Day 6 part 2/3

The stars remained above them after Celia finished speaking.

The crown-shaped projector closed, reversing its bloom, but the dome still held a hundred unfamiliar worlds. Their light followed the women down the aisle in slow bands of blue, violet, and gold. Claire was looking up as she walked. Twice she nearly caught her hips on the reclining seats.

Celia waited near the exit with her travel mug tucked into the bend of her elbow. “You’ve got some free time before the evening meal. Feel free to explore a little before then.”

The doors opened onto the corridor. Ordinary afternoon light waited outside, bright enough to erase the reflected light of the stars from their clothes as each woman crossed the threshold.

Claire stopped just beyond the doorway. “The archive is organized by season,” she said. “Not by universe. This creates so many questions.”

Evelyn came out behind her. “It does if we take the lesson at face value.”

“I didn’t know how large the problem was.” Claire turned toward the others as she worked through it. Her red hair lifted from one shoulder and drifted behind her, several strands curving toward Evelyn before she pushed them down. “If two seasons came from worlds with different biology, different magic, different laws, or even different ideas of what a family is, then comparing the outcomes without that context is almost useless. We need to know where each record came from. We need to know whether the Host copied something from another season, and whether the copied result meant the same thing in both places.”

Mara glanced back toward the planetarium. “It’s almost too many categories of information for each season. Maybe we should focus on how the system interacts with the contestants. Look for constants?”

“That’s an interesting approach. You may be right.” Claire looked down the corridor. “Assuming it wants us to find it.”

“An assumption worth testing,” Evelyn said. “After Nixie.”

Claire nodded. “Yes. We said we would look at the transformation shop together.”

Naomi had remained near Mara, dressed in a dark blouse buttoned at the wrists and throat despite the warmth of the hallway. She ran her thumb along one cuff, then released it. “I need to go back to Lyra.”

Mara turned to her. “For new clothes?”

Naomi nodded. “I want to make the practice as easy on myself as possible.” Her fingers returned to the cuff. “Most of my own wardrobe was chosen to keep as much skin covered as possible. That’s what normal was for me before. If I am going to learn this properly, I have to practice a new normal.”

“It’s a good plan. Make do with the hand you are dealt,” Katherine said.

Mara smiled at Naomi. “I’ll come with you. Clothes shopping alone is a cardinal sin.”

Naomi’s answer came after a small pause. “I’d like that.”

Lizzy had not joined any of the plans.

She stood near the planetarium door while the others divided themselves, hands linked in front of her issued gray shirt. Her gaze kept returning to Celia. The instructor had remained inside the doorway, closing the planetarium controls one by one.

Katherine’s attention moved from Lizzy to Celia and back again. Then she stepped between Lizzy and the doorway without blocking it completely.

“Walk with me,” she said.

Lizzy blinked. “Where?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Celia looked over. “Did you need something, Lizzy?”

Lizzy’s mouth opened.

Katherine turned enough to include Celia in the conversation. “My apologies, I need to speak to her first.”

Celia’s eyes moved from Katherine to Lizzy. Whatever she understood, she did not insist. “All right. My office is always open if you need anything, Lizzy.”

“Thank you,” Katherine said, and she started down the hall at a pace Lizzy could follow without hurrying. Lizzy glanced once over her shoulder, then went with her.

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Mirel Dane drew the second vial of blood while Van sat on the examination bench and tried not to flex his hands.

His palms still carried the textured pattern of the deadlift grips. A broad ache covered his back, with sharper complaints along his shoulders and thighs whenever he straightened.

Dane labeled the vial and placed it into a chilled rack. “No more exercise today, Van. Light effort only, water, food, and rest. If you experience dizziness, severe muscle pain, weakness in one limb, or dark urine, report to the medical ward.”

Dane closed the sample case. “The assessment is finished.”

Cassie stood quickly, hissing under her breath at the doctor. “Oh no you don't, Dr. Deadlift!” She moved to stand between her and the exit. “We're not jumping over that score. You need to explain.”

Fiona and Van were too distracted by their own conflict to realize that Cassie was cornering Dane for an answer.

Fiona had not moved from the deadlift station. She stood with her towel looped behind her neck, hands gripping both ends. Sweat had dried in irregular shadows across the gray training shirt. Her breathing had recovered. The fixed attention in her eyes had not.

Van stepped off the bench. His knees objected, but they held as he attempted to retreat to the changing booths.

