The Ethereal Error

“PAUSE!”

The word cracked through the studio like a gunshot.

In a heartbeat, everything stopped.

April’s body hung suspended in mid-air like a doll on invisible strings, her curls frozen mid-bounce, star clips caught in the spotlight like tiny trapped comets. Her mouth wide in a silent oval.

Jason was half-risen from his seat, one hand lifted as if he’d been about to reach for her, eyes wide, lips parted in confusion.

Only Jocelyn moved.

In a heartbeat, the studio stood still April’s spinning frozen in mid-air, Jason’s mouth stuck half-open in confusion, and the rest of the onlookers all frozen in place.

Jocelyn’s usually smug grin was gone, instead a look of frustrated confusion was plastered across her face

“What is this!?” Jocelyn pulled on her hat in frustration, contorting it in ways that would tear any normal hat in half. She reached inside and pulled out her small notepad, flicking through at lightning speed. Her eyes scanned over each page as they whizzed past her sightline.

Once. Twice.

Nothing.

“…No. No no no.”

Jocelyn flipped again, slower, like the words might magically appear if she were patient enough.

Still nothing.

She lowered her booklet and stared at the brightly clothed girl.

“Then who the hell is this!?” she said through gritted teeth.

Jocelyn clenched her fist, squeezing the notepad like it owed her money.

“They said this would cover everything, well, clearly not!”

Jocelyn pondered, and her eyes widened in realisation. “Ah, wait, I can just…” she grabs her cane and taps the girl on the forehead.

“Who are you?”

The girl straightened up and replied robotically.

“My name is April Duval.”

“Right, that actually doesn’t help much, does it? Uhhh… how did you get here?”

“I do not know.”

“Ah… well, that was fruitful,” Jocelyn said,” was there another way to…?” she pulled out her notebook and flipped through it once more, until she paused on a page, eyes widening with delight, “oh that will do nicely.”

She gave a quick double tap with her cane, the lights in the studio dimmed until it was almost pitch black, the theatre screen lit up once more with a brilliant static lighting up the room, and a large plush red sofa-chair materialised itself behind Jocelyn.

“Okay, so it says here I just connect this.” Jocelyn leans forward and presses her cane against April's forehead, all while continuing to read from her notepad, “to this.” She points her cane at the screen, and suddenly it goes black.

“Alright, let's see what got you here then eh?” the blue host tapped her cane and a large bucket of popcorn materialised itself on her lap, she took a few delighted bites before grabbing her cane once more and pointing it back at the screen, then throws another popcorn in her mouth and taps the handle of the cane, then leans back, adjusting to get comfy.

The screen is totally black; the only indication that anything was playing at all was the muffled voices that could be heard in another room. Pained screams and muffled shouting could just about be made out.

Suddenly, the darkness was broken, a crack of brilliant white light burst into frame, growing brighter and larger by the second.

The screams only grew louder, and a mess of voices could be heard accompanying them,

Eventually, the light encompasses the whole screen, and for a few beats, that’s all that could be observed. Until it began to dim slightly, and the features of the surrounding area began to take shape.

The first shape to come into view was a large shadowed figure. As the blur continued to recede, it could be made out as a large dark skinned man with blue scrubs and a face mask, his eyes wide behind his large square glasses.

“It’s a girl!” he yells out.

The POV pans around to—

“No no, no thats far too early.” Jocelyn huffed, placing her popcorn down on the ground. She reached down to her side and rummaged through the creases of the cushion, her brow furrowed, “Where on earth did I put it?”

She floated up and off the opulent red chair, analysing it before tearing off the large red cushion, gleaming under the screen was her cane. She grabs it and slams the cushion back down before getting comfortable once more.

“Right now, where do we want to be?” She asked while pointing the cane at the screen, tapping the head repeatedly.

“First day of school? Nope. first lost tooth? Nope. second, third, fourth, fifth, wait, exactly how many teeth did she lose that day? Whatever… puberty… high school… college… first apartment, ah, now that’s familiar, so a neighbour, eh? Just a little more…” Jocelyn keeps tapping rapidly, until the screen is overcome with darkness once more.

“Oops, a little far, let's see a highlight reel of her last… day or so.” Jocelyn waves her cane at the screen and sinks back into her seat.

Sigh.

April stared at herself in the mirror dejectedly. Well, what was left of it. Chunks were missing from the edges, and the remaining glass was split by a spiderweb of cracks that fractured her reflection into too many versions of herself.

