The Collegial Correspondence

Lyn drifted into the room and dumped the few letters and small gift bags across the desk.

The very first thing Jocelyn did was reach forward and pluck the basket straight off Lyn’s head.

It was a small woven thing, neatly packed with an assortment of cheese wheels and cured meats. Nestled among them sat an ornate glass vial, teardrop in shape with shimmering gold liquid contained within, even the stopper was gold.

Jocelyn lifted it delicately between two fingers, squinting at the contents before unfolding the attached letter.

Salutations, I must say you have certainly made an impact, Spectre. A full cast of the deceased? Inspired! Dangling hope and a second chance at life? You have them by the throat from the start. Don’t be discouraged by the naysayers, you are doing a delightful job keeping your Master and contestants in line. You know what’s best for them after all. As one fledging host to another, I am rooting for you and can say with full sincerity- nothing is as satisfying as the sensation when you finally find your footing. I will not advise you, as your trials are your own, and I will not feign conceit that I know better. If I am to impart any words of wisdom to you, it is this: Do not doubt yourself, and fuck those who get in your way.

“Well,” Jocelyn snorted, bumping Lyn with her elbow, “I’d certainly like to get in his way, if you know what I mean.”

Lyn stared back at her with the same smile she always wore, offering no reaction whatsoever.

I have attached a small basket of preserved meats and cheeses. I do not know if you are capable of ingestion, so do with them as you will, but I have also included a small sample from hell of Elysium Ambrosia, which I know spirits regularly imbibe. From one flickering spirit to another, In culo alla balena!

-Lucian Medici

“Huh?” Jocelyn frowned at the page. “What does that mean? Lyn, translate.”

“Whale butt!”

“What? What do you mean whale butt?”

Lyn responded with an exaggerated thumbs-up.

“…Right.” Jocelyn set the letter down slowly. “Ugh, do I have to write back to these?”

Lyn shrugged.

“It’s probably the polite thing to do…”

Jocelyn looked down at the desk again, fingers drumming against the wood as she stared at the name at the bottom of the page.

“Guess I’m actually one of the hosts now… heh.”

She picked up a fountain pen and began writing.

Dear Lucian, I hope this letter finds you well.
Thank you for your kind words and welcoming gifts. I must say I am quite surprised to receive such a warm welcome from the Lucian Medici. And if you don’t mind me saying, I am admittedly somewhat of a fan.
Given our similar predicaments, I will say that my interest comes in part from seeing another spirit succeed; it certainly fills me with hope for my own future, but I can assure you I enjoy your show for more than just my own self-fulfillment.
Perhaps if you ever find yourself with some free time, we could catch a drink together? Maybe even share this ambrosia you so kindly provided.
Sincerely.
Jocelyn.

She leaned back, rereading it once, then twice.

“Is that coming on too strong?” she muttered to herself. “Ahhh, whatever. It’s fine, worst he can say is no.”

She folded the letter quickly before she could overthink it and set it aside for Lyn to collect.

“Oooh, let's see what's in this one.”

She reached for one of the gift bags with a letter tied neatly to the handle, tugged it loose, and unfolded the page.

Congratulations on the new season. I noted that all of your contestants are American so I sent you this Irish spirit to make up for it. The Irish for whiskey, Uisca Beathe, means 'water of life.' I thought you might appreciate that. You have the makings of a fine season, with contestants that have every reason to work with you. Shame you've chosen to mar that with antagonism and belittlement. I can only assume you've watched the darker seasons in preparation, or perhaps your mentor was among them. Regardless, there are better ways than goading someone into an undeserved punishment to get things started. Still, best wishes as you find your way forward. And remember that bluster is not confidence. My line is always open if you wish to chat.
-Shar.

Jocelyn’s shoulders slowly tightened as she reached the end, her smile thinning until it vanished entirely.

“Honestly… who the hell does she think she is?”

She crumpled the bottom edge of the letter slightly between her fingers before catching herself and smoothing it back out, very deliberately not looking at it anymore.

“Thinking she can tell me how to run my show…” she scoffed, a little too loudly for an empty room. “Whatever. I know better than to mess with the vampire host.”

She grabbed the bag and pulled out the bottle inside — an aged glass decanter, heavy in the hand, labeled Jameson Rarest Vintage Reserve.

Jocelyn stared at it for a moment.

“…And I don’t even like whiskey.”

She set it down with a dull clink

Jocelyn stared at the bottle for another moment before sharply clapping her hands together.

“Right. Fine. Professional correspondence. I can do professional.”

She scooted herself closer to the desk with an unnecessary amount of **** before dragging a fresh sheet of paper toward her. The fountain pen hovered above it, the nib trembling faintly while she decided what she even wanted to write for this one.

“Polite,” she muttered. “We are being polite. Gracious. Host to host.

