The Sweeps

Arabella’s eyes scanned the faces before her with a gentleness that made the breeze catch, as if the wind itself wanted to pause and listen. She stepped to the table at Andy’s right, set the stack of cards beside the throne with ceremonial care, and rested her fingertips atop them, making a tent of her hands. The gesture was simple, but it drew every eye to her, the air thick with the anticipation of grade schoolers before an award ceremony.

“We’ll begin with the Best Girl poll,” Arabella said, voice smooth as buttercream. “And before you say anything, I know what you’re all thinking: it is, in fact, a popularity contest, and yes, the Audience takes it very, very seriously.” She gave a sidelong glance to Claire, whose cat ears quivered with interest, then to Chloe, who blushed as if she’d been singled out for a spelling bee.

“This round, we nearly had a five-way tie for first place.” She paused, letting it hang. “But in the end, late voting settled matters—barely. With 9.60 percent of the vote, Best Girl once again goes to… Claire.”

Claire’s reaction was a study in disbelief. She blinked twice, ears going flat, then looked down at her lap as if Arabella had announced the results in error. On the second body, Laura reached over to pat her arm in silent congrats, and Claire hunched her shoulders, embarrassed but glowing.

Andy grinned, unable to help himself. He watched as Claire covered her mouth with her hand, then flipped open her notebook and scribbled a baffled note, which she held up for the group to see: Are you sure?

The harem dissolved into laughter.

Erin was the first to clap, the sound echoing across the rail. “You go, Catgirl,” she said, her smile so genuine it caught Andy by surprise. “You can’t keep dominating the polls unless you’re doing something right.”

Chloe nodded, careful not to jostle the dress that clung, loosely, to her immense curves. “Claire, you’re everyone’s favorite, even the times you try to sabotage yourself.” She said it with the warm, quiet authority of someone who’d spent a lifetime patching up the holes left by other people’s doubt.

Norah scoffed, but it was only for show. “She should be disqualified next round,” she said. “I mean, she’s won every single time. It’s not even a contest. At least let the rest of us have a turn at the tiara.”

Emily chimed in, her voice light and teasing. “I think you’d look cute in a tiara, Norah. Maybe even with a little cat tail to match?”

Norah gave her a withering look, but then broke into a lopsided smile. “You’re all monsters, but I love you anyway,” she said, and the tension in her body dissolved.

Arabella let them savor the moment, then grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “But Claire is not alone on the podium. Tied for first place, with 9.60 percent of the vote as well—Dawn.” She beamed at Dawn, who gasped, then immediately started tearing up.

Dawn’s hands flew to her face, and she let out a little squeak. “I’ve never even come close before,” she said, voice muffled by her palms. “I’m not even the prettiest, or the smartest, or—” She choked off, overwhelmed.

Emi, who sat next to her, wrapped all six arms around Dawn in a hug so sudden that the entire platform wobbled. “You are the prettiest, and the best,” Emi said, “and you always take care of everyone.”

Andy watched as Dawn’s ears wilted, then sprang up again, pride and shyness fighting it out in real time. He caught her eye, offered a wink, and she beamed back, cheeks glowing.

Arabella was already on to the next. “This one is unprecedented,” she said, clearly relishing the moment. “For the first time ever, we have a three-way tie for second place: Erin, Emi, and—” here she paused, “Laura. All with 9.27 percent of the vote.”

Erin laughed, a deep belly laugh that shook her whole upper body. “I’ll take it. Tied with the resurrected girl and the one that descends from a goddess? Not bad.”

Emi clapped her hands, every pair of them, then looked at her own card in shock. “I—I thought for sure I’d be lower,” she stammered. “This is… I don’t even know what to say.”

Laura, never shy, grinned and high-fived both of her own hands. “I’m happy for you, Emi,” she said, and Andy could hear the truth in it. “And for Erin. I’m in good company.”

