To Adah and Rika’s relief, what Grace wanted to talk about had nothing to do with them being late. Though, the way she refused to tell them what she wanted to talk about got them worried in a different way. Grace said their conversation should wait until after dinner, when all four girls were gathered. All that told Adah was that this must have been another discussion about the agency. They couldn’t possibly be going out of business again, so maybe this was good news?

  Grace had yet to finish cooking dinner, so Rika went upstairs to get the twins while Adah headed to the back office to update the whiteboard.

  The pieces of her grand plan were still scrambled, but slowly coming together to form a coherent shape. Adah had pushed her teammates to think about what factors were keeping them from becoming as strong or popular as they could be. Systematically knocking down those barriers would be their simplest path forward in the short term, and would help Adah determine a direction for the team as a whole.

  For Rika, the greatest challenge was the originality of her music. Covering the songs of more famous magical girls was a solid tactic for gaining fans at the start of your career, but the girls Rika used to cover were quickly becoming her direct competition. She needed her own songs and her own image. Ideally, new magical girls would start covering her music and make videos dancing to her choreography.

  In her own words, Emi wanted to stand out more. She had possibly the most dedicated fans out of anyone on their team, but her ability to gain new ones had completely stagnated. The way their duel against DreamRise had played out certainly hadn’t helped with that. Recognizing that, her immediate goal was to show off her skills in battle more. If the show business side of being a magical girl was difficult for her, why not focus on an area where she excelled?

  Ami had the least defined path forward of all the girls. At Ketzia’s cabin, she had made a point of becoming more than Emi’s shield, but what did she want to be instead? What was her first step toward becoming Untethered? Perhaps those kinds of questions were the barriers in front of her now. Although her teammates could help her progress, she’d ultimately have to choose her own path forward.

  To the extent that she could, Adah had been planning an overall direction for their team. This was something DreamRise had a clear vision of, with Iris as the charismatic leader of a trio of underdog misfits. It was an easy theme for fans to latch onto, and just as easy for their agency to market. Their sub-themes all fit neatly within this approach: Ekki as the loyal knight whose romance with his leader seemed to be eternally on the cusp of coming to fruition; and Clair as the outcast with a heart of ice who had finally found a home alongside her unlikely teammates.

  Iris, of course, designed so much of her team’s activity around this arrangement. The ship-baiting probably came natural with the way Ekki acted around her, so Iris really only needed to focus on promoting Clair. As such, she had set herself up to be a lens into a softer side of Sweetdream Soulslip. That had been why she’d posted that photo of Ekki and Clair napping, for example. Posts like that gave off this impression that, if you could break down her walls and enter her circle of trust, you could see this cute side of Clair too. Meanwhile, Clair herself could maintain her usual attitude.

  How, then, could Adah apply a similar strategy to her team? She and her teammates didn’t fit under one neat theme, but Adah was sure that their unity was even more genuine than a team like DreamRise. They were four magical girl rejects who wound up here because they had nowhere else to go, and despite all their mistakes, they were relentlessly climbing their way up the industry’s ladder. It seemed to Adah that Twilight Heartbreak couldn’t be the face of their agency the same way Iris was. The four of them had to be sold as a unit—a one-of-a-kind team with four wildly different styles of magical girl. Different yet cohesive, if that was possible.

  Over the past week, Adah had recruited the help of Michel and Seb to formulate some actionable steps to construct such an identity for their team. They came up with some ideas that they could deploy right away, like adapting a more team-oriented approach to social media. Right now, each girl usually posted on her individual account in isolation. They rarely interacted as team members online, in part because Adah and Rika were the only ones who posted as a matter of habit. The twins had to be forced to meet a quota set by Seb.

  If they wanted fans to see them as a unit, they had to present themselves as a unit. At least some of the time. They could start by taking advantage of their natural pairings: Adah and Rika, then Ami and Emi. Even though the twins wanted to distinguish themselves from each other, they couldn’t avoid the fact they were related. These pairings could lay a foundation of the relationships within their team. Then, once fans got acquainted with those, the girls could rearrange themselves into new groupings—each of which would inevitably highlight a new aspect of their personalities and comradery.

  In the absence of a straightforward theme, this genuine approach to marketing their team was their best bet. There was no need to be as calculated as DreamRise—they could simply let the world see into the natural dynamics of their team. Their ability to uplift each other was what had gotten them this far, after all.

  Focusing on their online presence was a start, but that would only do so much in terms of reaching new fans. The avenues for the kind of large scale growth they’d experienced during the IndieMagie were still blocked for them.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The most successful agencies got their talent in front of more eyes—and kept them there—thanks to high budget, high effort productions. Music videos, magazine shoots, variety shows, concerts, leading roles in TV dramas—the list went on. Sunbright had access to none of these options. Not in any professional sense.