The pen touched down.

Dear Shar,

She paused.

The ink slowly pooled where the tip rested, a small dark dot spreading wider the longer she didn’t move.

Jocelyn exhaled through her nose and continued.

Thank you for your thoughtful gift and well wishes regarding the season. I appreciate your concern and the time you took to share your perspective.
I assure you, every decision I make is with purpose. First impressions are important, and establishing stakes early ensures the participants understand the seriousness of the opportunity they have been given.
However, I will keep your advice in mind moving forward.

She leaned back slightly, squinting at the page, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to start over.

“Good enough.”

—Jocelyn

“Right, next one”

Jocelyn leaned over and grabbed the next gift bag, this one noticeably larger than the last, the handles tugging slightly against her fingers from the weight. A thick envelope hung from the side by a small ribbon, several pages folded within.

To the Host that is a Ghost,
I happened to have caught your opening ceremony on Harem Hotel Hereafter during one of my evening research sessions and thought I should offer some advice, for whatever it would be worth. As someone that went through the process on the other side of the Master Suite, I have... opinions.

“Oh, great,” she muttered flatly, “somebody else to tell me how to run my show.”

I have been categorizing hosts as I dabble in more seasons. It helps me to work through things as I prep to be on that side of the show myself. The default is “incompetent evil,” as the track record of hosts actually surviving their first season free of both their first Master and the pit of infinite fire snakes is embarrassingly low. Sure, a fair few, like Arabella, rise up to “one of the few good ones”, but, usually a host devolves into one of a few worse categories: competent evil (I know everyone brings up Yuki, but I’ll give the nod to Kendra for the sake of variety), deceptive evil (competent evil hiding the darkness in their heart for reasons, like [REDACTED]), arbitrary evil (competent evil that disrespects the show to the point of warping the game against a contestant, such as Aurora). Trust me, you don’t want Yuki’s reputation.

“And i dont want it, I plan to forge my own reputation, you imbecile.”

I get first episode jitters, but you did not exactly make a good impression there, champ. This first complaint is admittedly a little petty but, when a contestant expresses a request to be addressed by a reasonable nickname, like Babs did, you should respect that. She died in the 50’s, I think, where Babs would have been a perfectly acceptable shortening of Barbara. If it annoys you, play with it instead. Make the Tiny Toons reference and offer up a transformation to make her a pink-furred bunny girl. I get that she’s a ghost in a manikin, but she’d be waaaay hotter not looking like a human (stupid cat allergy transformation...).

“Champ?” Her brow twitched. “Who does this person think they are?”

The apparent bias against April, however, is a much greater sin. That “Third Wheel” transformation should not have even been an option. The fact that it was a distant third meant that it was not something the degenerate perverts that make up the audience of our interdimensional smut show wanted. To veto the vote to shove that on her is fucking monstrous. You do realize that you have made her odds of avoiding elimination significantly worse with that, right? Especially as introverted as she seems (or so traumatized from something that she turned herself into a hermit), that girl will NEED one-on-one time with Jason to even form a relationship and you stole her best chance of getting it by robbing her of her private dates. You hurt the other contestants to a lesser extent as you robbed them of some one-on-one time. Whether the knife was thrown into a truly random wheel or one you rigged to hit on Babs is irrelevant. You made the game worse, just to preserve your shooting schedule. The game requires some amount of flexibility; you should accommodate the players, not **** them to bend to you.

“That wasn’t even my—” She stopped herself, jaw tightening. “…ugh, whatever.”

So, you got a chance to fix that now. Shove an upgrade in the shop for her to be able to get some privacy with Jason. Make it something she can afford within a round or two. Don’t earn being categorized in my mind as another Aurora. If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s an unfair judge.
Enough negativity. This is my first time writing one of these letters, so I’m not quite sure how to approach the gift thing. For one, I don’t exactly want to do the passive aggressive asshat gift, like Lucy’s durians. Secondly, what does one get a ghost? Are you capable of interacting with the material world or do you just manifest items to act like you can? The joys of watching a magic show via my new world’s equivalent of a TV makes parsing some things difficult.

“My gift from Lucian didn't seem passive-aggressive, but sure.”

Hoping it’s something that you can manipulate, I have attached a fun toy for entertaining your new Master. He did say he was an ass guy. Maybe you should have given his companions some options to improve the feature he likes so much. Enjoy.
Regards,
-Tyalangan
P.S Check out the upcoming new season, Harem Hotel: Woo the Girl, Save the World

“And obviously after all that they’re just trying to get me to watch their season. Wonderful.”

She lowered the letter and stared at it for a second longer before folding it with precise care and setting it aside.

“…What’s in this anyway.”

Jocelyn reached into the bag and pulled out a large box, the attached card dangling from a string. She lifted it to eye level and read aloud.

