Everyone’s trip must have been surprisingly peaceful and fun, judging by the sheer explosion of chatter when the bus returned. It was half past seven, the sky dimming into that soft evening blue, and the moment the doors opened everyone poured out looking excited but also hungry.

  I was waiting for them at the lounge, and with their state, we all drifted straight toward the tenth-floor dining hall—some driven by hunger, some by habit, and in my case, both.

  I had spent the day bouncing between errands and babysitting two old monsters, all while keeping my laptop open beside me like a loyal, overworked companion.

  The only downside of not being able to join the bus ride was that I wasn’t there to intercept the twin she-witches of destruction before they had the chance to tell my parents that I was, allegedly, a “particularly bickering individual.”

  As if they had any moral high ground to stand on. That one was definitely going in my great book of grudges. Unfortunately, vengeance would have to wait.

  Why?

  Tonight, I was sitting with my brother, Remy, Arthur, Trayn, and Takashi. while my enemies, Reika and Shizuku, had cleverly migrated to a safer habitat with parents. They were looking incredibly smug.

  Oh, how fortunate for them. Not far from my verbal reach but I can’t just do anything drastic either. Oh, they’re lucky they managed to find a safe space.

  Close to our left, Hanzo, Shunsuke, and Yuuto had claimed a table. Nana-baa-san and Shizuku’s mother, in some strange twist of social gravity, decided to sit with them. But three paid them no mind, and judging from their laughter with my brother, they must’ve bonded during the bus ride. That was good.

  On the other hand, Nana and Shizuku’s mother were also talking animatedly to one another. And the younger woman seemed to be cracking jokes which was making the older lady smirk.

  The apocalypse might be closer than I thought.

  The hall buzzed with murmurs, cutlery clinking against fine plates, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing under the soft lights and classical music. Every corner of the room smelled faintly of roasted meats and buttery pastries, mixed with the sharp tang of perfume and cologne—an aroma that screamed, this is fancy, act accordingly.

  Despite this, most of the room remained shyly segregated into little clusters, each group clinging to its familiar faces. The only ones actually daring to mingle were Suzu’s group and the girl from last night. I refused to ask her name. Principle. Pride. Something like that. That and they took more than one picture plus a video.

  Yeah, I am, never, letting go of that.

  They were only one table away, noses buried in their phones, tapping furiously at some app they had downloaded to try and communicate. It’s a start I suppose.

  Once I noticed everyone was nearly done eating, I dug into my pocket. “Alright people, here you go.” I gave out the good stuff, bars of Van Howten dark milk chocolate with Fruit and Nut.

  “Where are you keeping these?” Shizuku asked curiously as she grabbed a few bars, without asking. She leisurely slid back beside her best friend, then stuck out her tongue at me, as I was glaring at her.

  “And why are they still cold?” Trayn added after touching the bars.

  “I’ll never tell,” I replied as I got out more.

  Then the microphone crackled to life, static rolling through the hall like an announcement from the heavens—or a warning, depending on how much you trusted Konrad with electronics.

  “Everyone,” Konrad boomed, “once you’ve finished eating, feel free to take a short break. At ten o’clock, we’ll begin our games. Tonight’s event will be trivia—a question-and-answer showdown!”

  He proceeded to explain the rules. You could participate in every game for fun, but once you won a prize, that was it—no more prizes for you. Only the thrill of helping others. It made sense. A thousand dollars was no small carrot, and definitely enough to whip even the shyest person into competitive frenzy.

  “Are you girls going to participate?” my mother asked her newly acquired conversational partners.

  “Ah, no ma’am, I’m not good at trivia,” Shizuku murmured shyly, fiddling with her hair. “But Rai is good at those kinds of games.”

  “Yes, Mother! I will absolutely participate!” Reika declared, hand on her chest like she was announcing her candidacy for president. Then, with burning determination, she added, “I’m entering because I need money for the trip.”

  Well now. That simply would not do.

  “Yeah, I think I am going to participate as well,” I declared lightly making every head from four tables swing towards me.

  “Ae!” Reika protested as she glared at me, like I had just committed war crimes or something equally horrendous.

  She then immediately complained to my mother about how much of brute I was being —again—or that I was being unfair—again. I have no doubts that this kind of behavior has happened more than once already.

  If women have women’s intuition, then so does men. It’s called Bullshit intuition.

  Wait.

  That doesn’t sound right.

  My ever-patient mother, bless her heart, hugged her and patted her head sympathetically while shooting me a glare sharp enough possibly to slice fruit.

  “Can—can you not?” my brother asked hopefully, hope sparkling weakly in his eyes.

  I simply smiled while looking at Reika who grew even more distraught and complained more to my mother and her loyal best friend.