Riley, who’d been slouched in her seat, looked up and raised an eyebrow. “That’s a good showing for your first round, L.” She grinned, and both of Laura’s faces lit up. “But don’t get too cocky. I’m still gunning for top slot.” Her hair writhed, the black-red lengths wrapping around her chest and arms as if for emphasis.

Arabella smiled, then moved on. “Next is Sam, with 7.37 percent of the vote. A solid showing.” She nodded to Sam, who grinned and flexed one arm.

“Guess the Audience likes strong, silent types,” Sam said, then nudged Liesa with her elbow. “Or maybe it’s my dramatic flair.”

Liesa, cheeks red, gave a demure smile. “You’re always Best Girl to me,” she said, her accent soft as cream.

Arabella gave them a second, then continued. “After Sam comes another tie: Marissa, Chloe, and Emily, each with 7.04 percent.” She gave each of them a nod.

Marissa straightened, the effect of being recognized apparent even behind her calm facade. “Thank you,” she said, the words barely above a whisper. The sound, as always, made everyone in the group go a little aroused, including Andy. Chloe clapped for Marissa, then for Emily, who looked stunned at the news.

Emily grinned, cheeks burning pink, then shrugged. “I guess the Audience does like a nudist,” she said, and there was a warm round of laughter. Andy glanced to the side, catching Katherine’s reaction: she gave an exaggerated bow, then mimed clapping, her painted eyes alive with pride.

Arabella smiled fondly. “After that, Myra, with 6.97 percent. Congratulations.”

Myra’s fox ears perked up, and her tail did a full half-moon behind her. “Wow,” she said. “Thanks.” She looked to Marissa, as if for validation, and Marissa offered a warm, gentle smile.

“You’re doing great,” Marissa whispered, and Myra’s whole posture softened, as if she’d been waiting years to hear that exact phrase.

“Next,” said Arabella, “is Riley. 6.85 percent. The number of votes hasn’t changed significantly, since the last round.”

Riley made a face, but there was real pleasure there. “I’ll take it. Top ten, baby.” She grinned, flashing teeth at the group.

Chloe clapped for her, and Andy said, “You’re everyone’s favorite troublemaker, Riley. I don’t think the Audience could do without you.”

Laura, too, offered a smile. “We’d be bored without you, Rye.”

Riley grumbled, but there was a lightness to it. “You’re not wrong. I’d start a riot, just to keep myself entertained.”

The laughter lingered as Arabella read the next name. “Norah. 5.66 percent. Good to see you back in form, Norah.”

Norah gave a sarcastic little bow, then sat back, arms folded. “Right where I belong: the bottom of the pile.” There was no malice, only the resigned humor of someone who’d made peace with her fate.

Sam snorted. “It’s not the bottom unless you enjoy it, Norah.”

Norah shot her a look, then grinned. “I mean, if you’re offering…”

The group exploded into giggles again, the camaraderie palpable. Finally, Arabella turned to Liesa. “And last, but never least—Liesa. 5.07 percent. The Audience may not have put you on the pedestal, but I know Andy and Sam certainly do.” She smiled at Liesa, who blushed, then gave a tiny, graceful bow from her stool.

Andy caught Liesa’s eye and said, “For what it’s worth, you’re always amazing in my book.”

Sam agreed, reaching over to squeeze Liesa’s hand. “You’re the best,” she said. Liesa’s face went pink, and she looked down, smiling.

Arabella cleared her throat, the sound slicing through the hush like a tuning fork. The Gazebo seemed to draw itself tighter in anticipation: every back straightened, every breath caught in the throat. Even the gulls on the railing seemed to sense something was about to be decided, pausing mid-squawk.

“Next,” she intoned, “the Most Beautiful Sanctuary.” The words hung there, heavy as gold.

Andy watched as every woman leaned in a fraction, each body telegraphing the same, ancient, limbic posture: choose me, choose me, choose me. Arabella flicked her gaze over the crowd with the cool expertise of someone who’d once overseen a selection of future queens. “The audience had a clear favorite, at first,” she said, “but after some late voting, we have ended with—” and here she drew out the pause, letting it sizzle “—a dead heat for first place.”