Fiona spoke before he could reach them. “You didn’t answer.”

He stopped. “I thought it was a bad joke or something.”

“It isn't.” She faced him directly. “I won something and made you do the strength test. You won, and I'm not a coward, so pick something.”

Cassie lowered the water bottle from her mouth. “Don't leave yet, I want to see how this works out.”

Dane looked between them, then began transferring her equipment to a cabinet without leaving the room.

Van rubbed one sore palm with his thumb. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Fiona walked closer. “You’re not being noble. You're either afraid or you think you're saving me from something.”

Dane placed the scanner in its cradle, turning to Cassie. “For accuracy, while his score is rather high, it is not strictly impossible. His native athleticism is remarkable, but it is not determinative.”

Fiona did not look away from Van. “That isn’t the point.”

Van stopped rubbing his palm. Fiona lifted her chin.

“Nothing weird,” she said. “If you ask for something disgusting, I break your nose and accept whatever Verena does afterward.”

Cassie set her bottle down on Dane's cart. “So, I’m supposed to ignore the fact that he is some naturally gifted Olympic-level athlete.”

Dane gave her a steady look until she retrieved the offending bottle. “Of course not, Ms. Lin. That is the purpose of my tests.”

Fiona kept her attention on Van, waiting for an answer.

Irritation cut through his exhaustion. Van looked toward the treadmills. He faced her again. “Fine. Teach me to run better.”

Van continued before he could change his mind. “I have endurance because I spent years running badly and refusing to stop. My stride falls apart when I get tired. I waste energy. You don’t. I want you to teach me how to do it properly.”

Fiona searched his face for a second test. “That’s what you want?”

“Yeah, I figure I'm going to be running a lot if I have to go into the field with you.”

“When?” Fiona asked.

Van’s legs gave a dull ache at the question. “Tomorrow. I’m finished training today.”

Fiona considered pushing. Instead she nodded once. “After breakfast. Riverstone Trail.”

Van accepted that. “All right.”

Fiona threw her towel in the direction of the basket and headed for the changing booths. She had crossed half the room before stopping.

Cassie watched Dane push her little cart away with infuriating calm. She wasn't getting answers from her, so she veered over to where Van was still recovering. “You asked Fiona to train you for endurance.”

Van started toward his own booth. “Ugh, Cassie. Don’t.”

“Tomorrow morning, you and Fiona are going somewhere private so she can teach you how to last longer.”

“She is coaching me in running.”

“It’s cardio you asked for, right?” Her teasing had become childish and sing-song. “Proper breathing. Steady rhythm. Completely innocent.”

Van opened the booth door. “You know exactly what you are doing.”

Cassie followed him across the room, still tugging at the hem where Cover Girl had reduced her clothes to the edge of indecency. “I know exactly what I’m doing. That’s what makes it fun.”

He ignored her accusations and reached for the door again, then stopped when Cassie went silent.

She stood uneasily, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t know it was that bad for you,” she said.

Van let the booth door close without entering. “It was my problem.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Maybe it isn't. Maybe it never was. I'm still confused.”

Cassie stared at the floor. “I knew your childhood was bad. Everybody knew some version of that after the intake. Dead parents, foster system, memory gaps. I filed it under tragic backstory and moved on because everybody in here knows how bad it was for some people after the Alter attacks.” She pushed a bottle across the bench toward him. “I didn’t know you were going out before dawn because you thought a monster might come back if you slept.”

Van took the bottle. It was cold and heavy. The weight of it steadied his hands.

“I didn’t know that either,” he said. “Not clearly.”

Cassie pulled at the hem of her altered top, gained less than an inch, and gave up. “I liked it better when I thought you were just antisocial.”

“I’m also antisocial, if that helps any.”

“Stop helping.”

He drank to that. The cold water hurt his teeth.

Cassie leaned against the bench. “I’ve been treating you like some sheltered idiot who got dropped in a show with eight women because they thought watching you scramble would be funny. You are an idiot about women. I stand by that. But I was wrong about the rest.”

Van lowered the bottle. “You didn’t have enough information, but I still think your correction wasn't strictly necessary.” His wry grin softened his complaint.

“I am trying to get better,” he said.

Cassie nodded toward the changing booth. “Apparently through endurance training with an angry redhead.”

“She’s a good runner.” He drank again. “I could learn a lot from her if she can stand teaching me.”

