Demonic Po*nstar System Chapter 975: New Invitation

In a studio apartment on the east side of the city Kaiden used to call home before the Dungeon Master business happened, Sarah sat cross-legged on her bed with a jar of Nutella wedged between her thighs, watching the news refuse to say anything new for the fourth hour running.

The spoon had stopped traveling a while ago. It stood planted in the jar like a flag while the feeds cycled the same three photographs: gray sedans arriving at the Eclipse checkpoint, gray sedans leaving the Eclipse checkpoint, and a federal seal with no statement under it.

Two federal teams had gone through her favorite person’s front gate in one week.

Sarah dug the spoon out and loaded it properly, because the conversation ahead would need fuel, and opened the group line.

It connected mid-scream.

"-AND ANOTHER SIX SEDANS’ WORTH OF SUITS CAN JUST SHOW UP TOMORROW, apparently, because there’s no rule against it!" Leia was pacing; her floorboards gave her away.

"Six hundred and twelve thousand doom threads since dinner, Sarah. I refuse to lock them. Let them people’s frustration be heard!"

"Hi, Leia."

"HI. I’m furious."

"Really? would’ve guessed."

"The sentiment numbers are awful," Emily said from her end, small and wobbling. She had the dashboard open and kept flicking it, as if the ratio might shake loose. "Fear is beating excitement four to one. It keeps getting worse and I hate it, I hate all of it."

"Fourteen people quit in one afternoon, and there’s a federal team on his gravel by the next morning. You want me to believe those two things aren’t related?" Leia had not stopped for breath.

"I’ve run this community for months. I know a brigade when I’m looking at one. This is a hate raid with government letterhead, and I want names."

"The first inspection went out live," Sarah said around the spoon, quieter than both of them and twice as bleak. "The whole country watched that man walk the compound for a day, and the report came back clean. Then a second team shows up a week later, off camera, and there’s still nothing posted. No findings, no ruling, no statement."

"It’s so unfair I could scream!" Emily said, and then actually did, briefly, into what sounded like a pillow. "Hundreds of people signed up to fight monsters, and instead they’re getting unjustly inspected day after day!"

"Yeah. Kaiden is being sabotaged in plain sight."

The call boiled a while longer before it simmered, three ban queues refilling unattended at the edge of each woman’s vision.

"What I don’t understand is the President," Emily went on. "He signed the accord with Kai on live television. The entire planet watched them shake hands. How does this happen under him?"

"I’ve been chewing on that all evening," Sarah admitted, spoon clicking against her teeth. "He’s not a dictator in some African backwater nation, he can’t just shoot dissidents. If he calls that bureau and orders them off, that’s... that’s the headline, right? Powerful man buries investigation into his favorite guild. Worse than anything they could actually find."

"So it has to be legal channels, and those move like continental drift. A signature isn’t a leash. I don’t know how anything works above city council level, but I’d bet the jar on that much."

"Or," Leia said, savoring each syllable, "he’s in on it."

"Leia."

"Think about it! The man has been in a cock-measuring contest with Kai since day one-"

"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE!!" Emily yelped.

"-and he is losing it miserably," Leia continued, unbothered. "Kai outgrew him inside a season and the whole world knows it. Maybe this is him reminding everyone whose sandbox this is. Look, the golden boy still fills out my forms, still opens his doors when my people knock. A power move."

"That’s grim," Sarah said. "But I can’t fully dismiss it..."

"I read ten thousand comments a day, Sarah. I know exactly what men with power do when a younger, hotter one shows up."

Then Leia stopped mid-syllable, because a chime had sounded on all three ends of the call at once.

"...Group message," Emily whispered.

"Sponsor spam. At this hour it’s always sponsor sp-"

Leia’s voice died in her throat.

The name on the new message was Kaiden’s own.

"THE DINNER THREAD!" Emily shrieked. "IT’S ALIVE! HE MESSAGED! PERSONALLY! US!"