None of them looked particularly impressed.

Her monthly grocery order had arrived earlier that afternoon. Everything she’d planned for. Everything she’d budgeted for. Except pads.

She’d stared at the receipt for a long time before accepting it. She was completely out, and she couldn’t afford another order until she got paid again.

…In three weeks.

She pressed her lips together and looked away from the mirror.

“C’mon,” she muttered to herself. “It’s just a five-minute walk.”

April picked up her comb and ran it through her hair again, even though it didn’t need it. She’d already done this at least a dozen times. The curls fell back into place exactly as they had every other time.

She sighed and checked the time on her phone. 6:30pm, she’d been sitting here staring at this mirror for 2 hours.

Fine.

She pulled on her hoodie, tugging the sleeves down over her hands out of habit, then hesitated. She adjusted it again, as if that would somehow make the decision easier.

She grabbed her purse, shoved it into her pocket, and headed for the door.

She checked her shoes were tied before leaving, yep, just as tight as the last 3 times.

The lock stuck for a second when she turned it. It always did. She jiggled the key until it finally clicked open with a dull metallic snap.

The hallway outside smelled faintly of old carpet and someone else’s cooking. April stepped out, pulled the door shut behind her, and locked it.

She paused there for a moment.

Then, before she could overthink it again, she started toward the stairs.

She hesitated once again once she reached the top of the stairwell.

The steps looked steeper than she remembered. They always did.

April placed one foot down carefully. Then another. Then another. Each step felt tentative, like she believed the stairs might decide to betray her if she moved too fast.

Yet, after a few steps, she relaxed a little.

“See? Fine. Totally fine.”

She picked up the pace.

…Her foot slipped.

“—shit!”

Her balance vanished instantly. She pitched forward, failed to catch herself, and dropped hard onto her backside. The impact knocked the breath out of her as she bounced down the stairs one step at a time, landing with a dull, painful thump on each one.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

She came to a stop in a crumpled heap halfway down, legs tangled awkwardly beneath her.

April just sat there for a second, stunned.

Then she groaned and pushed herself upright, rubbing at her lower back.

“…Owwww.”

She shifted her weight experimentally. Everything worked. Nothing felt broken. Just a sharp, lingering soreness radiating through her ass and hips.

“Great.”

She glanced around the stairwell, half-expecting someone to be staring.

No one was there.

April sighed, stood the rest of the way up properly, and brushed off her hoodie.

She started down the stairs again. More carefully this time.

Once outside, the air was cooler than she’d expected.

April pulled her hoodie a little tighter around herself and started down the sidewalk. The street was quiet in that late-afternoon way, not busy, but not empty either. A few cars passed, some with radios that thumped faintly from the open windows.

She kept her head down and walked.

Halfway down the block, she heard a car approaching faster than the rest. She glanced up just in time to see it hit a wide puddle that lined the curb.

“Oh—”

Water exploded outward in a dirty gray sheet. Soaking her legs, the water splashed up the front of her hoodie and spattered across her shoes before she could react. The car didn’t slow down. For even a second, it just carried on its merry way.

April stood there, dripping.

She looked down at herself. Cold water ran from the hem of her hoodie and down her calves.

She wiped her hands uselessly against the already-wet fabric and kept walking. There wasn’t much point in stopping now. She was already damp, uncomfortable, and annoyed.

Plus, the store was only a few blocks away.

She cut through a quieter side street, one lined with older trees and uneven sidewalks. As she passed beneath one of them, there was a sudden rustling overhead.

Before she could look up—

Something dropped.

A black blur hit her shoulder and slid down her arm, claws digging in reflexively as it scrambled.

“Ah—!”

The cat landed awkwardly on the sidewalk, hissed once, then bolted away between two parked cars.

April staggered back a step, heart racing. A sharp sting burned along her lower leg.

She looked down.

Thin red lines were already forming just above her ankle, blood beading where the claws had raked her.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She leaned against a nearby fence and carefully set her purse on the ground. After a moment of fumbling, she dug inside and pulled out a small bandage packet. She stared at it for a second before grabbing a disinfectant wipe and treating her leg, applying a bandage to the wound.

By the time she reached the store, April already felt miserable.

One shoe squelched faintly when she walked. Her leg stung where the bandage tugged against her skin, and her lower back still ached dully from the stairs.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The floor just past the entrance was glossy.

