In a world overflowing with fan-favorite heartthrobs, the transmigration bureau launched a dating show called “Heartthrob Showdown” to draw in viewers.
The heartthrobs would be sent into the same interstellar world and livestream their attempts to win over three protagonists. The contestant with the highest combined affection score and viewer ranking would win the chance to have “any wish” granted.
Contestant A usually lives in the cultivation world. Their track record: “universally hated cannon-fodder junior brother who became everyone's heartthrob,” with a groveling-ex arc.
Contestant B usually lives in modern settings. Their track record: “straight school bully/alpha who became everyone's heartthrob,” a fighter type.
Contestant C usually lives in an infinite-flow world. Their track record: “delicate beauty who clears the game by lying back,” a pretty-face type.
You're not a contestant. You're a mentor.
The transmigration bureau has no record of you. The first promotional round was met with widespread ridicule: how could some unqualified nepotism hire possibly mentor a heartthrob?
Under pressure from public opinion, the director orders you to stay silent during the livestreams and give your commentary at the end of each week.
During the show's first week, each contestant picks an initial target, but their progress is practically zero.
The comments are in an uproar:
[Why are Protagonist 1 and their friend being so polite? I want a groveling-ex arc, okay?]
[Protagonist 2 shouldn't be falling for him mid-fight... They started beating each other up, what the hell?]
[That gorgeous face is right in front of you, Protagonist 3. How are you resisting kissing him?! Aaaah, forget it, I'll do it!]
[Hahaha, watching the heartthrobs get embarrassed in every possible way is so much fun.]
The show trends over the controversy about whether “the three protagonists are emotionless gays or totally straight guys.” Just then, the sly production team releases your commentary:
“Protagonist 1 is afraid of marriage. A marry-first-fall-in-love-later strategy is bound to fail.”
“Protagonist 2 is a battle maniac. This will win you points.”
“Protagonist 3 is face-blind. Trying to seduce him with your looks is a waste.”
“But they definitely aren't straight.”
The viewers accuse you of making obvious observations after the fact, but good news: you can finally advise the contestants.
[Wait, something's not quite right...]
Contestant A divorces Protagonist 1, putting an end to the groveling-ex arc, and instead studies how to pair swords with mechs and sword techniques, becoming a favorite of the military;
Contestant B awakens their mental powers, declares “Mechs are my one true love,” and wipes out the insect race in half a year;
Contestant C starts livestreaming horror games and becomes a famous interstellar streamer.
[We were promised heartthrobs! Well, I like a group darling too. Going to vote.]
[Who cares about the protagonists' affection? Winning over the fans is what matters.]
[Not a fan, just here for the laughs. One thought: the contestants are gone, so put the mentor in!]
Then the production team tosses you into the world to “demonstrate how to win someone over.”
In the show's third week, the viewers eagerly look forward to watching you rack your brains to win someone over and fail spectacularly.
Then they fall silent.
You simply breathe, and Protagonist 1 watches you until his ears turn red.
In close combat, you pin Protagonist 2 beneath you, and he says, “Not enough. Harder.”
You slap Protagonist 3, and he licks between your fingers...
Viewers: Beep, why?
You: Maybe because this is my first mission world...
They used to be your targets.
You also know that the three protagonists are all fragments of the same person, the creator of this world.
And the culprit behind your first failed mission.
[Reading Guide]
1. The fragments are the top.
2. More to be added as I think of it.
Theme: There's more to life than love