“Twerker’s Theremin?”

Twerker’s Theremin. The attuned wielder of this theremin can cast Irresistible Dance through it. The theremin will maintain concentration, and the spell will refresh so long as the song continues. The target of Irresistible Dance will twerk in an increasingly erotic fashion. Once the spell is cast through the theremin, this property cannot be used again until the next moonrise.

"Huh...”

She turned the box slightly in her hands, the corners of her mouth curling back upward.

“…This could be useful.”

Jocelyn plucked a fresh sheet of paper from the stack, smoothing it flat with the side of her hand before dipping her pen into ink. She paused only a moment, lips pursed in thought, then began to write.

Dear Tyalangan,
How thoughtful of you to dedicate so much time and energy to analyzing my debut performance. I must say, it is reassuring to know my show has already inspired academic critique.
You speak of categories, reputations, and cautionary tales as though the stage were a ledger to be balanced and not, in fact, a performance to be commanded. I appreciate the concern, but I assure you — I am neither interested in inheriting another host’s legacy nor avoiding it. I intend to create my own. And as for my contestants, they are quite resilient, I promise you. The game tests them, as it must, and I would hardly be doing them a kindness by cushioning every fall. Growth rarely occurs in comfort, after all.
Your suggestions regarding accommodations have been noted. Whether they are acted upon will depend on what makes the better show, which, ultimately, is what all of this exists for.
Now, regarding your gift: it’s certainly inventive, I'm sure it will find its use at some point.
I wish you luck in your own future endeavors on this side of the curtain.
—Jocelyn

“God these letters are getting tiring to write, next!”

Jocelyn rolled her wrist once to ease the stiffness, then reached for the next envelope and slit it open with the tip of her pen.

Dear Jocelyn,
You have an excellent season setup, and I try to catch episodes off duty. My one major piece of advice is that you should not ever be scared to manipulate or otherwise control the master, just like you would a contestant. Masters often don't know what's best for them, and sometimes the contestants need help from you to get them to realize that.
Sincerely,
-Vizrokoth

“Well,” she said, a pleased hum slipping into her voice, “finally somebody else who gets it.”

She leaned back in her chair, tapping the paper lightly against her palm while she thought.

“Hmmm… Vizrokoth…” she murmured, squinting upward toward nothing in particular as she searched her memory. “Wasn’t she the demon with the monster girl season? I’m almost certain I caught an episode or two. Very dramatic.

Dear Vizrokoth
It is wonderful to hear from another host who understands that gentle guidance can’t always get the ball rolling the way we want. I thank you for your advice and look forward to any future correspondence.
Regards.
-Jocelyn.

Jocelyn reached towards the pile of letters once again and Lazily grabbed whatever she could off the top.

Instead of paper, her fingers lifted a stiff square of card. She turned it over once in her fingers before looking at the front.

A completely white six-by-six Rubik’s cube floated in the center of the image, suspended in front of a spiralling red and blue vortex. She narrowed her eyes at it briefly, then flipped it over.

“Huh, cute…” Jocelyn chuckled at the delightful presentation of the message

Jocelyn turned the postcard over in her fingers once more, tilting it toward the lamplight as the glossy surface caught a faint shimmer. She reread the two different messages, her smile thinning slightly at the line about April before smoothing out again.

“I guess I should send them something similar back…”

Jocelyn lifted her cane and gave the floor a light tap. With a soft pop and a puff of pale glittering mist, a postcard appeared neatly atop the desk, the cover showed a cartoonish little ghost floating cheerfully while holding a sign that read THANK YOU in bubbly lettering.

She smiled faintly at that. “Adorable.”

Flipping it over, she leaned against the desk and began writing.

“Alright, that's one more down, looking like 2 more to go”

She looked between the single remaining card and the final gift bag

“That one looks fancy, I'll save it for last.” she says before leaning forward and grabbing the final letter. She tore it open

Hello, it's great to meet you Jocelyn. I know we're not meeting meeting, but it's the first that we get to talk to each other, and I think we could get along well. You remind me a lot of another host I got to make friends with when I came back recently. I'm not sure if you've had a chance to meet her. Her name's Sally?

Jocelyn paused and leaned back in thought

“Sally? Sally Sally Sally… the name is familiar…”

Would it be rude to ask what it's like to come back from the dead? I've wondered about it sometimes, and most of the people I've asked before didn't want to answer. You can skip this question if you don't want to answer either, I wouldn't want to offend you but you seem pretty easygoing. How easy is it for you to interact with things and people as a ghost? I know, I'm getting nosy. It's another curiosity of mine that you can feel free to ignore if it's too much. I just know with how cuddly I and some of my favorite people are, it'd hurt not to have that.
Sometime if our challenges line up well enough time wise, would you want to get together? My great-nephew Buck has a spirit for everyone, and so we could throw something together, get to know the neighborhood better, whatever you want. If you ever need I'm always willing to give advice. I'll include my number if you want to chat or coordinate anything!
Love, Genet

“Oh wow, I remember hearing about Genet but hearing from her is a whole different thing, she is ridiculously sweet, what do you think lyn?”