Everyone was practically vibrating. Arabella smiled, pleased at the suspense. “With 11.54% of the vote each, the winners of Most Beautiful Sanctuary are… Claire’s Sky Archive, and Erin’s Verdant Arches.” She let the words fall, then stood back to watch the dominoes fall.

Andy saw Claire’s ears go flat, then up, then flat again. To her left, Erin sat statue-still, arms crossed over the shelf of her breasts, expression almost bored except for the impossible flush along her collarbones. For a second there was no sound. Then Sam, bless her, barked a delighted, “Catgirl for the sweep!” and the group lost it.

Erin grinned, wide and teethy, then flicked her eyes to Andy, who found himself holding her gaze. The effect was instantaneous—her cheeks went from mint-green to nearly chartreuse, her legs crossing tightly, nipples visibly hardening. Andy looked away, but the afterglow of the glance lingered in the air between them.

Claire’s reaction, by contrast, was total disbelief. She froze, then snatched her notebook and scribbled something so fast the paper almost tore. She held it up, arms shaking: I’M SORRY, THIS MUST BE AN ERROR?

The group roared. Even Riley, who’d been lounging with her feet up, clapped. “Accept your destiny, nerd,” she said. “World domination one library at a time.”

Norah piped up, “Don’t let it go to your head, Claire. If you win all the contests, Arabella will probably make you wear a tiara.” Her tone was mocking but not unkind.

Claire just gawked, blinking as if expecting someone to explain the joke.

Arabella raised a calming hand. “I can assure you, Claire, the Audience is never wrong.” She looked at Erin. “Erin, your sanctuary was described as ‘a great picnic spot.’”

Erin gave a lazy wave, as if she’d been expecting the result all along, but then shifted in her seat and shot Andy another look. The warmth pooled at her chest and belly, as if the win itself was a secret she’d have to confess later. “Thanks,” she said. “I made it myself. I owe it to the old genes.” She flexed one arm, the hint of a bicep making her point, and winked at Andy.

Andy nearly choked, then coughed to cover the laugh. “You’ll have to take me on another tour,” he said. Erin’s smile grew, the arousal now plain as day, but she just shrugged, as if to say: Your move.

Arabella pressed on. “Second place, with 11.00% of the vote, goes to Myra’s House of Quiet Waters.” She pronounced it as if it were a sacred text.

The group went silent. Myra, not expecting to rank high at all, twitched in surprise, fox ears flicking. “I thought it was weird?” she said, voice tiny. “I mean, it’s just a bathhouse?”

Chloe, who had been hugging her knees and hiding behind her hair, leaned forward. “It’s beautiful, Myra. Everyone said so.”

Erin nodded in agreement. “If you put me in a room with nothing but silence and a hot tub, I’d never leave.”

Myra blushed, her tail curling around the stool. “I’m glad. Thank you.” She didn’t look up, but Andy saw the way her whole body eased with the affirmation.

Arabella let the moment linger, then continued. “Third place, with 10.47%, is—” she paused, and the whole harem seemed to hold its collective breath “—Dawn’s Chapel of Small Kindnesses.”

For a split second, Dawn didn’t register the words. Then her eyes went wide, and her bunny ears snapped to full alert. “No way,” she squeaked, hands flying to her mouth. “I thought for sure I’d be last!”

Andy grinned. “Dawn, you’re in the top three in both polls. That’s called a hot streak.”

Laura nodded, both faces lighting up. “You deserve it, Dawnie,” she said. “You put your whole heart into that place.”

Liesa, seated next to Dawn, beamed and squeezed Dawn’s arm. “I would have voted for yours,” she said, accent sweetening the words.

Dawn’s eyes filled with tears, and she let out a nervous giggle. “Thank you, everyone. I—I just wanted to make something where no one would be overlooked.”

