After the zombie fiasco, the production office of Zombie Carnival II was a battlefield of shattered coffee mugs, broken egos, and desperate brainstorming.
No one wanted to admit it, but the truth was obvious: Aria Lane had become the show.
And she wasn't even trying.
The director's voice cracked in the emergency meeting:
"She doesn't scream! She doesn't run! Even the zombies ask for her autograph! How do we film a horror show when the most terrifying person on set is the guest star?"
Someone in the corner mumbled, "Raise the difficulty?"
The room went quiet.
Then the producer smirked. "Fine. Let's make her sweat."
A week later, Aria received a call from her manager while she was peacefully frying dumplings at home.
"Aria, sweetheart," he began carefully, "the producers are bringing you back for a special challenge episode. Big budget. High stakes. Lots of cameras."
Aria flipped a dumpling with professional indifference. "What's the catch?"
"Uh… they, uh, said it's a more intense survival format."
She arched a brow. "Define intense."
"Three days. No supplies. No crew assistance. Abandoned quarry."
She blinked once. "Do I get to bring my pan?"
"…They begged me to make sure you don't."
She smirked. "Then I'm bringing two."
The day of filming, the crew arrived at a barren wasteland of cracked stone and dry wind.
It looked like a post-apocalyptic movie set, minus the snacks.
Aria stood at the drop-off point in her sunglasses, chewing gum.
The director approached, sweating already.
"Miss Lane," he said nervously, "we've made sure this time it won't be so… easy."
She glanced around. "You mean this quarry?"
"Exactly! No shelter, no food, no assistance!"
She squinted at a pile of conveniently placed boulders and wooden planks.
"So you want me to build a house?"
"No! I mean—you could—no!"
She smiled sweetly. "Good. Because I will."
Within thirty minutes of the cameras rolling, she'd done exactly that.
Using debris, tarp, and an old antenna, she built a stable shelter complete with a cooking firepit.
💬 "She's not surviving. She's thriving."
💬 "Did she just build a vacation home???"
💬 "Queen of turning suffering into lifestyle content 😭"
By noon, the other contestants were still panicking about rations.
Aria, meanwhile, had found a patch of wild greens, snared a rabbit, and was roasting it over her self-made fire.
A camera drone zoomed in as she sprinkled crushed instant noodle seasoning over the meat.
"This quarry has excellent dining potential," she said seriously.
💬 "She's turning survival into MasterChef."
💬 "I swear she's one sponsorship away from opening a Michelin bunker."
💬 "Someone stop her, I'm hungry."
The director watched the live feed in horror.
"She's supposed to struggle!"
His assistant shrugged. "Technically, she is struggling. To decide which sauce goes better."
"Raise the difficulty again!" he shouted. "Release the storm sequence!"
Dark clouds rolled in. Rain poured. The temperature dropped fast.
Aria sat under her makeshift shelter, calmly toasting bread over the fire.
Lightning flashed. Wind howled.
She looked up and said dryly, "Nice ambience."
The crew stared, soaked and miserable, as she continued her commentary.
"Today's lesson," she told the camera, "when life gives you a storm, use it to sear your food faster."
💬 "SHE'S UNKILLABLE 😭😭😭"
💬 "The producers gave her thunder and she made lunch."
💬 "This isn't survival, this is dominance."
By the second day, the production team had run out of sabotage ideas.
They sent fake 'wild animals,' triggered mechanical traps, and even cut her communications.
She just shrugged, adapted, and filmed a cooking tutorial using the traps as cookware.
"Multi-purpose design," she explained. "10/10 craftsmanship."
The comments went feral again.
💬 "Every show becomes a cooking show if she's in it."
💬 "The producers are crying in the corner."
💬 "I want to be her when the apocalypse comes."
That night, Aria roasted marshmallows over her fire, humming softly as the exhausted production team watched from a distance.
The director buried his face in his hands.
"She's breaking television logic."
Marcus, now quietly consulting again after his "retirement," smirked. "No. She's rewriting it."
On the final day, the crew tried one last stunt — they secretly planted a hidden drone loaded with AI behavior triggers to release smoke bombs if she came near.
Aria spotted it within minutes.
She crouched, smiled at the camera, and said,
"Someone's been naughty."
Then she picked up a stone and threw it.
Perfect hit.
The drone dropped like a fly.
She looked straight into the nearest camera.
"Next time," she said, "try something edible."
💬 "THAT LINE 😭😭😭😭"
💬 "She's roasting the crew now."
💬 "Honestly, she deserves to win by existing."
When the episode aired, ratings shattered every record.
Critics called it "a masterclass in unbothered excellence."
Fans crowned her officially: #QueenOfUnbotheredChaos.
And the producers?
They gave up.
The director resigned mid-season with a single note:
"I can't scare a woman who scares the weather."
At the end of the episode, Aria stood before the camera, pan slung over her shoulder, storm clouds glowing behind her like an action movie poster.
She smiled faintly.
"Difficulty," she said, "is just seasoning."
Then she walked off into the rain.