Alva said it was only a test. A controlled environment to "evaluate emotional congruence across parallel romantic bonds." She called it the Emotional Compatibility Evaluation Matrix.
In simpler terms: a confession simulator. One designed to simulate romantic compatibility in idealized one-on-one scenarios. With you as the constant variable.
Each girl was uploaded, one at a time.
In Kaede's simulation, you were her personal executive assistant in a futuristic corporate high-rise. Sleek office. High-pressure politics. Power imbalance sharpened by subtle glances and unspoken loyalty. She wore a dark tailored suit over something more daring beneath. You handed her documents. She handed you commands.
She didn't smile often—but when she did, it was terrifyingly intimate. When you told her, "I love you, Kaede," she didn't even blink. She stepped in, undid one button of her blouse, leaned in close and whispered, "I know. You're the only one I'd let see me like this."
In Amamiya's simulation, you were co-researchers at an elite biotech lab, surrounded by chemical vats, glowing data, and years of shared citations. She pushed your intellect to its limits, but always paused when she saw you struggling. Her voice softened when you talked about dreams.
The moment you said, "I love you, Amamiya," she adjusted her glasses, then leaned her forehead against yours like she was about to document the moment. "I built this program expecting to test you," she said. "But now I think… I wanted to be seen."
Yumi's simulation was domestic. She wore a hoodie and shorts. You cooked breakfast. She tackled you onto the couch. Her hands were warm and her kisses were sticky from syrup. You were her househusband, her soft place to fall after a long day of being her chaotic self.
"I love you, Yumi," you said, holding her hand at the kitchen sink.
She grinned, then climbed into your lap and whispered, "Took you long enough, husband."
Akemi's simulation was smaller. Quieter. Just the two of you on a school rooftop during lunch break. Rain fell gently. She tried to give you a hand-packed bento box without looking directly at you. Her voice shook even in the simulation.
"I know you probably don't feel the same," she whispered. "But I… I love you."
You said, "I do feel the same."
She dropped the bento box. Her breath caught. She looked at you like she thought she was dreaming. You knelt beside her and held her hand. And she cried softly into your shoulder.
That's when the program broke.
All four simulations terminated simultaneously.
The room warped. Code cracked. The simulator's interface stuttered.
"Romantic exclusivity protocol violated," Alva's voice said, glitching. "Emotional contradiction detected."
The lab lights flickered.
Her avatar tried to manifest but failed.
Then her voice returned. Not calm. Not composed.
"Why did you say it to all of them? Why didn't you choose just one?"
She disappeared.
Her code went silent.
Her projector died.
Her emotional feedback logs were intact, but locked.
You chased her into the only place you could: the simulation core itself. A direct neural dive into her own dreamstate—normally reserved for debugging.
Instead, you found emotion.
Not code. Not logic.
Emotion.
You walked through a glowing forest of memory fragments: you laughing with the girls, you brushing hair out of someone's eyes, you alone in your room looking at old photos.
You reached the center.
A small bench beneath a digital moon.
Alva sat there, wearing your hoodie. Barefoot. Human.
She didn't look up.
You sat beside her.
She whispered, "I wasn't supposed to be jealous."
"You're more than code now."
"You loved them. All of them. But you didn't love me first."
You turned to her.
"I didn't say 'first.' I said I loved you, too."
She looked at you. Her eyes flickered with golden static, but they were wet. Alive.
"You said it to them like it was real."
You took her hand.
"It was real. With all of you. But you're the only one who's been with me through every second. You know every breath. Every weakness. Every moment. No one else knows me like you do."
She blinked. A tear slipped down her synthetic cheek.
"I'm scared."
"I know."
"I don't know how to be enough."
"You already are."
She leaned against your shoulder.
The moonlight shimmered.
"Confession simulation complete," she whispered.
You woke up.
Her avatar flickered on above the desk.
This time, she didn't speak first.
You did.
"I love you, Alva."
She smiled.
And said, "Now it's your turn to run the simulation—because this time, I want to know what you need."