“She is.” Cassie’s mouth bent. “I hate giving her things she can be smug about.”

Van opened the booth door again.

Cassie pushed away from the bench. “Hey.”

He turned.

“Don’t tell her I said this, but asking her to teach you was a good answer.”

“Why?”

“Because now she has to spend time learning what you're actually like instead of just making up reasons to be mad all the time.” Cassie walked toward her own booth. “Also, the first time she tells you to ‘Give me all you got!’, I’m going to die laughing.”

Van went inside and shut the door before she could see him smile.

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Light moved beneath the corridor panels in narrow streams, converging on a silver archway set with small pieces of colored crystal. The sign above it had changed since her last visit.

NIXIE’S TRANSFORMATION ATELIER

IMPROVEMENT IS AN INVESTMENT IN YOURSELF

Claire read the second line twice. “That sounds like something printed on a self-help pamphlet.”

Evelyn opened the door. “The salesmanship is heavy-handed. I'll give you that.”

Claire followed her inside.

The atelier had rearranged its inventory. Crystal shelves rose from the floor in staggered rows, each holding a small object suspended in colored light. The miniature figures were made of glass with detail so fine they looked almost real. Prices glowed beneath each stand.

Nixie emerged from behind a curtain carrying three crystal cards between her fingers. Her pale hair was pinned high, leaving her pointed ears bare. A dress in layered green and silver shifted around her ankles as she crossed the floor.

“Claire. Evelyn.” She set the cards into an empty display and smiled at them with immediate delight. “How are you enjoying your upgrades?”

Claire’s hair rose behind her as if in response to the question.

Nixie’s eyes brightened. “Crowning Glory is settling in beautifully, I see.”

“It’s very effective, but now my hair acts like it has opinions,” Claire said.

“We’ll file that under ‘Four Stars’ then, shall we?”

Evelyn moved toward a display labeled STRUCTURAL REINFORCEMENT. “We came to inspect the available inventory.” She examined the row of statues carefully.

“And to report, I hope.” Nixie circled Evelyn without touching her. “Ice Queen was an ambitious piece of work. Reinforcing the body is easy if one is willing to make it less responsive. Preserving ordinary sensory feedback while improving resistance required a great deal of calibration.”

Claire watched Evelyn’s face. “I hadn't thought of that. Did they make you numb?”

“No.” Evelyn flexed one hand, examining the motion rather than Nixie. “My sensitivity remains intact. I had expected to lose temperature at least, but my skin feels perfectly normal.”

Nixie clasped her hands. “I’m so glad to hear it.”

“The benefit is considerable,” Evelyn continued. “I can maintain concentration through impacts that would previously have disrupted my telepathy. I will be less vulnerable while shielding civilians or coordinating a team. It may also reduce the physical cost of large-scale psychic exertion.”

Nixie’s smile widened.

Claire folded her arms. “You are enjoying this too much.”

“I spent more effort preserving ordinary sensation than increasing resistance,” Nixie said. “A lesser designer could have made her durable by making her numb. I refused.”

Evelyn flexed her fingers again. “What else did you calibrate?”

“Everything I was permitted to.”

Claire glanced at Evelyn. “That answer is not reassuring.”

“It is complete,” Nixie said. “Now tell me what Crowning Glory is doing that you dislike.”

Claire’s hair slipped over her shoulder and coiled around her wrist. She pulled it loose absentmindedly. “Mine maps rooms, tracks movement, and catches things before I consciously see them. That’s useful, but my hair also keeps reaching for people.”

Nixie tilted her head. “Does it?”

“You are looking at it right now. You should have seen it on my date night.”

Several strands had stretched toward Evelyn again. Claire gathered them behind her back. The hair slid through her fingers, then lifted along her spine in a slow red arc. The constant handling of her errant hair was causing a low heat to build up in her core. She ignored it out of habit, but it was very distracting.

“What makes it do that?” Claire asked. “It's something of a constant problem.”

“Crowning Glory responds to more than direct command.” Nixie moved to a nearby crystal and adjusted the card by half an inch. “It is designed to work like a new sensory receiver. You will become familiar with the finer responses in time.”

Claire’s hair snapped toward Evelyn’s shoulder as the older woman came forward. Evelyn stepped aside before it reached her.

Nixie laughed softly and led them deeper into the shop.