“Cute!”

“Yes, she really is, isn’t she…” Jocelyn murmured, tapping the letter lightly against the desk as she reread it, her expression settling into something thoughtful. “She even included her number… but it would feel rude not to write back properly.”

She lingered in silence for a moment longer, staring at the page.

“Ah, screw it — everyone else got one.”

She dipped the pen and began writing.

Dear Genet, it was positively delightful to receive your letter. Far too many hosts think it fit to lecture me just because I’m a newbie, you seem quite easy-going yourself and I’d love to answer many of your questions, maybe over a drink sometime?
I did extend a similar offer to Lucian, so maybe we could make it a group thing?
Regards
-Jocelyn

Jocelyn folded the letter neatly and set it atop the growing pile before her attention drifted to the final delivery still waiting patiently on the desk.

“Hope it was worth it… been saving you for last,” she murmured.

She leaned forward and pulled the remaining gift bag toward herself. The bag itself was striking — metallic green, its surface covered in intricate geometric patterns stamped in gold that shimmered faintly in the lamplight.

Her curiosity at its peak now, she slipped a hand inside and lifted out a bottle of champagne, the glass cool and faintly misted.

Attached to the neck was an envelope.

The paper was crisp, subtly off-white, and sealed carefully with a drop of deep green wax that suggested far more deliberation had gone into this than the casual correspondences she’d opened so far.

Jocelyn’s brows lifted.

She broke the seal and unfolded the letter with a growing smile, the page revealing a message written in a sharp, slanting hand.

Dearest Jocelyn.
Welcome to the club!
Congratulations on a largely successful premiere. Your season has such a unique premise and it caught my eye while it was still early in the development pipeline. I must say that its fruition has not disappointed.
You certainly seem to have a flair for the dramatic, which should serve you well going forward. So many recent Hosts seem to forget that at the end of the day Harem Hotel is, at its core, entertainment. Currently, there’s one too many “pet projects” being run under the guise of working a season for my taste, but I suppose that’s ultimately between those Hosts and their producers. In any case, I appreciate any Host that can put on a good show.

“Honestly, it’s nice to really be appreciated for the work I have been putting in, see Lyn? Some people get it.”

Having said that, it might do you good to rein in your emotions some when you’re in front of the camera. You’re a professional now, darling, try to act like one.

“Nevermind…”

It’s up to you to keep all the plates spinning, and as long as you keep your cool and do it with a smile, no one will notice the mistakes. And if they do? Just hit the audience with some drama, a little T&A, and you’ll be fine.
Also, I’d just give up on checking the audience chat entirely. They’re an infamously fickle bunch at best and a band of trolls at worst. All that matters is that they continue to watch, and remember – someone that’s hatewatching is still watching.
Wishing you and your season all the best!
~ Ava – Host of Harem Hotel: Hollywood Edition

“Well… she seems nice,” she admitted after a moment. “For the most part… Her advice wasn’t too condescending, at least.”

She twirled the pen between her fingers, eyes drifting toward the growing stack of replies she’d already written.

Then she sighed, leaned forward, and pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward her.

“Alright… one last letter.”

Dear Ava,
I hope this letter finds you well. I thank you for the kind words. I am glad there is a fellow lady in the business who understands showmanship. Your advice has been noted, and I will certainly think on it going forward.
You seem like a lovely gal, maybe we could meet up for a drink sometime?
Regards.
-Jocelyn.

Jocelyn dropped the pen onto the desk with a soft clatter and folded the letter closed.

“Sheesh… who knew writing letters could take so much out of you.”

She leaned back in her chair and stretched, a long yawn escaping her as her shoulders loosened for the first time all evening.

“About time I had a rest… Oh — hey, Lyn?”

Lyn immediately stood to attention, or whatever the ghostly equivalent of ‘standing’ was.

“Make sure all these letters end up in the right place, and grab that one I wrote for Ora earlier, can't forget about my sister host!”

“Roger.”

Lyn saluted crisply, gathering the letters and postcard carefully into her arms before drifting out of the room.

Jocelyn watched her go for a moment before slumping deeper into her seat.

“Now… time to get ready for tomorrow,” she muttered flatly. “Yippee.”

Just as she began to rise from her chair, a single black note drifted silently down through the air and landed on her desk.

Jocelyn paused.

Slowly, she reached out with a shaking hand and picked it up, turning it over between her fingers.

Written across the back in elegant, glimmering gold cursive were only two words:

Do Better