Unfortunately, she registered that a fraction of a second too late.

Her foot slid forward, traction vanishing, and she went down hard with a sharp yelp, her knee slamming directly into the tile.

“—ah, crap!”

She caught herself with her hands, palms stinging as she scrambled upright, heart racing. A couple of people glanced over, but no one said anything.

April sucked in a breath through her teeth and tested her weight. Yes, her knee hurt… a lot. But it held.

She looked back over the scene, no wet floor sign. Of course.

She made it to the toiletries aisle, limping just slightly now, and stopped in front of the shelves. Pads. Finally.

She reached out and grabbed two packs without thinking much of it.

The shelf groaned.

She froze.

Then the entire thing tipped forward.

“Wait—!”

Too late.

The metal frame buckled with a loud clatter and came down on top of her, boxes and plastic packs raining down as she stumbled backward and fell onto her ass again, buried under an avalanche of hygiene products.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then—

“Oh my god are you okay?!”

Hands grabbed at the shelf, lifting it just enough for April to crawl free, heart pounding, face burning hot with embarrassment.

“I–I think so,” she said, breathlessly.

The employee crouched down beside her, wide-eyed. “I’m so sorry—are you hurt?”

April glanced down. Her arm stung where the metal edge had scraped her. Blood had already started to seep through the fabric of her sleeve.

“It’s just a scrape,” she said quickly. “I’m fine.”

“We’re first-aid trained,” the employee said, already gesturing toward the counter. “We can patch you up—”

“It’s okay,” April interrupted, shaking her head. “Really. I’ve got it.”

She reached into her purse and, almost bitterly, pulled out another bandage.

The employee blinked. “…Oh.”

A few minutes later, the manager appeared, apologetic to the point of discomfort. She insisted, like really insisted, on covering her shopping due to the accident.

April hesitated, then sighed.

“…Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

She left the store sore with a few extra freebies than she intended to purchase, but it was covered by the store so why not?

She was, scraped, damp, and carrying a bag that felt heavier than it should have for how little was inside.

At least she’d gotten the pads.

She stepped back out into the evening air and started the walk home.

Unfortunately, on the walk home, her bag snagged on a low-hanging bush.

“Oh, come on.”

She tugged it free, just a little too roughly, and the bottom split.

Her shopping spilled out onto the sidewalk, pads sliding and tumbling, one rolling straight into the gutter.

“…Great.”

April crouched down quickly, sighing at her misfortune, and started gathering what she could. She stuffed as much as possible into the pocket of her hoodie, shoving it in awkwardly until it bulged.

She was still one short, where was it? Scanning the ground meticulously, she eventually spotted a blue shine within the very bush that caused this mess.

She sighed and reached in after it, pushing aside the branches, but she flinched as something growled at her, followed by a high-pitched hiss.

A black shape exploded out of the bush, fur bristling as a cat bolted straight past her legs and into the street.

“Oh—!”

April barely had time to turn before tires screeched.

A car swerved violently to avoid the cat, jumped the curb, and lurched up onto the sidewalk.

Straight toward the bush. Straight toward her.

There was no time to move. No time to think.

Just the sound of impact—

Then black.

For a second…

April had squeezed her eyes shut, and for a heartbeat, she waited for the impact.

But it didn’t come.

She opened her eyes slowly, and a car window filled her vision.

It was close. Way too close. The glass was smeared with dirt and leaves, the hood pressed deep into the bush she’d been reaching into moments ago. Twigs creaked and snapped under the vehicle's weight.

Her breath came out shaky.

“Oh my god—oh my god, are you okay?!”

The driver was already out of the car, scrambling around the front, hands hovering uselessly in the air like he didn’t know where to put them.

“I didn’t see you, I swear, the cat just– I tried to– are you hurt?”

April blinked a few times, then slowly pushed herself upright. Her legs felt wobbly, but they held.

“I’m… I think I’m okay,” she said, surprised to hear her own voice steady.

The man exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been going slower. Are you sure? Do you want me to call someone? An ambulance?”

She glanced down at herself. Dirty. Wet. Sore. But still standing.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, it’s fine. Really. I’m okay.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. “I— I can give you my number. Or—”

“It’s alright,” April insisted, already backing away a step. “You didn’t hit me. Just… be careful.”

He nodded, still apologizing as she turned away.