Sam ruffled Dawn’s hair, ears and all. “You nailed it.”

Andy saw Arabella’s face soften, just for a second—a glint of genuine pride, quickly masked. The Host checked her notes. “Fourth, at 9.62%, is Emi’s Forest of Beginnings.”

Emi blinked, then covered her face with all six hands. “Oh my gosh,” she said, voice muffled. “I didn’t even finish it! There were supposed to be more glass foxes—”

Dawn wiped her eyes and reached over, catching one of Emi’s hands. “It’s perfect. I want to get married there,” she said, and Emi just squeaked and blushed even harder.

Andy added, “It was otherworldly, Emi. I think a lot of people loved that about it.”

Arabella nodded. “It was a near tie with the Chapel,” she said. “Very strong showing.”

Andy saw Emi beam through her hands, fingers trembling with pride. Arabella’s tone sharpened, as if she was enjoying the increasingly chaotic leaderboard. “Fifth place was another tie, 7.80% each: Norah’s Hearth of Gathering, and Sam’s Pavilion of Bonds.”

Norah made a show of pumping her fists, then immediately tripped over her own crossed ankles, sending her heel through the hem of her skirt. “I’ll take it,” she said, grinning. “Next time, I want a recount.”

Sam saluted. “Teamwork pays off,” she said, glancing at Norah. “I’d eat my weight in baklava at your hearth, any day.”

Riley piped up: “If you ever want to cater an afterparty, Norah, I’ll bring the whiskey.”

Norah, clearly pleased, tried to look bored but failed. “It’s a deal,” she said.

Arabella was on a roll now. “In sixth place, Emily’s Tavern of Second Chances, with 6.94% of the vote.”

Emily, who had been lounging on her stool with legs tucked up, actually sat up at the mention. “Wait. I beat Chloe?” She glanced at Chloe, horrified, then covered her face in mortification. “Oh, that’s horrible—sorry, Chloe.”

Emi gave a gentle nudge. “You made a bar that feels like home, Emily. That’s amazing.”

Dawn clapped. “I want to hang out there all the time.”

Arabella smiled at Emily, who shrank behind her hair but wore a very pleased grin. “Seventh, at 6.30%, is Chloe’s Home of Held Tomorrows.”

Chloe looked up, startled. “That’s me?”

Riley slung an arm around her. “Yes, and it’s adorable. Just like you.”

Chloe blushed hard, but managed, “Thank you. I just… wanted something for everybody. Like, if anyone needs a place to hide, or… I don’t know. It’s not as pretty as the others.”

Riley squeezed her tighter. “It’s better. Because it’s you.”

Arabella nodded, as if confirming the judgment. “Many voters commented on the warmth and light. You made something that endures.”

Andy caught Chloe’s eyes, and she ducked her head, pleased.

“In eighth place, Marissa’s The 88 Club, with 5.98% of the votes.”

Marissa arched a brow, more surprised than anything. “That’s higher than I thought,” she said, glancing at Andy.

Laura said, “It’s because you made a place that’s safe for everyone. Even the people who can’t handle noise and chaos.”

Marissa’s cheeks tinted pink, and she looked down at her lap. “Thank you,” she said, voice so low it made everyone present feel it in their teeth.

Arabella added, “There was significant support for a live music venue.” Marissa smiled, quietly, but Andy saw the pride in her eyes. “In ninth place: Liesa’s Atelier of Palimpsests ended ninth, with 5.77% of the votes.”

Liesa smiled sheepishly. “It was not even finished,” she said, “but I had so much fun building it. Maybe next time I make a bigger one.” Sam leaned in, whispering something to Liesa, who covered her mouth and stifled a giggle.

Arabella, always one for a flourish, finished: “And tenth, Riley’s Walk of Remembrance, with 5.24% of the votes.”

For a moment, Riley looked genuinely stunned, then gave a mirthless grin. “Last,” she said. “That’s what I expected.”

Andy said, “It’s not last, and it’s gorgeous. The best views of the island.”