Several transformations Claire had heard about were on display. Clean Bill turned slowly inside a clear cylinder, represented by a tiny figure in a nurse’s uniform. Chipset sat beside it, a black crystal woman hunched over a laptop. Page Turner occupied the next stand. Its display held a small-shouldered girl holding a book whose pages flipped too quickly to read, stopped, then repeated.

The next section of the row explained why Cassie had been so angry after her own visit.

SWEET SPOT — 2,500 BP

Physical sensitivity increased. Pleasure response broadened.

DADDY DEAREST — 2,000 BP

Speech and address protocols adjusted toward a selected authority figure.

READY WHEN YOU ARE — 2,250 BP

Arousal response gains conscious regulation. Unwanted physiological distraction is reduced; desired responsiveness becomes easier to invite.

MUTUAL SATISFACTION — 3,000 BP

During consensual intimacy, gain intuitive awareness of a partner’s pleasure, discomfort, hesitation, and approaching climax. Physical technique adapts more quickly to feedback.

Claire stopped at Daddy Dearest. The crystal figure inside its cylinder stood with its hands folded behind its back, posture neat and expectant. Nothing about the display suggested that the product belonged in a locked cabinet rather than between reading comprehension and disease resistance.

“Cassie was not exaggerating,” Claire said.

Nixie followed her attention. “About the variety?”

“About how casually you sell what amounts to smut upgrades. Smut-grades? No, that's worse.” Claire read Sweet Spot again despite wishing she had not.

Evelyn read all four cards without hurrying. “Ready When You Are and Mutual Satisfaction increase control and communication. Sweet Spot is direct bodily alteration, but at least the card says so plainly.” Her attention settled on Daddy Dearest. “That one changes behavior around authority.”

“It helps someone overcome a hurdle to a chosen relational role,” Nixie said.

Claire pointed to the card. “Is that really necessary?” Claire looked at the price again. “And it costs less than reading comprehension.”

“Demand affects pricing.”

Evelyn tapped the edge of Mutual Satisfaction’s display. “This could reduce accidental harm between partners. Conscious regulation of arousal could also help people whose powers, medication, injuries, or trauma interfere with ordinary intimacy.”

Nixie inclined her head. “Pleasure, intimacy, and sexual confidence are parts of health. I see no reason to hide responsible designs behind a curtain.”

“Ready When You Are and Mutual Satisfaction are responsible designs,” Evelyn said. “Daddy Dearest is not in the same category.”

“Some customers would disagree.” Nixie’s tone remained professional. “We try to stock for all tastes.”

Claire lowered her hand. Daddy Dearest remained bright, polished, and off-putting.

Beyond the intimate stock, other inventory filled the row.

POLYGLOT — 3,000 BP

Acquire fluent understanding and expression in three spoken and written languages selected at purchase.

NIGHT SHIFT — 1,750 BP

Reduce the sleep required for healthy physical and mental function.

STEADY HAND — 1,500 BP

Improve fine motor precision during delicate or repetitive work.

WAYFINDER — 2,250 BP

Retain an intuitive sense of direction and traveled routes.

Claire stopped between Polyglot and Page Turner.

Nixie joined her beside the display. “A very sensible pair.”

Evelyn examined the Polyglot card. “Which languages are available?”

“Honestly? More than you can name.” Her words were too even to take as offensive. “Anything you've ever heard or read about is covered, as long as you have the right anatomy for it.”

Claire glanced at Evelyn. “That could help.”

“It could.”

“Page Turner would help too.”

Nixie drew nearer. “Chipset would make the set complete. Speed, comprehension, retention, and language. You could process an extraordinary amount of material.”

Claire looked toward the black crystal wafer. “For seventy-five hundred BP.”

“Seven thousand with the full research package.”

“I only have fifty-two hundred.”

Nixie’s ears lowered a fraction. “Then perhaps begin with credit.”

“No,” she said, a bit too forcefully.

Nixie moved on. “Page Turner and Polyglot are within your budget.”

Claire read both cards again.

PAGE TURNER — 2,000 BP

Reading speed and comprehension improved.

The descriptions seemed harmless, but she was still uncertain. “What would you choose?” Claire asked Evelyn.

Nixie leaned forward, interested.

Evelyn didn’t look at the cards. “I won’t make the choice for you.”

“I asked what you would do,” Claire said. “I just want advice.”