April retrieved the last of her shopping from the ground, crammed it against her chest, and started walking again. Her hands were shaking now, but she pushed ahead.

She was passing a row of apartments when a loud metallic creak made her glance up.

Across the road, a truck was parked with a crane extended high above it. A piano hung suspended in the air, strapped tight, being hoisted toward an open balcony several floors up while someone was shouting directions from below.

April slowed instinctively, watching it sway slightly.

The crane groaned again.

Then—

BANG.

The sound cracked through the street like a gunshot.

Metal screamed.

The crane arm lurched sideways, jerking hard as the cables whipped loose. The piano swung violently, smashing into the side of the building with a dull, awful thud.

Someone screamed, the restraints snapped, and the piano tore free.

For half a second, to April it seemed to float there—weightless.

Then it flew, straight toward her.

April didn’t have time to run or scream, this was it.

There was just a massive, overwhelming impact…

…from behind.

Something slammed into her hard enough to knock her feet out from under her.

She hit the ground with a sharp crash, palms scraping as she skidded forward. Her purse went flying. Pain flared through her knee as it smacked the pavement.

“What—?” April twisted around, heart hammering.

Behind her, debris was scattered across the sidewalk. Twisted metal. Splintered wood, Broken plastic. One ruined wheel still spinning slowly.

A stroller, well what remained of one, was flattened under the piano’s wreckage.

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh god—” she breathed, scrambling to sit up. “Oh no, no—”

Heeled footsteps thundered downhill, and a woman came sprinting toward them, her hair was a curled blonde, her face was red, and her arms were flailing wildly.

April’s chest tightened. She couldn’t see past the wreckage. Couldn’t see—

“MY GROCERIES!!” The woman had reached them and screamed.

April froze. “…What?”

The woman dropped to her knees, yanking a crushed paper bag out from under the mangled stroller frame. Cans rolled across the sidewalk. Something glass shattered.

“Do you have any idea how much this costs?” the woman shrieked, already on her feet again, spinning toward the crane truck across the road. “I’m calling your employer! This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!”

She hadn’t even noticed April, thought to ask if she was ok, or even look in her general direction.

April sat there for a moment, blinking, the adrenaline draining out of her all at once.

“…Right,” she muttered.

She pushed herself up slowly. Her knee stung sharply; the skin was already bleeding. Nothing serious. Just another scrape.

She sighed, crouched down, and pulled a small bandage from her purse. Cleaned it. Covered it. Pressed it down, her efficiency would be hard-pressed to be matched by a trained doctor.

She glanced once more at the shouting woman and the crane operator flailing in apology, sighed, and continued her journey home.

April finally made it back to her building. The familiar front door loomed ahead like a finish line. She fished her keys out with stiff fingers, already half-exhausted just thinking about being inside.

As she slid the key into the lock, something caught her eye. The garage light was on.

She glanced down the short ramp that led to the underground space beneath the apartments. A single fluorescent tube hummed softly, casting harsh white light over the concrete. Her downstairs neighbour’s garage door was open.

As usual.

She headed inside and ascended the stairs much more successfully than she had descended them earlier, clinging onto the handrail like a lifeline.

Once face to face with her apartment door her mind drifted back to her neighbour in the garage.

He was always coming and going at strange hours. Driving off late at night. Coming back just before dawn. She figured he probably worked night shifts somewhere. Security probably, though he was a bit scrawny.

She’d only really seen him once or twice. Enough to register that he was… kind of cute, she guessed. In a scruffy way. He always looked a little dirty, like he’d just come home from work, though she’d never spoken to him.

April shook the thought away and focused on the lock. It resisted, like always. She jiggled the key until it finally turned, the mechanism clicking open with familiar ****.

Once inside, she shut the door behind her and leaned her forehead against it for a moment.

“Home,” she murmured.

She nudged the door shut with her foot.

The edge of her shoe caught the loose corner of the rug, causing it to slide a few inches and bunch up at the other side, she hadn’t noticed.

She kicked off her shoes, dropped her purse on the table, and carried her shopping into the kitchen. Well, what little shopping there was anyway. She set the bags down, moving stiffly, and took a second to breathe.

She was safe.

She unpacked slowly, setting the pads into the cupboard like they were something precious, then washed her scraped-up hands at the sink, watching pinkish-brownish water swirl down the drain.

Once she was done, April peeled off her hoodie and winced faintly as the fabric tugged at her bandages. She tossed it over the back of a chair and rubbed at her sore knee.

