I end the call before he can suggest anything involving territorial displays or ritual combat.
Perhaps seeking advice from someone whose idea of romance involves clubbing potential mates unconscious was unwise.
But the conversation clarifies one thing: if Trinity was courting me, I need to respond appropriately. Not with flowers or perfume, but in ways that honor both her customs and mine. Show her I can provide. Protect. Be worthy of the gift she offered.
A knock interrupts my planning. "Mr. Dongoran?" A production assistant's voice, nervous and high-pitched. "The producers would like to see you in Conference Room B."
I find them clustered around tablets and coffee cups, their faces bright with the particular malice of people who've discovered something exploitable.
"Korgan! Fantastic work tonight." Marcus, the head producer, gestures to a chair. "That moment with Trinity was pure gold. The chemistry, the tension—our focus groups are going crazy."
I sit carefully, keeping my expression neutral. "You filmed us."
"Well, yes. That's the show." He waves dismissively. "The point is, we want to capitalize on this momentum. Build the narrative."
"Narrative."
"Tomorrow's challenge is perfect. We're doing competing dates, you and Trinity versus one of our other bachelor-contestant pairs. A little friendly competition to see which couple has the strongest connection."
Something cold settles in my stomach. "What manner of competition?"
"Oh, the usual. Physical challenges, trust exercises, maybe a bit of comedy. We've got this amazing obstacle course set up, some hilarious costumes..." He flips through his tablet. "Trinity will love the surprise element."
"What surprise element?"
"Well, we can't tell you everything. That would ruin the spontaneity." His smile turns sharp. "But don't worry—we'll make sure she looks adorable struggling through it."
The cold in my stomach turns to ice. "Struggling."
"In a cute way! Audiences love watching the underdog overcome obstacles. We might have a few technical difficultieswith her equipment. Nothing dangerous, just enough to create dramatic tension."
I understand now. They plan to humiliate her for entertainment. Make her fail publicly while I succeed, creating their precious narrative of the strong orc rescuing the helpless human.
"No."
Marcus blinks. "Excuse me?"
"I will not participate in sabotaging Trinity for your cameras."
"Sabotage is such an ugly word. We prefer 'creative storytelling.'" He leans forward. "Look, Korgan, we both know why you're here. Image rehabilitation, right? For your people? This storyline works for everyone. You look protective and heroic, she looks endearing and relatable, and our ratings go through the roof."
"At her expense."
"She signed the same contracts you did. She knows what she's getting into."
"She signed contracts to compete fairly. Not to be made a fool of."
Marcus's expression hardens. "We can edit this footage any way we want. Make you look like the villain or the hero. Your choice."
Threat. Direct and unmistakable. I've heard its like from human officials before, the suggestion that cooperation brings rewards while resistance brings consequences.
In war, such threats would be answered with violence. Here, I must choose my weapons more carefully.
I stand slowly, letting my full height register. "You will treat Trinity with respect during tomorrow's challenge. You will not sabotage her equipment or create artificial difficulties. Anytechnical problems will be genuine accidents, not manufactured drama."
"Or what?"
"Or I will ensure that every camera in that room mysteriously malfunctions during the most dramatic moments." I lean forward, placing my hands flat on the table. The wood creaks. "Repeatedly."