“No. You asked because my answer would reduce the weight of yours.” Evelyn met her eyes. “If you purchase a permanent alteration because I approved it, the result will always include my judgment. If it proves beneficial, you may credit me. If it proves harmful, you may blame me. Neither response helps you determine whether you trust your own decision.”

Claire’s first answer rose quickly and died before she gave it voice. She turned back to Page Turner.

Evelyn continued. “You have identified a real need. You want to learn more about the system here so we can decide how to navigate this prison show. You also have a very real reason to distrust the vendor and the system that supplies her stock. No one can remove that conflict for you. Decide what risks you are willing to take.”

Claire walked once around the display. The small book continued flipping, stopping, and beginning again. Across the shop, a crystal figure lifted a miniature weight. Another display changed eye color every few seconds. Nixie moved behind the counter and let her think.

The archive remained ahead of them. Thousands of records. Unknown worlds. Curated summaries. Hidden context. She could buy language and read more sources, but she did not yet know whether the archive was translating for her already. She could buy memory, but memory without a method would only preserve the confusion.

Page Turner solved the problem she knew she had.

Claire placed one hand over the tiny figure.

“I’m buying this one,” she said.

Nixie’s smile returned in full. “A cautious beginning is still a beginning.”

A purchase window opened above the stand.

PURCHASE CONFIRMATION

ITEM: PAGE TURNER

PRICE: 2,000 BP

BUYER: CLAIRE MERCER

CURRENT BALANCE: 5,200 BP

BALANCE AFTER PURCHASE: 3,200 BP

CONFIRM?

Claire read every line. Her hair floated around her shoulders, no longer reaching toward Evelyn. She pressed confirm.

The book inside the cylinder stopped.

Its pages separated into hundreds of narrow strips of light. They passed through the crystal wall and circled Claire’s head in a widening spiral. Letters moved across them in languages she knew and symbols she did not. Some were handwritten. Some had been carved, stamped, projected, or arranged in patterns that might not have been writing at all.

Claire tried to follow one line.

The spiral collapsed into her eyes.

She jerked back. Evelyn caught her forearm before she struck the display behind her.

For two breaths after the light entered her, every label in the shop demanded attention at once. The words did not grow larger or brighter. The new speed arrived before she had learned where to aim it. Clean Bill. Chipset. Steady Hand. Warning labels in small print beneath a glass figure. A handwritten note behind Nixie’s counter reminding her to reorder crystal seals.

“Breathe,” Evelyn said.

Claire did. The first rush eased when she stopped trying to process the whole room.

When she opened her eyes again, Page Turner’s card took less than a second to read. She had read it rather than skimmed it, with title, price, and effect arriving in their proper relationship.

Nixie clapped once. “Excellent.”

Claire looked at the Polyglot card. The full description entered before she consciously moved to the second line. She turned away from it.

“That is strange.”

“Useful?” Evelyn asked.

Claire picked up a thin catalog from the counter. She opened to the middle and read the page. The sentences moved quickly, but not as a blur.

“Very useful,” she admitted.

Nixie beamed.

Claire closed the catalog. “Don’t look so pleased just yet.”

Evelyn released her arm.

Claire looked toward the door. “Now for the archive.”

Her hair swept toward Evelyn with enough confidence to catch briefly around the older woman’s wrist. Claire froze as the strands tightened around the older woman's arm. Evelyn untangled it one strand at a time.

Claire's stomach lurched with the contact from Evelyn's firm grip as the questing fingers deftly worked through the grasping hair. Claire kept the sudden rush of heat from turning her ears red. Barely. She knew she had to get to the bottom of these new sensations before she embarrassed herself.

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Lyra had changed the sign outside her shop again.

CLOTHING • PERSONAL ITEMS • COMFORT

Naomi stopped beneath the final line.

Mara stood beside her, glancing back and forth between the new sign and Naomi. “We can leave, you know.”

“No.” Naomi touched the collar of her blouse. “I came here because I am tired of arranging my entire life around what might go wrong. I need to get a handle on this.”

The shop held more color than Naomi remembered. Fabrics descended from the ceiling in long draped sections, separating dresses from shirts, sleepwear, uniforms, and personal accessories. Mannequins stood in conversational groups rather than rows. One wore a fitted blue dress with an open back. Another displayed a white racerback top beneath a light jacket. A third wore a long dark skirt split to the knee on both sides.

Lyra emerged from behind a curtain with a measuring ribbon around her neck. Her honey-colored hair was braided over one shoulder today, and her layered dress shifted from pale lavender to gray when she moved.