She realised she was thirsty after the day she had had, time to rehydrate.

She reached up and opened the cupboard above the sink, pulling out a glass. As she did, the cupboard door swung wider, its corner nudging a tall bottle of cooking oil she’d left up there after reorganising.

The bottle tipped and rolled, teetering on the edge of the counter. The impact burst the bottle open with a wet crack, and oil spread across the surface in a glistening sheet. It ran along the counter edge, dripped down the cabinet, and spilled onto the floor.

“—ugh,” April muttered, already grabbing a cloth.

She stepped back without looking, causing her heel to slide on the oil.

Her foot shot out from under her, and she windmilled, arms flailing, barely managing to catch herself on the counter, The glass slipped from her hand, bounced once, twice—

And shattered across the floor, shards skittering dangerously close to her bare feet.

Her heart hammered, and she froze, breathing hard, then let out a shaky laugh.

She grabbed paper towels, knelt carefully, and started wiping up the mess of glass and oil, pushing the shards into a small pile.

She gathered the last of the glass into the paper towels and folded them together, being careful not to nick herself.

“—ow.”

She hissed quietly and pulled her hand back. A thin red line had opened across her finger, blood already welling up. She stared at it for a second, more tired than alarmed.

“Seriously?”

April folded the paper towels tighter, carried them to the trash, and shook her hand a few times like that might help. She needed a bandage. Of course she did.

She turned toward the coat hanger by the door, where she’d tossed her purse earlier.

As she stepped back into the hallway, her heel caught the edge of the bunched up rug.

Her balance went with it.

She lurched forward with a startled noise and slammed straight into the standing lamp beside the couch. The pole rattled violently, the shade tilting sideways as she stumbled past it. The lamp didn’t fall, but the cord snapped tight, yanking hard.

The sudden tug knocked the small side table beside it just enough to cause the mug she’d left there to tip.

Tea spilled out in a warm rush, sloshing over the table towards the edge, threatening to pour onto the floor below, and all over her extension cord. She yelped and leaped forward to grab it and move it out of the way.

Too late, the tea reached the edge and poured onto the sockets right as she reached to grab it.

There was a sharp crackle, a burst of white-blue sparks, and then—

Everything went dark.

“Ugh, come oooon…”

April’s power had tripped.

Again…

She stood very still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust. The faint glow from the streetlight outside filtered in through the window, just enough to make out shapes.

She felt her way along the wall, crouched carefully, and unplugged the extension cord first.

She straightened, rubbed her temples, and padded toward the fuse box near the entryway. She flipped it open, squinting, and reset the breaker.

The lights snapped back on, and April sagged slightly in relief.

She closed the fuse box, retrieved a bandage from her purse, wrapped her finger, and cleaned up the rest of the mess without incident this time. When she finally turned the lights off and crawled into bed, she was asleep within minutes.

The footage stayed black.

“Wait, so after all of that, there’s still nothing?” Jocelyn snapped, throwing her arms wide at the frozen image of April on the screen. “How on earth did she even get here?!”

She floated closer, squinting at April like the answer might be written on her forehead. Her cane tapped once, twice, and a faint shimmer rippled over April’s frozen form as Jocelyn scanned her form more thoroughly.

“…Huh.”

Jocelyn blinked.

She tapped again, harder.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

She pulled the cane back and stared at it, then at April, then back at the cane. “An aneurysm?” Jocelyn said flatly. “Really? That’s what did it?”

She dragged a hand down her face. “After all that slapstick nonsense, she just… ugh. Why am I even wasting my time on this?”

Jocelyn groaned and flopped back into the plush red chair, her hat slipping down over her eyes.

“Unbelievable.”

She shoved the hat back up and glared at the shattered suitcase wreckage on the stage.

“And you...” she muttered. “You somehow end up stuffed into that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course you did.”

Slowly, she turned, her gaze drifting across the frozen studio.

Jason. The girls. The cameras.

“…Everyone saw her,” Jocelyn mumbled.

She snapped her fingers.

The screen flared to life—live chat feeds scrolling at breakneck speed, clipped reuploads already circulating, thumbnails popping up with bold, excited text.

'Who is she?'

'New contestant??'

'Was she planned??'

'Top 10 ‘Star girl’ Fan theories!'

“Crap,” Jocelyn hissed.

“Crap crap crap.”