  Among everyone here, the only real contenders for trivia dominance were Reika and myself. And her skill set ended strictly at trivia. The moment a game required anything other than knowledge—speed, luck, breathing—the odds of Reika winning dropped to a generous 2%. And since trivia wouldn’t repeat, taking her out in this round would dramatically lower her chances of winning the prize for the next games.

  And in the off chance that there will be another trivia event, even if I can’t win in another game, I can just help another person win. And by not attending the bus ride, I managed to learn what kind of games the two Primarchs planned to do.

  Just. As. Planned.

  Mwuha… mwuhaha… MWUHAHAHA!

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Beside me, Takashi leaned towards my brother. “What’s-—uh—happening with your older brother?”

  Wills shrugged. “Nii-san does that from time to time, the three-stage laugh. Hang around him long enough and you’ll get used to it.”

  “Yeah, no one really knows what goes on in his head during those moments. Just roll with it,” Arthur added coolly before taking a sip of Juice as Trayn laughed.

  I ignored their little conversation as my parents sighed in perfect unison, seasoned veterans of my antics.

  Father cleared his throat. “Changing the subject, what did you do with your spare time today? I hope you didn’t give the two organizers a tough time?”

  “Of course not!” I replied, appalled. “After doing some errands for them they let me go. And I had time to work on—”

  “This!” I announced triumphantly, swiveling my laptop toward him.

  On the screen was a video of a cockfight. But the star of the show wasn’t the actual chicken—no, it was my creation. I had transformed one of the roosters into a full-blown ninja warrior. Animated arms, a utility belt, nunchucks, shuriken, twin swords, even a tiny black mask.

  One hundred percent lethal. One hundred percent majestic.

  “I call him big G,” I declared as everyone near the table eyed my work. Everyone smiled or snickered as the ninja chicken was doing cool poses with his animated hands.

  The upright and regal ninja fighter chicken hurled shuriken with deadly precision, then unsheathed his miniature blades to slice through his opponent like a feathery warrior poet.

  “The mightiest of cocks!” I declared earning another round of snickers while several people burst out laughing.

  My parents being my parents shot me disapproving glares and were not amused by my choice of words.

  Reika and Shizuku hurried over to my sides and seemed eager to inspect my accomplishment and masterpiece.

  “Hmm, okay, maybe it is kind of impressive,” Shizuku admitted reluctantly while scratching her head. “The animations I mean. Not how you said it.”

  Hey, a W is a W, no matter how it’s said.

  “And what happens if I do this?” Reika asked sweetly.

  Before I could react, her grubby goblin fingers pressed the power button.

  “Nooo! Big G!” I wailed as the screen went black. “It’s too soon! You didn’t even last one chapter!”

  He was going to be a masterpiece! The one who would conquer the heavens with his elven secret techniques!

  I glared viciously at the witch of destruction who was sticking her tongue out at me, while everyone else laughed or snickered at our antics.

  Oh, this isn’t over.

  I sat back down at the boys’ table with all the gravitas of a man preparing for battle. The moment my ass touched the chair—

  “What’s wrong? Trouble in your marriage?” Arthur fired off instantly.

  The boys erupted like hyenas. I scoffed, lifting my chin, channeling dignified wounded bachelor energy.

  “Shut up. Marriage isn’t real—it’s state propaganda. A conspiracy. Psychological warfare. And reasons.”

  A perfectly synchronized “oooooooh” rolled around the table like a bad wave.

  “What are you people patronizing me for?” I demanded. “I’m right, and you know it.”

  Before I could continue my impassioned rant about the government’s anti-bachelor agenda, Hanzo leaned forward.

  “Hey, Vi—” he paused, then added politely, “uh… Vi-san?”

  “Just Vi,” I corrected. “What’s up?”

  He nodded toward Reika and Shizuku across the hall. “You three are childhood friends, right? Then why do you call Reika ‘Rai’ when you just call Shizuku by her own name?”

  I turned slowly toward Reika with the sweetest, most innocent smile known to mankind.

  It had the desired effect—her entire face scrunched up like she’d bitten into a whole lemon.

  “Don’t you dare, Ae,” she hissed, pointing at me like a tiny furious prosecutor.

  Revenge for Big G!

  “That’s because,” I said brightly, “when she was young, she wrote her own name with the wrong kanji.”

  The table went dead silent.

  Even Shizuku stared at her friend like she’d just learned a forbidden secret.

  “What?” Shizuku demanded, leaning in. “Explain.”

  Reika ducked down, burying her face in her hands. The tips of her ears though, were bright red, possibly enough to stop traffic.

  “She used the kanji for ‘electricity’ instead of ‘beautiful,’” I explained proudly. “And she was so proud that she could, not knowing it was wrong. For an entire year.

  A beat of silence.