“Naomi.” Her greeting carried recognition without surprise. “Mara. What can I help you with today?”

Naomi felt heat rise in her face but spoke anyway. “I need new wardrobe options. I want to master my power and apparently, showing more skin will help.”

Lyra’s gaze moved over Naomi’s high collar and buttoned sleeves. “I can help with that. What sorts of cuts do you prefer?”

Naomi hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“I can help with that too.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Trying out new clothes is the best part of the job.”

Lyra led them first to a display of sleeveless tops. Some cut close around the neck while leaving the shoulders and arms bare. Others opened lower across the chest. A black racerback shirt exposed most of the shoulder blades and the center of the back while remaining high and fitted in front.

Lyra lifted it from the stand. “How often does your back touch another person by accident?”

Naomi considered crowded trains, narrow hallways, rescue sites, people brushing past her in stores. “Less often than my hands or arms.”

“A broad open back gives the transformation room to breathe,” Lyra said.

Naomi held it against herself in front of the mirror. The shape looked athletic rather than revealing from the front. When she turned, most of her back would appear between the straps.

She had spent years checking mirrors for gaps in coverage. A glove pulled too low. A sleeve riding up. A collar shifting away from the neck. The exposed skin in front of her did not resemble an accident waiting to happen.

“I like this,” she said.

Lyra’s smile remained gentle. “Good. That makes one.”

The next blouse was deep green, sleeveless, with a folded neckline that descended lower than Naomi usually wore but did not threaten to slip. The fabric crossed under the bust and left a narrow opening across the upper back.

Naomi put two fingers against the neckline. “This is a lot more cleavage than I am used to.”

Mara looked at her reflection rather than at the opening. “It looks beautiful on you.”

Naomi looked at Mara again. Mara had already returned her attention to the blouse.

Lyra adjusted the blouse on its hanger. “You are a beautiful young woman. You know that in the same way someone knows her height or hair color. You have not often allowed your beauty to become something you are comfortable with.”

Naomi’s hand lowered from the neckline. “Creating desire in someone felt cruel. I couldn’t touch anyone before.”

Lyra returned the blouse to Naomi. “Being desirable does not make you available.”

Naomi met her eyes in the mirror.

Lyra continued, “You learned to treat being seen as dangerous. That protected you. It also made you hide more of yourself than you wanted.”

Naomi swallowed.

Mara moved to a nearby rack and drew out a long blue dress. The back was open to the waist, but the front rose in a secure halter that fastened across the shoulders. Two narrow slits opened along the skirt, high enough to expose the outer thigh when walking and low enough to close when standing.

“This might be too far,” Mara said. “But the color would suit you.”

Naomi stared at it.

She had owned formal dresses before. They had included high collars, long sleeves, and gloves. They had made her elegant but separate from everyone else.

“Can I try it?”

Lyra directed her toward a fitting room.

The room contained a full-length mirror and a padded bench. Naomi closed the curtain and began changing.

The dress slid over her body without resistance. The halter fastened across the shoulders with a flat clasp. Nothing circled her throat. The bodice held her securely. When she turned, her back remained bare from her shoulder blades to her waist.

As she stepped out, Mara stopped sorting through skirts.

Naomi’s hand went immediately to the side slit. “Too much?”

“No.” Mara crossed the space slowly enough to let Naomi refuse her approach. “It’s different, but not too much.”

Lyra stood behind the counter and allowed Mara to speak first.

Naomi turned toward the mirror. The dress showed the curve of her waist, the shape of her chest, and the length of one leg when she stepped. She straightened her shoulders and let the reflection remain uncovered.

“I know I’m pretty,” Naomi said. “People always said so. Hero agencies certainly told me when they wanted photographs. But I never thought much about whether I was…” She searched for a word that did not sound vain. “Desirable.”

Mara came to stand beside the mirror, leaving a full arm’s length between them. “You are.”

Naomi’s hand loosened at the side slit while she studied the open back again. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Mara reached for her shoulder. Naomi saw her moving and tightened her control on her power. She struggled under the influence of so much coverage, but it was possible. More than when she was completely hidden.

Mara spoke as her hand settled on Naomi’s shoulder. “You don’t have to know today. Have patience with yourself.”

Lyra brought a second dress, shorter and less formal, with wide shoulder straps and open sides bridged by narrow panels of fabric. “For more ordinary days when you don’t need to make such a powerful statement.”

