Goddesses.
That was what they were called.
Beings that stood above ordinary people.
They were existences blessed with power so overwhelming that, at one point in history, no one even dared to question them.
Their very presence alone was enough to inspire awe, fear, admiration, and sometimes blind devotion.
Their powers were not something they were simply born with.
No, their strength came from people.
From belief.
From admiration.
From those who wanted them to have power.
They were blessed so they could protect the world. That was the excuse, at least. That was the narrative everyone agreed on. They were protectors.
They were symbols of hope, strength, and safety.
They were born to protect.
And the more people adored them, the stronger they became.
Fans weren't just supporters.
They were fuel.
The cheers, the worship, the attention—
Every single bit of it fed directly into a Goddess's power.
But there was a catch.
When those fans disappeared, when interest waned and admiration faded, their power weakened alongside it.
Faith was a double-edged sword.
Which was exactly why there were countless programs designed specifically for the Goddesses to participate in.
Appearances, events, broadcasts—
Basically anything that kept their names circulating and their faces familiar.
Relevance was survival.
To keep their fans.
To gain more.
To make sure they never fell into obscurity.
And for that?
A manager was required.
Yes—Goddesses, much like artists or idols, needed managers.
Someone to schedule them. Control damage. Handle logistics. Keep their public image from imploding in real time.
Because, frankly speaking, most of them couldn't do it themselves.
"So… this is it?"
The words slipped out of my mouth as I stood there, staring up at the massive building looming in front of me.
It was tall.
And wide.
And mostly polished.
It was impressive in that cold, corporate kind of way.
This was one of the Goddess Headquarters.
It was a place where Goddesses were housed, monitored, and managed.
And this building, in particular, handled a lot of them.
I took a breath and...
Without hesitation, I walked inside.
For better or worse, this was going to be my home for the next five years.
I was about to become the next manager assigned to these Goddesses.
Not because I wanted to.
But because my sister said so.
To be completely honest, I had zero interest in becoming a manager.
Managing Goddesses sounded painfully unappealing.
It was stressful.
Tedious.
Probably thankless.
Definitely not something I ever dreamed of doing.
I could have been doing something else—anything else—but going against my sister wasn't exactly realistic.
She had that terrifying mix of authority and persistence that made refusal feel pointless.
She told me the previous manager had quit.
Quit.
For "reasons."
She never explained the details, but even then, it stuck with me.
I mean, who in their right mind quits a job managing Goddesses?
Isn't that supposed to be a dream position?
I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.
That was where the Goddesses stayed.
The top floor wasn't an office or some sacred chamber.
It was their lounge.
Their living space.
Where they spent most of their time when not being paraded around for the public.
The elevator hummed softly as it ascended.
The seconds felt longer than they should have.
Then it stopped.
The doors slid open.
And the moment they did, my expectations shattered.
"What the hell…?"
The words came out before I could stop them.
This wasn't a divine sanctuary.
This was a disaster.
Clothes were strewn everywhere.
There were shirts, shorts, jackets, things I couldn't even identify... all scattered across the floor like someone had detonated a wardrobe.
Trash was piled up in one corner.
Wrappers, boxes, empty containers.
They were all thrown together with zero concern.
The smell alone hinted that no one had cleaned this place in a long time.
One of them—clearly a Goddess I was meant to manage—was sitting on a couch wearing nothing but her panties.
She wasn't wearing any top.
And clearly, she had no shame as well.
She was staring at her phone while brushing her teeth, foam lazily dripping as she scrolled.
Red hair.
Wild, untamed red hair.
She looked like a feral creature masquerading as a divine being.
Her hair was messy, dry, and clearly hadn't seen shampoo in days.
She gave off the strong impression that personal hygiene was more of a suggestion than a rule.
I snorted without meaning to.
Nearby, another Goddess was running on a treadmill.
Fast.
Unnaturally fast.
She wore sportswear, her legs moving in a blur as the treadmill hummed loudly beneath her.
The settings were clearly maxed out, yet she didn't even look strained.
If anything, she looked bored.
Short blue hair framed her face, and it was damp with sweat.
She clearly liked exercise.
That said, discipline only went so far.
Empty soda bottles and pizza boxes were everywhere.
They were stacked high, layered messily, and they were forming a mountain of garbage that looked like it could collapse if someone breathed too hard.
Not just a few.
A lot.
I just stood there, staring, genuinely impressed in the worst way possible.
"Oi. Who are you?"
The red-haired woman finally acknowledged my existence.
If memory served me right, this had to be Samantha who was known as the Goddess of Fire. Also known as the Fiery Goddess.
Some claimed the title came from her abilities.
Others said it was because of her personality.
Looking at her now, I figured it was both.
Her power was fire.
She looked at me like I was beneath her.
Which was funny, considering she was sitting half-naked in a garbage dump.
"I believe you've already been informed," I said, keeping my voice calm as I bowed. "But since your previous manager resigned, it was decided that I would replace them."
She was still a Goddess. Respect was expected, even if she looked like she slept in trash.
"Oh. Really?" she said. "Don't remember that."
She turned slightly. "Hey, Vera! Did management say anything about getting a new manager?"
"Ah… uh…" the blue-haired girl replied lazily. "I wasn't listening. Why don't you ask Ella?"
She chugged another bottle of coke in one go while she was never breaking stride before tossing it onto the floor with the others.
This one was Vera.
The Goddess of Speed.
Granted power beyond human limits and was capable of turning motion itself into a weapon.
Fast.
Powerful.
And apparently allergic to trash cans.