  The girls were making more than enough money to keep the agency running, but hadn’t yet built up the capital reserves to reinvest much cash into the business. Hiring Seb was one thing, but booking a respected video director or putting together a grassroots concert would be out of reach until they’d saved up for at least another month. Nevermind the fact that Rika was the only one of them with any talent for show business. Girls with a bit of star power already behind them could get away with subpar singing or acting—fans could forgive idols for their shortcomings on account of the diversity of jobs they took on. However, no one at Sunbright had reached that level of recognition yet.

  Likewise, their industry connections were weak. Michel had some contacts in the modeling space he could pitch their team to, but even he wasn’t willing to stick his neck out for them when it came to acting. In reality, if they wanted to break into any mainstream part of the industry, they’d need to build their portfolios from the ground up until big-shot producers were willing to gamble on them. That’d most likely require bringing in voice or acting coaches to get their skills up to an acceptable level, which would require even more money.

  Those were the two windfalls they needed more than anything: an influx of cash and a guardian angel to pull some strings in the entertainment business for them.

  If they could get that ball rolling, though, Adah was certain their team could capitalize on it. Rika had the raw talent, and the twins had a natural charm to them that would shine in the right environment. As for Adah herself, she just wouldn’t quit until their team broke through to the mainstream.

  Every day, she felt herself grow more aligned with her Twilight Heartbreak persona. She’d been pushed to the point where the identity was no longer an expression of some broken part of her, but rather a force that encompassed all of her frustration. Twilight Heartbreak was a weapon she would wield no differently from her scythe. It was the best-fit tool for getting what she, Adah, wanted.

  The loss to DreamRise had been a hit to her ego, but it was the discovery of the humanoid Cruelties that defined her true goal.

  A destroyer could achieve the same ends as a protector. The world that other magical girls sought to create was also one where the average person didn’t need to worry about the Cruelties.

  On a cynical level, you could argue their idol-like activities were fueled by a desire for attention or money. Most likely that was true for many magic users. If not that, than perhaps the exhilaration of casting powerful spells, the thrill of battling monsters. Yet, all of this also gave the public peace of mind. The brighter magical girls shined, whether on the stage or in battle, the more secure people would feel under their protection. In the end, regardless of their motivations, every magic user was working to uplift humanity.

  So, if Adah’s reason for fighting and gaining fans was to grow powerful enough to destroy the Cruelties for good, was that any different? Did she need to hide that fact? Was there any reason to pretend to be a shining hero, something at odds with the soul of Twilight Heartbreak?

  She thought not. There would be fans who wanted a magical girl like that—a weapon that would grow in power until the destruction of the Cruelties was assured. There would be those who wanted her to surpass every purehearted heroine. And she would surpass them. She’d learn to outperform them in every regard, so that even those fans who wanted a sparkling hero to fly above the battlefield or a cute face to sing under the spotlight would be forced to acknowledge she had done it all better. Different, but better.

  Despite the fire burning in her belly, Adah was stymied by the same roadblocks as her teammates. Money, connections, and reputation. Those were the priorities, and her big dreams would have to wait until later.

  Adah scribbled some new notes on the whiteboard and then stepped back to review the many scattered thoughts that littered the board. Then, in the top left corner, she added the latest updates to their FP levels.

  Twilight Heartbreak

  FP: 5853 ?? 6012

  Shining Lyrika

  FP: 5401 ?? 5511

  Dazzling Dewdrop

  FP: 5002 ?? 5089

  Radiant Raindrop

  FP: 5122 ?? 5203

  Their progress was slow compared to the explosive growth they’d seen leading up to and during the IndieMagie, but that was to be expected. The fact that they hadn’t stagnated during this lull in action was a good sign. Slow growth was still growth—not to mention proof that their fans hadn’t lost interest in them.

  A deliberate pause in publicity could even work to their advantage. Adah knew from experience that fans had a tendency to theorize on the possibility of a big reveal whenever teams went radio silent for the right length of time. Of course, this was also true for bands, authors, game studios, or any artist in the public eye. The key was to stretch the silence just long enough, and then return with a sufficiently exciting announcement to justify all the anticipation the fans had built up among themselves.

  All the better if they could return to the spotlight in a way that wiped all memory of their IndieMagie loss from the fans’ minds. This was their team’s chance to break through that feeling of being trapped that had plagued them since their duel against DreamRise. The chance to compete again—not in a contest, but in the eyes of the public—was fast approaching.

  If their team handled this right, they could bridge the gap to their next FP threshold sooner than expected. As magic users leveled up, the distance between unlocks grew increasingly daunting. The girls’ next major upgrade was waiting for them at 10,000 FP, already doubling the 5,000 that had seemed insurmountable a month ago. The thresholds only got more extreme from there.

  Every increase in FP brought increased power, but those major breakpoints were what truly changed the way a magic user could fight. As such, they were the ever-shifting goal posts that kept teams grinding for every level up they could manage.

  Adah gave the whiteboard one last look. Her mind worked through every idea she’d had during the last week about how to boost her team’s momentum again. The IndieMagie was nearly over, which meant their opportunity to strike was nearly here.

  Speaking of—

  “Adah!” Ami yelled from the agency lobby. “You’re gonna miss it!”