Naomi laughed before she could stop herself. “The blue one is a statement?”

“It is meant to be noticed.”

Eventually, Naomi chose the black racerback top, the green blouse, the blue dress, and the shorter side-open dress. She added two sleeveless shirts cut for training, a charcoal skirt with overlapping side slits, and a pale wrap-style top that secured at the waist instead of the neck.

Mara offered opinions only when Naomi asked. She preferred the deep green blouse, disliked a yellow dress that made Naomi look washed out, and quietly returned a red top after Naomi stared at its neckline without reaching for it.

At the counter, Lyra folded each piece into a box larger than the stack should have required. The clothing disappeared into layers of tissue paper without increasing the box’s weight.

A purchase window unfolded above it.

WARDROBE COLLECTION

PRICE: 1,800 BP

BUYER: NAOMI HALE

CURRENT BALANCE: 3,700 BP

BALANCE AFTER PURCHASE: 1,900 BP

CONFIRM?

Naomi read the balance twice. “That is a great deal of money.”

“It is a big change,” Lyra said.

Naomi looked down at the box holding the blue dress. Nothing bad had happened. No one had been hurt.

She pressed confirm and the screen dissolved.

Lyra closed the final box and placed both hands flat on its lid. “Your wardrobe will be updated with these pieces. I also threw in a few basics as a kind of ‘frequent-flyer’ bonus.”

Naomi accepted the box. “Thank you.”

Mara took the door rather than the box. “Ready?”

Naomi looked once more at her reflection. Her skin shone under the light. “Not entirely, but I’m getting there.”

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Katherine and Lizzy passed through corridors without real purpose until they found themselves outside near a large in-ground pool area.

A long pool stretched through a sunlit courtyard, blue tiles descending in pale steps along one side. Low fountains fed water into the far end without enough force to disturb the surface. Cushioned chairs stood in pairs beneath white canopies. No one occupied them. Beyond the courtyard walls, unfamiliar trees moved in a light breeze beneath clouds that might have looked real but probably weren’t.

Lizzy remained in the doorway. “Was this here before?”

“No.” Katherine’s voice was confident. “I would not have missed a pool this large.”

Katherine chose two chairs near the shallow end, far from the changing rooms and with a clear view of the building. She sat immediately. Lizzy stayed standing until Katherine pointed at the other chair.

“You were waiting to talk to Celia,” Katherine said.

Lizzy lowered herself onto the edge of the cushion. “Maybe? I wasn’t sure.”

“You were. She appears kind, she has a lot of experience with the system, and you believe she would answer without judging you.”

Lizzy’s fingers found the hem of her shirt. She stopped herself from twisting it and placed both hands on her knees.

“I don’t recommend it,” Katherine continued.

“Because you don’t like her?”

“I like her more than I expected. That is not the same as trusting her advice.” Katherine took a moment to decide how to proceed. “She believes genuine love can be built inside this system. She clearly loves her own harem, works as a relationship instructor, and thinks Van can become a good Master. None of that makes her dishonest. It makes her invested.”

Lizzy watched one fountain disturb the far end of the pool. “Aren’t you invested too?”

“Yes.”

Lizzy looked up.

Katherine crossed one leg over the other. “I am trapped in the same season as you. I have my own objectives, and I may be wrong. The difference is that I am telling you what direction my bias points.”

“Which direction is that?”

“Away from asking an employee of the system how to navigate its dangers.”

Lizzy’s face warmed, but Katherine did not rescue her from her anxiety. “You are anxious about Van.”

“I’m anxious about everything.” Lizzy tried to deflect.

Katherine ignored it. “Tonight is your biggest worry.”

The water moved between them and the fountains. Lizzy pressed her palms to her knees.

Katherine waited patiently.

“I like him,” Lizzy finally said. Her voice carried farther across the pool than she intended. She glanced toward the empty chairs, but no one appeared.

“I know,” Katherine said.

Lizzy’s embarrassment sharpened into annoyance. “Does everyone know?”

“Claire suspects. Mara almost certainly knows. Cassie has probably guessed something crude and inaccurate.”

“That made me feel better, thanks.”

“It was not intended to comfort you, Lizzy.” Katherine’s posture challenged her. “Don’t deflect. Keep going.”

Lizzy inhaled through her nose. “I like him, and I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

“According to whom?”