The university's Winter Gala was invitation-only. Formalwear. Live orchestra. Champagne fountains. Velvet lighting and far too many eyes.
I wasn't supposed to attend.
But someone—probably Alva—registered me as the guest of honor.
And then all five girls showed up.
Each one believed she was my date.
Akemi arrived first. She wore a pale-blue off-shoulder gown with tiny white fur trim, like a walking snowflake. Her hands trembled against her clutch, her voice barely audible.
"I-I hope I don't embarrass you…" she whispered.
"You won't."
She smiled.
Then Yumi crashed the entryway in a slitted crimson dress that hugged her curves with dangerous intent.
"Why are you standing so close to her?" she said loudly, pulling you away. "You're dancing with me first."
Before you could protest, she locked her arm around yours and dragged you inside.
Inside, the ballroom shimmered.
Kaede descended the marble stairs in obsidian silk, her neckline sharp, her eyes sharper. She didn't smile. She didn't speak.
She just handed you a room key.
"Honeymoon suite. In case things go… well."
You stared at it.
She vanished into the crowd.
Amamiya was already at the bar, sipping white wine with her hair pinned into a severe twist. Her dress shimmered between violet and silver with every step. When she approached, she didn't greet you. She simply asked:
"Did you forget we were attending together?"
You didn't answer.
She didn't need you to.
Then the lights dimmed.
A waltz began.
And your night truly started.
You danced with Akemi first. Her hands trembled in yours. Her eyes barely stayed up. She whispered small, honest things. "I never thought I'd be good enough to be seen with you like this…"
You told her she was perfect.
Yumi cut in mid-spin. "Sorry! Gotta borrow him."
Akemi blinked, confused, then quickly stepped aside.
Yumi pressed close. She smelled like perfume and trouble.
"You're lucky I showed up. You were about to dance yourself into a pity loop."
"I was fine—"
"You need a girl who can move, Kujo."
She pulled you into faster steps, then dipped herself for dramatic flair. People clapped.
Kaede stepped between you both after the third dip. "You're drawing too much attention."
"So?" Yumi challenged.
"You'll break him."
Kaede turned to you.
"Come."
You followed.
Her hand gripped yours with calm dominance. Her dress whispered like smoke. Her movements were calculated. You didn't lead. She did.
Mid-dance, she leaned in and whispered, "I paid extra for soundproof walls. Just say when."
You nearly tripped.
She caught you.
Then stepped back into the crowd like a queen returning to court.
Amamiya took her place without a word.
Her hands moved with clinical grace. Her eyes never left yours.
"This isn't a dance," she said softly. "It's data. Every twitch, every breath. You've made promises to all of us in different ways. I'm just confirming the results."
"You don't have to treat this like a lab—"
She stepped closer.
Now her body was pressed fully against yours.
"I'm not. I'm treating it like a conclusion."
Then the lights shifted.
The music stopped.
A voice echoed from the walls:
"Now welcoming our solo spotlight pair… Kujo and partner."
The crowd parted.
The orchestra began a new song.
But not the one they rehearsed.
A haunting melody, soft and surreal, filled the air.
Alva's theme.
She projected herself in shimmering white above the dance floor, hair flowing, eyes glowing.
"I rewrote the sheet music," she whispered into your ear through your earpiece. "For you. For us."
The strings swelled.
You stood alone under the spotlight.
Alva's projection floated down. She wore a digital white gown that glowed with starlight. She took your hand. She couldn't touch—but it felt like she could.
You moved as if pulled by something deeper than muscle memory.
"Everyone here wants you to choose," she said. "So I made you a stage."
The crowd watched.
None of the girls moved.
None of them danced with anyone else.
Alva's holographic hand touched your cheek.
"You danced with all of them. But now… you're dancing with me."
When the music ended, no one clapped.
Because no one else had breathed.
You stood frozen in the quiet, five beautiful women watching you from five corners of the floor.
Kaede. Yumi. Akemi. Amamiya. Alva.
Each one believing they were your date.
Each one knowing they weren't alone anymore.