Chloe added, “I think a lot of people cried when they saw it.”

Myra nodded, her voice a hush: “It’s the most meaningful place. It’s where I found forgiveness.”

Laura, both bodies together, added, “It was perfect, Riley.”

Riley brushed her hair back and shrugged. “Guess I’ll take it. Thanks, guys.” She was, Andy noted, more moved than she’d admit.

Arabella’s smile was dazzling. “The top three winners will receive a Victory Point award: seven for first place, five for second, three for third. The next three will each receive a Bonus Point award: 1500, 1000, and 500 respectively. Congratulations.”

Andy could feel the mood surge, every woman either basking in victory or vowing to do better next time. Even the ones who hadn’t ranked high seemed content, as if the recognition was enough. Erin rolled her shoulders, pleased. “I’m glad I get to share first place,” she said. “I’d rather tie with Claire than beat her.”

Sam grinned at that. “She’s sweeping the season, isn’t she?”

Claire, baffled, just scribbled: DO I HAVE FANS? HOW MANY FANS? and held it up for the group.

Norah snorted. “Millions, apparently.”

Chloe gave Claire a gentle pat. “You’ve always been popular, Claire. You just never believed it.”

Dawn was hugging herself, still overwhelmed. “I can’t believe I was third,” she said. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Emily, next to her, leaned in and whispered, “It’s not a dream. You’re just that nice.”

Liesa giggled. “It was always obvious to me.”

Marissa cleared her throat, then said, “It’s good to see us recognized for what we’re best at.” She looked at Myra, then back at Arabella. “Thank you.”

Myra, her tail fanning out behind her, said, “I never thought I’d matter this much to anyone.” She said it to no one in particular, but the whole group nodded.

Katherine’s painting, leaning against the rail, mimed applause, her smile radiant. Arabella waited for the noise to die down, then fixed Andy with a look. “Shall I announce the next category, or do you wish to say something, Andy?”

Andy felt every eye on him. He smiled, shook his head. “Go ahead,” he said. “You’re on a roll.” Arabella nodded, let the hum of excitement sustain only as long as needed. She glanced at the horizon, then tapped her cards once against the rail, drawing every eye.

“And finally,” she said, her voice crystalline, “the Most Personal Sanctuary.” She smiled, and for a moment, Andy felt the sunlight bend to her command. The air snapped taut as a violin string. Arabella let the silence build, her gaze sweeping the group. “The Audience was… passionate about this vote. There were more comments for this question than any other in the season.” She savored that, then continued. “With 11.67% of the votes, first place goes to Claire’s Sky Archive. Again.”

This time the reaction was a full five seconds of dead silence, as if no one quite believed the rules allowed for repeat champions. Then Norah blurted, “No way. It’s rigged.” The line was so perfectly timed that a wave of giggles rolled around the circle, even from Claire herself.

Claire blinked, flummoxed, then fished out her notebook and scribbled so vigorously it looked like she might stab through the page. She held the note up, face hot: HOW?

Arabella beamed at her. “Apparently, the Audience admires your authenticity, Claire.” She looked pointedly at the catgirl. “You’ve struck a chord.”

Andy grinned at Claire. “The people have spoken. They love a good library.”

Erin, who was currently preoccupied with not looking at Andy, managed to say, “Better this than a cat café. Be glad you dodged the cosplay bullet.”

Marissa, who had been quietly following the rankings, offered Claire a sincere, warm smile. “You inspire people, Claire. You always have.”

For once, Claire had no rebuttal. She sat, blinking and processing, like someone who’d just heard their name called in a lottery they didn’t enter. Arabella, relishing the drama, moved on. “Second place, with 11.15%, goes to Chloe and the Home of Held Tomorrows.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide, her hands flying to her mouth. “I—I don’t even—” She trailed off, overwhelmed.

Riley, who had spent the last ten minutes covertly making faces at the seagulls, snapped back to attention. She slung an arm around Chloe and squeezed her tight. “Told you, babe. People love you. Not a single child in history would ever dislike your home.”

