I woke up sandwiched between two women who’d apparently forgotten they weren’t the only ones with working brains in this arrangement.

"Don’t stare at her too long. That’s creepy." Mera paced around my kitchen island, her tail swishing behind her like an irritated cat. "But maintain eye contact so she knows you’re paying attention."

"And don’t touch her," Cheon added from the couch, where she sat with perfect posture despite being naked except for one of my shirts. "Physical contact initiates the drain. We established this."

I groaned into my coffee mug. "Why are you two lecturing me like I didn’t fuck your brains out a few hours ago?"

Mera stopped pacing. Cheon’s cheeks flushed pink.

"That’s different," Cheon said finally. "We consented to the drain."

"And Aurora hasn’t." Mera leaned over the counter, yellow eyes narrowing. "So no touching."

"I wasn’t planning on touching her."

"You touched her hand yesterday," Cheon pointed out.

"And look how that turned out." I set my mug down harder than necessary. "Believe me, I’ll keep my hands to myself."

Mera and Cheon exchanged a look that made my stomach twist. I’d seen that look before. It meant they were agreeing on something without words, and whatever it was, I probably wasn’t going to like it.

"What?" I asked.

"We’re going out," Mera announced.

"Girl bonding day," Cheon added.

"What the hell is girl bonding day?"

"Shopping," they said simultaneously.

Great. They were already doing the creepy speaking-in-unison thing. How long before they started dressing alike and finishing each other’s sentences?

"You need space to talk to Aurora without us hovering," Cheon explained.

"And we need retail therapy," Mera added. "Also your credit card."

I choked on my coffee. "My what now?"

Mera held out her hand, palm up. Her tail curled expectantly.

"You want my credit card." It wasn’t a question.

"Yes."

"For girl bonding."

"That’s right."

I stared at her outstretched hand for approximately five seconds before sighing and pulling out my wallet. The black Angelo Corp card felt heavier than usual as I handed it over.

"Don’t spend more than six thousand," I warned. "I don’t want my father asking questions."

Mera’s eyes widened. "Six thousand?"

"Yes." I held her gaze. "That’s the limit."

"For each of us?"

"Total."

She pouted but pocketed the card anyway. "Fine. We’ll be conservative."

Cheon coughed into her hand. It sounded suspiciously like "liar."

"What time is Aurora coming?" Mera asked.

"Two."

"Perfect." Mera grabbed Cheon’s hand and pulled her toward the bedroom. "We’ll be gone by noon. Back by four. That gives you plenty of time to explain your incubus tendencies without us complicating things."

"They’re not incubus tendencies," I called after them. "It’s a drain ability."

"Same difference!" Mera’s voice echoed from the bedroom. "And clean this place up! It looks like a disaster zone."

I glanced around the apartment. She wasn’t wrong. Clothes were scattered everywhere—my shirt by the door, Cheon’s bra on the coffee table, Mera’s panties hanging from a lamp. The kitchen counter was cluttered with takeout containers. The couch cushions were askew from where Mera had pushed me down after dinner for round three. Or was it four?

I’d lost count.

Forty minutes later, Mera and Cheon were dressed and heading for the door. Mera wore a tight red dress that hugged every curve, while Cheon had opted for a more modest blue skirt and white blouse. Both looked unfairly good for a Saturday morning.

"Remember," Cheon said, her voice dropping into lecture mode, "no touching, no flirting, and if she asks direct questions about what happened yesterday, be honest but vague."

"Honest but vague," I repeated. "That’s helpful."

"You know what I mean." Cheon adjusted her purse strap. "

"I got it."

Mera leaned in and kissed me hard enough to make my knees weak. The drain opened automatically, her cinnamon-smoke Essentia flooding into me before she pulled back.

"For luck," she explained with a wicked grin.

Not to be outdone, Cheon stepped forward and kissed me as well. Her electrical-honey Essentia hit differently—sharper, brighter, but just as addictive.

"Try not to get another girlfriend while we’re gone," she said dryly.

"No promises."

The door closed behind them, and I was alone for the first time in what felt like years but had really only been a few days. The silence was almost disorienting after the constant activity of having two women in my space.

I surveyed the apartment with fresh eyes, trying to see it as Aurora would. It wasn’t just the obvious mess that needed attention. There were subtle signs of cohabitation everywhere—three toothbrushes in the bathroom, women’s clothing mixed with mine in the laundry basket, Mera’s red jacket thrown over a chair, Cheon’s perfectly arranged shoes by the door.

This place was supposed to be a bachelor pad. Now it looked like I was running a small harem.

Which, technically, I was. But Aurora didn’t need to know that.

I started cleaning, sorting clothes as I went. Mera’s were easy to identify—bright colors, minimal coverage, maximum impact. Cheon’s wardrobe was more subdued—blues and greys, practical but elegant. My own clothes were mostly black, with the occasional grey or white thrown in for variety.

As I worked, my mind wandered. Maybe I should look for a bigger place. This penthouse was spacious for one person, but with two women staying over regularly, it was starting to feel cramped. A house would offer more room, more privacy, more space for everyone to exist without tripping over each other.

But this building was secure. My father owned it. The security team was discreet. And the location was perfect—close enough to campus but far enough from prying eyes.

For now, it would have to do.

I connected my phone to the speakers and put on music while I worked. Some upbeat electronic track that Mera had added to my playlist. It wasn’t my usual style, but it had a good rhythm for cleaning.

By the time I’d cleared the visible mess, my stomach was growling. I opened the refrigerator and stared at the barren shelves. Takeout containers. Energy drinks. A half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey that I didn’t remember buying.

No actual food.

The cabinets weren’t any better. Protein bars, coffee, more energy drinks. Nothing that could constitute a meal or be offered to a guest.

Aurora was arriving in two hours, and I had nothing to serve her but water and caffeine.

Perfect host material.

I checked my watch. If I hurried, I could make it to the small grocery store about a mile away and back before she arrived. The bodega-style shop was family-owned, overpriced, but convenient. And they made fresh sandwiches that weren’t half bad.

Decision made, I changed into jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, grabbed my keys, and headed out.

The walk to Saito’s Market took fifteen minutes. The cool morning air felt good after being cooped up in the apartment, and the streets were relatively quiet for a Saturday. A few joggers passed me, along with dog walkers and the occasional couple holding hands.

Normal people living normal lives without system interfaces forcing them to seduce multiple women to avoid death.

Must be nice.

Saito’s was a small corner store with hand-painted signs and a bell that jingled when I pushed open the door. The elderly woman behind the counter—Mrs. Saito herself—nodded in recognition. I’d been here enough times that she knew me, though we’d never exchanged more than pleasantries.

I grabbed a basket and started filling it with essentials. Coffee, because I was almost out. Bread, cheese, and cold cuts for sandwiches. Fresh fruit because Cheon had been complaining about scurvy. Beer because I deserved it. Snacks, because Mera would devour anything left unattended. And orange juice, because it seemed like something normal people had in their refrigerators.

I was debating between two brands of tea when the bell above the door jingled again. I glanced up, expecting another customer.

Instead, four men in black hoodies burst in, waving a gun and shouting.

"Nobody move! Hands where I can see them!"