She began pacing mid-air, tugging nervously at the brim of her hat, stretching it into long, unhappy shapes.

“What to do, what to do… think, Jocelyn, think,” she muttered. “She’s already been seen on camera. I can’t just delete the footage—it’s already out there.” She groaned. “Crap crap crap.”

She stopped short.

“…Alright,” she sighed. “Fine. Roll with the punches.”

Her eyes flicked back to April. “I’ll just get her a new body,” Jocelyn said. Then paused. “Crap. What was the number they gave me…?”

She plunged her hand into her hat and began rummaging. After some amount of struggle, finally she found what she was looking for, a small crumpled note with a long string of numbers on the front.

“Ah.”

She snapped her fingers and held the crumpled paper to her ear.

“Hi,” Jocelyn said briskly. “Yes, I’d like to place an order for a humanoid soul-reactive vessel.”

There was a long pause.

unintelligible

“…Mm-hm.”

unintelligible

“…No, not pre-production anymore.”

unintelligible

She winced. “Yeah. I thought so.”

The call ended.

About ten seconds later, a tiny pink-haired girl in a green suit stepped out onto the stage. She had large pink ears that resembled those of a cat, and a long feline-esque tail of the same colour. She was carrying a large, mannequin-sized box (that dwarfed her completely in size) held in her arms firmly, set it down with a soft thud, and looked up expectantly.

“Here you go, a brand new SRV, fresh from the Harem Hotel store!”

“Wonderful! Really, thank you for being here on such short notice, uh, Little Miss was it?”

The woman gave a feline-esque smirk and saluted. “At your service, and speaking of service, I believe the boss requested physical payment for any purchases made by this season's host, so I’ll be taking that before I leave.”

Jocelyn blinked. “But I didn’t have to pay for the other six.”

“They were agreed upon during pre-production,” Little Miss replied. “This order is not covered by your contract.”

Jocelyn spread her hands. “I’ve got nout on me, love.”

Little Miss smiled apologetically. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to escalate this to a higher authority.”

“Oh for—”

The stage lights flickered. And a shadow fell over the set. The stage entrance boomed.

Once
Twice…

The large double doors swung open, and something enormous squeezed its way through the entrance.

It was a shipping container.

Correction—a walking shipping container.

Double correction, it wasn’t walking at all. It was being carried.

By another pink-haired girl, this one in a maid uniform.

She staggered under the weight, shoes scraping against the floor as she dragged the massive container fully onto the stage. The thing barely fit through the doorway, so no wonder she was struggling, and when she finally dropped it—

THUD.

The entire stage shook.

“Haaaah…!” The girl bent over, hands on her knees, panting heavily. After a moment, she straightened up, reached into her apron, and produced a crumpled letter, handing it to the ghostly host.

“Here.”

Jocelyn unfolded it and read the note.

Greetings and salutations, Dame Jocelyn!
Your fellow host bids you a fine and successful start to your season.
As a small token of my appreciation, please allow me to award you the following gift.
I am most certain that a host of your… ghoulish calibre will find great use for these magnificent creatures.
With most heartfelt wishes,
—Ora
P.S. The mailwoman is not part of the gift. Please return her in mostly non-dead condition.

There was no clear indication of what was inside the container, but whatever it was sounded… plentiful. And very, very, very hungry. Wet scratching echoed from within, followed by a chorus of muffled, distorted noises that pressed insistently against the metal walls.

Unfortunately, it was also very much sealed.

The only visible way in was a massive hatch on the front, the kind clearly designed to be opened once and then never closed again. Whatever was inside would absolutely spill out the moment it was released.

“Whelp,” the pink-haired maid said cheerfully, already turning away. “That’s that. Enjoy.”

With those as her only parting words, she wandered offstage, humming softly to herself.

Don’t worry. She’d find the exit on her own.

Eventually.

Jocelyn stared after her.

“…What?”

She floated closer to the container, eyeing the hatch suspiciously. After a brief hesitation, she sighed, rolled her shoulders, and phased straight through the metal wall.

Inside—

Penguins. Dozens of them. Undead penguins.

Their feathers were patchy and matted, eyes glowing faintly, beaks snapping lazily as they shuffled toward her in an uncoordinated mass. Some dragged flippers that were very clearly no longer attached properly. One was even missing its entire head, yet still ‘pecked’ angrily at the floor.

They hissed.

Penguinly.

Jocelyn blinked.