Dawn, who was still glowing from her own podium finish, clapped her hands together and bounced in place. “Chloe, you’re amazing! You always make everyone feel safe.”

Emily chimed in, “It’s the first place I wanted to visit when I got here. You just… make everything better.”

Emi nodded, beaming. “You made it look like magic, Chloe.” Chloe ducked her head, blushing furiously, but the pride was unmistakable.

Arabella didn’t let the momentum lag. “Third place, with 10.26%, is Riley’s Walk of Remembrance.”

Riley froze for a heartbeat, like she’d just heard her own obituary read aloud, then barked out a single, delighted laugh. “Holy shit. That’s—wow.”

Chloe squeezed her tighter. “You deserve it, Riley. It’s beautiful. I cried the first time I walked it.”

Norah, who’d only ever seen Riley as the resident agent of chaos, gave her a slow, impressed nod. “Respect, Bennett. You went for subtle and it worked.”

Laura, never one to let a friend flounder, said, “We all wanted to see it. Every time someone walked it, we found something new.”

Riley looked at the group, stunned, then shrugged. “Guess the trick is putting enough sadness in a place that it feels real.” Her eyes shimmered, but she kept her face neutral.

Arabella kept the contest rolling, her tone both brisk and kind. “Fourth place is a tie: Emi’s Forest of Beginnings and Dawn’s Chapel of Small Kindnesses, each with 9.23%.”

Emi’s six hands fluttered in surprise, then covered her face. “I didn’t think anyone would understand it,” she said, peeking through her fingers.

Dawn, whose smile had become semi-permanent, said, “I would have voted for yours, Emi. It’s like a fairytale.”

Liesa gave Emi a quick hug, then said, “It’s the most magical thing I’ve seen here. You deserve it.”

Myra agreed, her fox tail flicking with pleasure. “I never thought I’d like being in a glass forest, but yours is perfect.”

Emily, ever the empath, said, “You made me feel like I was dreaming.”

Dawn, for her part, bounced. “I can’t believe I’m fourth!” She beamed, then looked at Emi. “It’s even better because I’m with you.”

Arabella smiled, then continued: “Fifth place, Marissa’s The 88 Club. 7.69%.”

Marissa pursed her lips, then allowed herself a small, pleased smile. “I guess all the late nights paid off.”

Andy, who had spent more time in the club than he cared to admit, said, “You made a place where everyone could be themselves, Marissa. That’s not easy.”

Marissa looked at him, surprised, and said, “Thank you, Andy.” Her voice was so soft that it sent a shiver down the row.

Arabella, unflappable, moved to the next position. “Sixth, with 7.18%: Emily’s Tavern of Second Chances.”

Emily blinked. “I’m not used to… being noticed.”

Sam, who’d been lounging back, winked. “You’re not easy to ignore, Em. And you’re always the first to pour a round for everyone else.”

Dawn agreed, “You always know just what someone needs. That’s a gift.”

Arabella gave Emily a kind look. “There’s power in offering second chances. The Audience appreciates it.” Emily nodded, a little misty. “Seventh,” Arabella announced, “is Myra’s House of Quiet Waters. 7.05%.”

Myra’s ears perked up, then dipped in confusion. “Lower than last time,” she said, then caught herself. “That’s fine, though. I’m happy.”

Andy, who’d visited every sanctuary, said, “You created a space that made everyone want to linger, Myra. That’s rare.”

Arabella continued. “In eighth place: Erin’s Verdant Arches. 6.79%.”

Erin, who’d been expecting a better showing, just laughed. “It’s cool. At least I still tied for first in beauty.” She smirked at Claire. “You can keep the bookworm crowd. I’ll take the botanists.”

Claire held up a new note: I like your Arches. Erin’s pride flared at the praise, even though she tried to keep it in check. She grinned at Claire. “Thanks, Catgirl.”

