"I want to use the restroom first," Baby Carter said again.

The middle-aged woman sneered, "Go ahead, it's fine if you come back after lunch. There are more interviewees this afternoon anyway."

Baby Carter walked out of the meeting room, and the interviewers behind her no longer suppressed their voices:

"This girl has great potential."

"She really does. Her looks and figure are outstanding, but the entertainment industry isn't just about being pretty."

The middle-aged woman sneered coldly, "Girls these days all have such big egos, especially the pretty ones—they think they're the center of the world. In the end, they're just aiming too high."

The middle-aged woman's name was William Grant. Though women are said to be jealous, as a woman in her middle age, she wasn't really out to get Baby Carter for no reason. In fact, she had her own motives. The company was only offering six contracts this time: three C-level and three D-level. Over the past few days, a few promising newcomers had already signed, and the interviewers had two contracts left: one C-level and one D-level. The C-level contract was already reserved for someone with connections, and as for the remaining D-level contract, William Grant wanted to save it for her niece who had just graduated from the Shanghai Theatre Academy.

She had already coordinated with a few colleagues and made arrangements in all aspects. Some hadn't agreed, but they didn't object either, like Mr. Bolton, who had basically given tacit approval.

But the moment she saw Baby Carter, she felt uneasy. This little vixen was just too eye-catching. As soon as she walked in, the eyes of several older men—old enough to be her father—lit up like light bulbs. Fortunately, this girl was just a pretty face. If this seductive girl had both looks and talent, the D-level contract would be gone for sure. In her view, Baby Carter asking to use the restroom was just an excuse to give herself a way out.

To be fair, William Grant had guessed right.

James Carter saw his sister walk out with a gloomy face. The siblings exchanged a silent look—no words were needed; their expressions said it all.

"Didn't get in?" James Carter's heart sank.

"I've got the looks and the figure, so why wouldn't they want me? They said I have no talent, no skills, and that I'm old? I'm only twenty-five, okay? Still young and fresh—how am I old?" Baby Carter complained to her brother.

"I told you there was no way you'd make it. You're already twenty-five, you haven't had any professional training, you can't sing, and you think you can make it in showbiz just on your looks? There are beautiful women everywhere," James Carter said, his face pale.

"Why are you just like them?" Baby Carter glared at him, aggrieved. "I got mad and told them I could compose and write songs. They said they really wanted to worship my work. Luckily, I was smart enough to use the bathroom as an excuse to escape. Let's run away—this is so embarrassing. If they don't want me here, someone else will... Hey, why do you look so awful?"

This woman was more trouble than help.

James Carter didn't just look awful—his heart felt ice-cold.

Mission failed!

Points reset to zero!

System will select a new host!

Before leaving, it would even drain his body's energy, turning him into a vegetable. So young, and he hadn't even held a girl's hand yet—game over before it even started!!

To describe his mood with a poem: "The Peach Blossom Pool is a thousand feet deep, but not as deep as the death my sister brings me."

James Carter understood—painfully understood—that even if the final boss had only one drop of health left and would die with a single touch, a newbie like him was just as likely to die with a single touch in the boss's eyes.

I really have no advantage at all.

He couldn't help but complain, "That so-called connection your former boss had was just to get you an interview slot, right?"

At that moment, the long-lost system voice sounded in his mind:

"Ding!"

"Mission item activated. Please check promptly, host."

James Carter froze, then realized something. With trembling hands, he opened the system interface and tapped on the mission item.

This is...

"System, is this a song?"

"Yes. It's a newbie mission, so of course it can't be 'hell' mode. The host just needs to win effortlessly."

"Effortlessly, huh? I almost peed myself," James Carter grumbled. "Import it to my phone."

"Imported..."

"Jie, I have a song here," James Carter took out his phone and opened "Local Music." He didn't have his headphones, but that was fine—Baby Carter had some in her bag. Their phones were a matching couple's set, a birthday gift from Baby Carter last year.

Baby Carter looked at him in confusion, not understanding why her brother was acting so jumpy.

James Carter brushed aside her hair, put on the headphones for her, and while pressing play, said, "This is a song I wrote. I recorded it in a studio at the beginning of the year. I just wanted a keepsake, but I didn't expect it to come in handy."

James Carter had always been a good liar—he made up the story in a second.

A look of surprise appeared on Baby Carter's beautiful face, slowly turning into enchantment. The song was only three minutes long and ended quickly. She parted her red lips: "This... this is a song you wrote?"

"Yeah." James Carter pulled her up and pushed her toward the meeting room. "Now's not the time to talk nonsense. Get in there, keep the headphones on. Whether you succeed or fail depends on you."

Baby Carter walked into the meeting room, still confused.

The interviewers were already tidying up their files, drinking tea, and getting ready to leave.

"Why are you back?" William Grant was surprised.

"To sing," Baby Carter lifted her snow-white chin, like a proud swan.