“…What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with this?!”

She stared at them for a moment longer, watching one trip over another and fall sideways with a wet thud.

Then her eyes lit up.

“Oh, that could work…”

She turned slowly toward Little Miss.

“Don’t suppose you accept,” Jocelyn said, gesturing vaguely back toward the container, “uh… zombified penguins as payment, do ya?”

Little Miss’s eyes sparkled and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Ah,” Jocelyn said, visibly relieved. “Well that solves that then.” She tapped onto the container, gesturing to Little Miss, and waved a hand. “Here you go.”

Little Miss appraised the container briefly, smiled, then lifted it with ease.

And put it in her pocket.

somehow…

She turned and walked off without another word.

“…Right,” Jocelyn muttered.

“Two problems solved…” Jocelyn muttered, clapping her hands together. “That’s the body sorted. What else? Ah—transformations!”

She grimaced.

“…Problem is, the others just finished their votes.”

She hovered in place, brow furrowed, hat twisting slowly between her fingers as she thought.

“Right,” she snapped suddenly. “I’ll just run another vote. No big deal. I’m sure the audience will be perfectly fine with a second vote right after the first one.” She nodded to herself. “Right? Surely more engagement is a good thing!”

With renewed confidence, Jocelyn poofed the chair out of existence, floated center stage, struck a pose—and slammed her cane down.

Everything unfroze.

“What’s going onnnn?!” April screamed, still rotating slowly in the air, arms flailing uselessly. “Where am I?!”

“Well—Harem Hotel, my dear! Welcome, welcome!” Jocelyn clapped enthusiastically.

April rotated away from her.

“What?”

“You are in Harem Hotel!”

“Hare—what?!”

Jocelyn sighed, visibly losing patience. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she straightened April upright and yanked her closer.

“You. Are. On. Harem. Hotel!” Jocelyn barked, enunciating each word.

“Uh– what’s that?” April asked, wide-eyed and very intimidated by the floating blue specter inches from her face.

“Oh right, there’s like… that whole explanation I just did,” Jocelyn groaned. “Ugh. Here.”

She tapped April’s forehead with the cane.

April stiffened instantly, eyes snapping wide as information flooded her head all at once. Her back arched slightly as she stared up at the ceiling.

“Oh…” she breathed.

“Right, all caught up?” Jocelyn said briskly. “Great! This is unscheduled, so I’ll skip the pleasantries. Jason over there is your new Master–oh! Jason!”

She gestured grandly.

“Please welcome our surprise seventh contestant! This is April Duval. She’s twenty-one, she used to be your upstairs neighbour, she’s a virgin, and she died of a surprise aneurysm a few hours ago! Great! Everyone’s up to speed!”

Jason stared.

“…My upstairs neighbour?” he croaked.

April stared back at him.

“Right! Transformations!” Jocelyn continued, barrelling on. “We’ve got loads of ’em! Like uhhhh, this one!”

She zapped the screen.

Impact Absorbers: April is prone to taking falls. This transformation gives her a larger ass to help cushion them. [Clutz]

“That’s sexy, right?” Jocelyn added cheerfully. “Plus, it shuts up the ass fans.”

Jason choked slightly at that comment.

“Oh! Up next…” Jocelyn tapped her chin. “You weren’t supposed to be here, and– oh. Oh… that’s good.”

She grinned rather maniacally and zapped the screen again.

Third Wheel: April dropped in uninvited, much like a third wheel. With this transformation, April does not get her own date night and is instead randomly paired with another contestant. [Interloper]

“And finally…” Jocelyn hummed. “You’re basically the luckiest unlucky person to ever live, so something along those lines maybe…”

She paused.

“Oh.”

A slow smile spread across her face.

“Yeah. I guess they really are inevitable.”

Another zap.

9 Lives: Black cats are unlucky, right? This transformation gives April a set of black cat ears and a tail. [Luck]

Jocelyn turned back to April. “Right! Thoughts?”

“Uh—I’m not sure—”

“Oh? Indecisive? Unfortunate.” Jocelyn pivoted instantly. “And Master Jay? Any favourites?”

Jason swallowed. “Uh… the third wheel one seems the leas—”

“Ah, lovely!” Jocelyn cut in, clapping. “You heard it here first, folks! That’s the one he likes! Make sure to vote now!”

She threw her arms wide.

“Transformations coming up next time! Byyyyyyeee!”

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