before.
Maybe someone had even brought it up.
But without momentum, without someone pushing the idea forward, it died quietly.
If I pushed it, though?
It wouldn't be quiet.
It would be a landslide.
"I don't think you have any right to do this to us," Vera cut in sharply. "We are Goddesses. What you're doing is hearsay."
I looked at her.
"You know what hearsay is?" I asked. "You not knowing how to throw away your own trash is hearsay. Do you think people would still adore you if they found out the Goddess of Speed lives like a pig, eating like one, and tossing garbage everywhere like one?"
Her eyes widened.
"What?! Pig?!" she snapped. "That's hearsay if I've ever heard it!"
"It really isn't," I replied calmly. "Want me to show them how you live? I've got receipts. Photos. Videos. Angles you probably forgot existed."
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
"Guh…"
She had nothing to say after that.
Watching it happen was almost disappointing. It was too easy.
Truth was, handling them wasn't difficult at all. Knowing their habits, their egos, their blind spots, all of it made things almost mechanical.
"Now," I said, straightening up, "I think you all understand something very important."
I glanced around the room, letting my gaze linger on each of them.
"You don't have control here. Not anymore. I may be your manager, but I'm not your caretaker. I'm not here to wipe your messes or pretend this is acceptable."
I gestured vaguely at the trash-filled lounge.
"So let's start with cleaning. And who knows? Maybe I'll be generous. Maybe I'll tell social media that I lied about Samantha not bathing. I could even provide something that 'proves' it, just enough to make people believe."
I smiled again.
"And if I don't? Well. Samantha's follower count can drop off a cliff overnight."
Samantha snarled, her fingers curling into fists.
"Damn you… stop fucking with me!" she barked. "I'm a Goddess! Why would I ever do something like that?!"
"Oh, that's fine," I replied casually. "Then I guess your popularity can keep sinking."
"You—" She glared at me so hard I could practically feel the heat. Flames danced faintly in her eyes.
For a brief moment, I genuinely thought she might attack.
"Sam, calm down," Lara finally said.
I'd been waiting for her voice.
Samantha hesitated, then clicked her tongue and stomped back to her chair, still shooting daggers at me.
"I think our new manager has a point," Lara said. "Up until now, we've pushed everything onto our managers. All of it. That's probably why they quit."
"Oh?" I said dryly. "Self-aware now?"
"Not really," she admitted. "I always thought it was because of what Eve put them through."
Eve—the Goddess of Darkness—stood silently in the corner, staring at nothing in particular. She hadn't reacted once. Horns curved from her head, and her expression was unreadable.
Out of all of them, she was the most unsettling.
"But," Lara continued, "you're right. We caused them stress. If you think this is what's best for us… then punish us for our ignorance, Manager."
She bowed.
The others stared at her like she'd lost her mind.
I smirked.
"Punish, huh?"
***
"You're enjoying this, aren't ya?" Samantha muttered.
She was scrubbing the floor, dressed in a maid uniform that looked far too ridiculous for a Goddess of Fire.
I, meanwhile, was stretched out on the couch, watching the news and crunching chips.
"Oh, immensely," I said. "Watching a Goddess clean her own filth is already entertaining. But the maid outfit really elevates the experience. I was worried my eyes might combust."
"I swear," she growled, "one day you'll fall off this building."
"That'd be murder," I replied lazily. "You don't want to become a witch, do you?"
Her teeth ground together audibly.
She couldn't kill me.
Goddesses were protectors.
And the moment a Goddess killed a human—
She stopped being a Goddess at all.
She'd become a Witch.