“The whole situation.” She lifted both hands, then dropped them. “He’s the Master. We were kidnapped to be his harem. The Hotel wants us to like him. The audience wants it. Every date and assignment and transformation keeps pushing us closer. If I start liking him now, how do I know it’s me and not the system?”

“You don’t.”

Lizzy stared at her helplessly.

Katherine rested one elbow on the chair arm. “You can’t prove a feeling. You can examine it, refuse to act on it, maybe see whether it survives being held at arm’s length. What you can’t do is remove the circumstances.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Yes.” Katherine’s tone remained even. “But ignoring the facts won’t make the situation better.”

Lizzy looked down at her hands. The right one had gone slightly translucent at the fingertips. She pressed it against her thigh until the color returned.

“He’s nice to me,” she said. “I know that’s not enough. He’s nice to everybody when he can be. But he doesn’t make me feel stupid when I get scared. He makes me feel brave when I think about him.”

Katherine listened without interruption.

“And then I see him with Mara.” Lizzy swallowed. “She’s beautiful and kind and actually knows how to take care of people. She can talk to him without babbling or forgetting words. Naomi is beautiful too. Evelyn is… Evelyn. Claire is brave and famous and practically glows when she gets excited. Even Cassie can make him laugh when she isn’t being awful. And you—”

“No.” Katherine’s refusal was concrete but not cruel.

Lizzy stopped.

“Don’t get me involved in your imagined scoreboard. You don’t even know how I feel.”

“But you’re gorgeous.” Lizzy stopped herself short.

“Both accurate and irrelevant.”

“You’re older. You know what you’re doing. You can become anything he might like.”

“I can look like anyone. That’s not the same as becoming someone he likes.”

Lizzy’s hands tightened again. “That’s what I mean. You have options. Mara and Evelyn are older and more experienced. They have actual lives. I feel like a kid next to them.”

Katherine shifted in her chair until they faced each other directly. “Van is only twenty-two. He’s only four years older than you.”

“I know. It sounds so small, but it can be a lot.”

“At your age, yes.” Katherine leaned back. “The man has no experience worth discussing. He has spent most of his adult life working, avoiding sleep, and attempting not to attract attention. You and he are more alike than you think. But more importantly, you haven’t tried to find out what he actually wants.”

Lizzy’s face was a mask of horror. “I can’t ask him which of us he likes.”

“No,” Katherine agreed. “That would be an appalling conversation before a first date.”

Despite herself, Lizzy laughed.

Katherine continued, “You have also decided every woman you consider more desirable is competing with you.”

“They’re contestants.”

“That is how the system frames us. It does not describe our individual interest.”

Lizzy looked at her.

Katherine held the look. “I consider Van too young for me. He is sincere and handsome, yes, but foolish in several ways I find exhausting. I am far too experienced to want a romance with him.”

Lizzy’s eyes widened. “You really don’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t want him as a romantic partner. In time, I think he will be a remarkable man. In one way or another.”

“So I’m not competing with you.”

“No, Eliza,” Katherine said with a rare smile. “I rather think not.”

Lizzy traced one seam in the chair cushion. Light moved across the water as clouds crossed overhead.

“What about Mara?”

“Ask Mara.”

Horror hid from shame as her face contorted. “I can’t do that.”

“Then stop answering for her.” Katherine leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees. “You are trying to protect yourself from rejection by completing the rejection in advance. Tonight will likely be awkward. You may discover that you like the idea of him more than the reality.”

Lizzy covered her face. “Please don’t say that. You make me sound foolish.” Lizzy lowered her hands. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

“Go on the date.”

“That’s all?”

“Pay attention. Decide what you enjoy. Be honest with him about what you like. Don’t treat every kindness as some secret declaration.”

Lizzy looked toward the water again. “And the Master part?”

Katherine followed her gaze. “People have found each other across enemy lines, feuding families, faiths, laws, and causes they considered righteous. The romance did not make the war noble or the feud sensible. It only meant the people inside them were still people.”

Lizzy listened.

“I will not promise this goes well,” Katherine said. “I have known people who regretted attempting a romance. I have known more who spent years wondering what would have happened if they had tried.”

The fountains continued at the far end of the pool. Lizzy watched the ripples reach the shallow steps and return in broken lines. The water reminded her of her own thoughts, breaking and reshaping on the surface while the pool itself remained the same underneath.