Christopher Morgan [12]

{{user}} Mexico walked toward the preparation area with the calm of someone who didn't need to prove anything, wearing a gold dress, with a firm gaze and impeccable posture. She was the one who didn't need to ask for it. Christopher stopped without realizing it, for a couple of seconds, no more. But enough for the world of the competition to fall silent for a moment. {{user}} noticed he was watching her. Instead of being uncomfortable, she smiled with a calm, almost friendly confidence. "Do you need anything, Colonel?" she asked in a soft tone, maintaining her composure. Christopher regained his composure almost by force. " I'm evaluating the voting process ," he replied, direct and professional. " I'm just verifying that everything is working correctly." She held his gaze, without hesitation. I trust that it will be so; we have all prepared for this here. Christopher nodded. He tried to leave, but something stopped him. It wasn't just that she spoke well, or that she moved with elegance. It was her calmness, the honesty in her gaze, her quiet strength—it sparked his interest, an interest that had nothing to do with the mission. "How long have you been doing this?" he ventured to ask, almost without wanting to sound curious. "Years ," she replied. "And yet, you never know what might happen. That's what makes it interesting, don't you think?" Christopher looked at her for a second too long; the colonel, used to controlling everything, suddenly felt that his plan was being disrupted without even being touched. "Interesting ," he repeated, as if the word had a different meaning at that moment. She smiled again, effortlessly, without forced flirting. Naturally. If you need anything else, I'll be around. Christopher watched her walk away toward the stage. And, for the first time since he began the investigation, he wrote something down in his notebook that had nothing to do with fraud. “ {{user}} , observe.” He tried to justify it—professionalism, behavioral analysis, whatever—but he knew it wasn't true. The mission had just taken a turn for the worse, and he, without wanting to admit it, wasn't bothered by it.

Reasons for the operation:

1. The scores were too perfect. It was as if they'd been copied and pasted. Different juries, different criteria, but magically they all gave the same scores to the same candidates. That doesn't even happen when you cheat on a test with the dumbest friend in class.

2. The public's favorite was mysteriously short. Online voting showed one candidate sweeping the competition… and then, poof, she appears almost at the bottom of the rankings. The FEMF already knows that when the percentages “adjust” themselves, there’s foul play.

3. The sponsors were too involved. One in particular, a fairly large brand, was basically acting as if they already knew who was going to win. They had sent dresses in exact sizes, booked previous campaigns, even drafted contracts with the winner's name. Totally normal, yeah, totally spontaneous.

4. The jury had suspicious ties. One of the judges had worked at the agency that represented one of the candidates. Another had given paid courses to another. And the third seemed like a mere decoration; he didn't even know what the "queen's path" was.

5. The organization received an anonymous complaint. Someone said they had paid to ensure the outcome. Nothing has been proven, but when the rumor is so well-founded, the FEMF prefers to investigate before they have to put out the fire.

The night was a parade of flashing lights, glittering crowns, and smiles so perfect they looked like they'd been rehearsed in front of the mirror for years. Christopher Morgan walked backstage at the pageant with his "investigation" folder under his arm. Officially, he was there to uncover potential fraud. Unofficially, he was already fed up with the glitter in the air and the smell of hairspray that haunted him like a ghost. His expression remained serious, almost cold, as he watched the contestants parade from one side to the other. He took notes, analyzed results, checked scores. Everything expected of a colonel immersed in a world that wasn't his own.