The thread had been quiet since the night the invites went out, and now it glowed at the top of three interfaces at once.

Sarah caught the Nutella jar a half second before it went over. On the other end, judging by the crash, Leia’s chair was less fortunate.

They opened it together.

’Evening, ladies. I owe you three an apology. I invited you to dinner, and I meant it, and then things kept happening. They still haven’t stopped happening, honestly. I haven’t had time to bring you three over.’

Nobody said anything for a second.

"He apologized," Emily managed, thick. "To us. He’s under federal investigation and he’s apologizing about dinner."

"He’s buttering us up," Leia said, suspicious and delighted in equal measure. "Nobody apologizes that nicely unless they’re about to ask for something, so everybody keep their heads until we see what he wants."

Sarah was already typing, smiling at his name with the spoon parked in her cheek. Emily was typing too, audibly, whispering every word as she keyed it. Sarah had gotten as far as ’Please don’t apologize, we completely underst’ when the status line under Kaiden’s name changed.

Typing...

"STOP!" Leia bellowed. "NOBODY SENDS ANYTHING!"

"Why?!" Emily squeaked.

"He’s still typing! We wait, and we see what he says!"

"Why would we-"

"LEVERAGE, Emily." Leia dropped into her lecture register, the one she used on new mods.

"The man feels guilty. Guilt is capital. And you two are about to spend it on ’no problem at all, take your time.’ What if he’s mid-typing an apology package right now? A proper date. Cinema, dinner, and then, who knows, maybe he tucks all three of us into-"

"LEIA."

"-bed. I was going to say bed. As in, respectfully, a foursome-"

Emily made a sound like a kettle reaching temperature.

"-and INSTEAD," Leia powered on, "you two send ’no problem at all!!’ and the man goes, oh. Well. Nice. Puts his phone down, guilt refunded, and we get a sticker of a bowing cat. Is that the future you want? Is it, Emily?"

"You’re horrible," Sarah said, flat.

Emily, still mid-kettle, made a noise of fervent agreement.

"I’m a strategist," Leia sniffed. "And it costs you nothing to wait ten more sec-"

The next message landed.

’Anyhow. I’ve decided to leave the country for a bit. Want to come to Japan with me? We can have that dinner over there. I’ve always wanted to try sushi actually made in Japan. My treat.’

The call went completely silent.

Three women in three rooms stared at the message with their mouths open.

Emily broke first, at a pitch that only dogs and mana-sensitive equipment should have registered, feet drumming somewhere off-mic. Sarah heard herself screaming a breath later and made no attempt to stop. Somewhere under both of them, Leia was roaring like a stadium.

"JAPAN?! A TRIP TO JAPAN?! WITH KAIDEN?!"

"HE SAID DINNER! IN JAPAN! ON A DIFFERENT CONTINENT!"

"I TOLD YOU TO WAIT!" Leia howled over both of them. "WHO CALLED IT?! WHO SAID DON’T SEND?!"

"You did," Emily sobbed. "You genius. You horrible, disgusting genius."

"The foursome theory was foul," Sarah said. " But Leia, I will never doubt you again."

"Yeah." Leia settled into deep satisfaction. "That’s right. Keep going. Praise me more."

They kept going.

Above Leia’s basement, the ceiling banged twice with practiced authority.

"SHUT UP, LEIA! IT’S ONE IN THE MORNING!"

"I’M GOING TO JAPAN WITH KAIDEN GREY!!"

The ceiling went quiet.

"...Bring me back a katana."

The replies went out in a scatter. Sarah’s, despite everything she knew about herself, was just ’YES’, sent before her dignity could reach the button. Emily’s was a paragraph with three honorifics in it. Leia’s said ’invoicing you for a katana.’

...

The tickets arrived twenty minutes later, and they did not come from Kaiden.

"Girls." Leia sounded strange. "Look at the sender."

The header carried a crest none of them had ever received mail from: a crescent moon threaded through with silver cords, and under it, in two languages, the Shogunate Circle.