“Ninth,” Arabella went on, “is Liesa’s Atelier of Palimpsests, 6.67%.” Liesa accepted it with a small, graceful nod, but Sam reached over and whispered something, making Liesa laugh out loud.

Arabella gave a knowing smile, then finished, “Tenth place, with a tie: Norah’s Hearth of Gathering and Sam’s Pavilion of Bonds, both at 6.54%.”

Sam grinned, “I choose to see it as being in the top ten, twice in a row. I’m not even mad.”

Norah, who’d been bracing for last, let out a sigh. “At least it’s a tie. Next time, I’ll bring cake and drinks.”

Riley said, “Now that’s a campaign strategy. Bribe the voters with dessert.”

Liesa chimed in, “If you bake, you win.”

Andy said, “I’m pretty sure that’s how my mom won every bake sale in Warrenville.”

Laura smiled. “You’re all winners,” she said, both bodies in perfect stereo.

Arabella let the laughter die down, then said, “As before, seven, five, and three Victory Points for the top three. 1500, 1000, and 500 Bonus Points for the next three. Well done.”

The group let out a collective exhale, the tension replaced by a buoyant, competitive camaraderie. Arabella stacked her cards with ceremony, then smiled. “Is there any question before we move on?” She looked pointedly at Claire, who, after three wins, seemed unable to make eye contact with anyone.

Claire raised her hand, waited for Arabella’s nod, and then scribbled a question, holding it up for all to see: If I wanted to donate some VPs before the points are assigned, is that allowed?

Arabella hesitated, then shook her head gently. “Not for the poll awards. The assignment is automatic. You would have needed to do so before the results were revealed. Once a Contestant passes 100VP, they are locked in and can no longer donate points.”

Claire’s shoulders slumped, disappointed.

Arabella softened. “However, for future reference, Victory Points can be transferred at any time before a Challenge result is announced. For events with negative point risk, you may wish to coordinate with the group prior to the next round’s start.”

Andy watched as Claire processed the news, then saw the way her gaze darted toward the lower end of the scoreboard—toward Myra and Riley, who were furthest from the 100VP finish line.

Claire scribbled furiously, then held up a new page: If anyone is close to 100VP and can spare points, please donate to Riley and Myra before the next round. We need everyone to cross the finish line together. She added a diagram, mapping everyone’s score, with arrows indicating optimal transfers.

The group took a second to digest it. Then, Riley, ever the contrarian, said, “It’s not charity, is it? I’d rather earn my own way.”

Claire flipped her notebook to a fresh page and wrote, It’s hard to earn more than 30 VP in a round. You came in later, and had less opportunities. The next challenge could have negative points, and you might not get enough to survive. It’s better to play it safe. I’d have donated to you, if I could.

Riley considered that, then shrugged. “Okay, fine. But only if we call it a tactical alliance, not a pity party.”

Chloe said, “I think it’s a good idea. We cross the finish line together.”

Marissa agreed. “We can always adjust if the challenge changes the risk profile. But it’s best to go in as a team.”

Myra said nothing, but her fox tail thumped once against the platform—a silent thanks. Arabella looked at the group, eyes shining. “I’ll give you time to discuss, if you wish to coordinate before the Fifth Challenge begins.”

Andy was proud—genuinely proud—of how the harem handled themselves. He watched them debate, argue, then reach consensus, each woman doing the math and the emotional calculus needed to make sure nobody was left behind. Eventually, Claire held up a new note: We can finalize after the next challenge announcement. Just like last time.

Riley grinned. “See? Catgirl always has a plan.”

Sam clapped her hands. “This is the most functional group I’ve ever been in. Even my D&D group never got this far.”

Liesa snickered, “We have better snacks, though.”

Dawn beamed. “And no one gets eliminated. It’s perfect.”

Sam chuckled. “You're all still a disaster in Pathfinder, though.”

Arabella watched them, her smile a little wistful. “Shall we begin the Fifth Challenge, then?”