  Then Arthur, completely unfazed, commented, “Huh. I thought you called her that because you two were being sweet with each other.”

  “She once threatened me with a book,” I said flatly.

  “There are rough patches in every relationship,” Trayn added, barely holding back laughter.

  Before the teasing could escalate into actual homicide, Nana baa-san shuffled back over and announced that she’d return when the games began. Shizuku’s mother drifted off to join her daughter—maybe fearing my table would corrupt them further.

  Not wanting the trio of Hanzo, Shunsuke, and Yuuto to feel left out, I waved them over.

  “Come on. Join the chaos.”

  They exchanged glances, equal parts excitement and joy and got up instantly.

  “You realize,” Arthur said once everyone was seated, looking around our now very full table, “with this many people here, it’s going to get loud.”

  A gross understatement.

  It was already loud. Eight boys—nine including me—packed around a table in a luxurious hotel hall like we were staging a coup.

  Jokes flew. Punchlines overlapped. Laughter ricocheted off the chandelier crystals. Someone spilled juice. Someone else declared war over potato wedges. It was beautiful.

  And in the midst of all this, Trayn leaned forward, tapping my shoulder.

  “Hey, Vi—Taka wants to tell you something,” Trayn said, giving me a friendly tap on the back.

  I turned to Takashi, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights. “What’s wrong?”

  He swallowed. “It’s just that, well…”

  “Are you scared of me?”

  “What? No. Maybe. A little?”

  “If you’re not afraid—” I said chuckling and steepling my fingers like a scheming antagonist. If I had glasses then it would be perfect. “—then speak your mind.”

  Takashi took a breath. “I was wondering if you have any tips for someone who wants to get into programming.”

  I was genuinely surprised because it was not a question I was expecting. It was perfectly reasonable question, yet he said it as if confessing a crime.

  “That depends,” I replied. “Do you mean working professionally? Or learning for fun? Hobby? What language are we talking about?”

  “C# and C++. I was thinking of maybe going for part time first to learn, then going full professional after a few years,” Takashi said rather, shyly.

  “Well, then.” I nodded approvingly. “It always starts with fundamentals. Do you know how to make the triangles? Show me. Left, right, inverted.”

  Without another word, I powered my laptop back on—Big G’s sacrifice will not be in vain—and opened Visual Studio. Then I handed the laptop to Takashi and moved behind him like some eccentric mentor evaluating his disciple.

  Despite the sweat forming at the back of his neck, he managed just fine. He was somewhat confident, decent logic, minor hesitations. He was working from memory, not blind guessing. Promising.

  “Self-taught?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he murmured, a little embarrassed. “I mainly do it in my free time. I have to help at our restaurant most days.”

  “What about college?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  Takashi lowered his eyes. “My father said I should just help out at the restaurant.” His voice dipped, carrying a quiet disappointment he didn’t bother hiding.

  Arthur leaned forward, and tried to cheer up his friend. “The college we planned to attend is nearby. We were going to stop by the restaurant every day anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Trayn chimed in, throwing an arm around Takashi’s shoulder. “And like we told you—if you want, we can even bring a girl along for you.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows in what he probably thought was a seductive manner.

  Takashi lightly elbowed him on instinct, cheeks reddening. Trayn yelped, “Ow! Hey, I was trying to help!”

  The whole table snickered, the tension loosening just enough to let Takashi smile again.

  “Still, a noble struggle,” I said with a small smile. I was honestly impressed. Few people ever take the initiative to go against the expectations of family. But this mad lad is trying to play both sides. I can feel my smile becoming a genuine grin, mostly because once upon a time, it’s what I had done, and still doing.

  “Tell you what, keep practicing. I’ll check in on you after two weeks or so and give you some more things to study and work on.”

  Takashi looked at me, confused as to where I was going with what I said.

  “Since after my graduation, we’ll be returning here. For. Some. Reason.” I shot a glare across our table at the mother–daughter duo. Shizuku responded with a hmph, turning her head away from me, while her mother looked far too pleased with herself.

  “You still have three months to prepare, but I can test you again. And if you’re interested, depending on your skill set by then, I could recommend you to the company I’m working at.”

  Takashi’s eyes widened, mouth dropping slightly.

  “They’ll probably start you as part-timer, and that’s around five hundred dollars,” I continued. “And also, you’ll need to learn English if you get hired, which shouldn’t be too hard, since you have these two idiots with you.”

  I gestured to Arthur and Trayn while the other boys erupted—not laughing, but cheering like he’d just been drafted into the Avengers. Takashi looked stunned, hopeful, terrified, and excited all at once.

  Leaning back in my chair, I watched the moment unfold. The hall glowed warmly around us and our table buzzed louder than any other, a riot of jokes and dreams and ridiculousness.

  Honestly, this was better than any bus ride.