The former bandit boss's "throne" was a busted-out SUV seat, duct-taped to a stack of milk crates. A stained fur coat was draped over the backrest. Yue wiped it down with a rag, efficiently removing grime and bloodstains alike, then stepped aside and gestured to Lin.
"You should sit, Captain."
Lin flinched. "Uh... I-I'm good, actually."
Yue tilted her head.
Sierra crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "C'mon, pretty boy. It's your seat now."
Celestine gave him a solemn nod. "The Catalyst must claim the altar, lest the vision fracture."
"I-I don't—what?"
Yuzuki pushed him gently from behind. "Producer-sama, don't be shy~! Everyone's watching, desu!"
And they were.
Two dozen bandits knelt in the center of the camp, heads lowered, weapons dropped. Their shoulders sagged. Some looked pissed. Others looked terrified. A few just looked... horny and confused.
The frozen bodies still glittered near the fire pit, a not-so-subtle reminder of what happened to those who stepped out of line.
Under the weight of four girls' eyes and two dozen killers suddenly acting like choirboys, Lin awkwardly stepped forward and sat.
The "throne" creaked.
His ass immediately sank into the ripped cushion, and a spring jabbed his left thigh.
He tried to adjust but looked even more awkward doing so. "I-I feel like I'm LARPing..."
Yue stood beside him, her expression unreadable. "You're the highest-ranking authority here. They will listen."
Lin cleared his throat. "Okay... uh... right."
He looked out at the bandits, all kneeling in a rough semicircle. The former leader—now clutching a cloth-wrapped, frostbitten hand—was front and center.
"So... uh... who the fuck are you?"
The man looked up, trying to smile. "Name's Mack. Mack 'the Knife,' some folks used to call me. Real name's Derrick Mackenzie, but, uh, I don't go by that no more."
Lin narrowed his eyes. "And what the hell was this? A raider camp? You just jump anyone who walks by?"
Mack laughed nervously. "N-not exactly. We don't, uh... we don't always jump folks. Sometimes we trade. Barter. Help lost travelers."
Yue's voice cut like ice. "You tried to touch me."
Mack flinched. "Y-yeah, alright, I'm a piece of shit. Got no excuse for that. Just... look, you show up with four fuckin' goddess-tier women, I figured you were bluffin'. My bad. Hand's still kinda numb, if I'm honest."
Sierra gave a sharp whistle. "How many girls you dragged through this dump before us?"
Mack's face paled.
Celestine tilted her head. "Their bones whisper louder than yours."
Lin slammed a hand on the armrest of the busted seat. "Answer the fucking question."
Mack exhaled. "Two. Just two. Last year. One was a loner. Other came from a scav team. We didn't... they didn't stay long."
"You killed them?" Yuzuki gasped.
"N-no! Well, not directly. We sold the scav girl to a convoy that passed through. The other one escaped."
Sierra spat into the dirt. "Fucking pigs."
"I-I know we're trash, alright? I ain't gonna sugarcoat it. We ain't exactly, uh, model citizens."
Lin glanced at Yue, who simply waited for his next command.
He sighed. "Fine. What about supplies? Weapons? Vehicles? Anything useful?"
Mack was already nodding. "Yeah, yeah. We got a truck. Beat-up Ford, still runs. Got some diesel stashed. We got canned food, bandages, even a few painkillers and antibiotics. Kept a stockpile just in case."
Yue added, "Two rifles in working condition. Six sidearms. Ammo limited. Twenty percent rations moldy. Medicals at forty percent efficacy."
Lin blinked. "You already checked?"
She nodded. "Before cleaning the throne."
Mack laughed again, weakly. "She's, uh... efficient."
"You got a map?" Lin asked.
One of the younger bandits raised his hand like a scared schoolkid. "We got one! Uh... I mean, yeah. We've been markin' known convoys and safe zones. Or, like, less unsafe zones."
"Go fetch it," Lin said.
The guy scrambled.
Lin turned back to Mack.
"What about settlements? Cities? Anyone still building something out here?"
Mack shrugged. "Depends on what you call a city. There's Redpine up north—bunch of ex-military types. Real organized. Real paranoid. Don't let strangers in without tests. Then there's Gravetown, down in the valley. Run by merchants. Shit's expensive, but safer than sleeping in the dirt."
Yue added, "Both have confirmed radio signals. Range too weak for precise triangulation."
Lin nodded slowly. This was... information. Intel. Resources.
He still felt like a clown sitting in a trash throne, but for the first time since getting yeeted into this hellhole, he didn't feel entirely helpless.
Still, something felt off.
"You seem real eager to help all of a sudden," he said, narrowing his eyes at Mack.
The man grinned sheepishly. "C'mon, boss. You got four walking nukes on your side. We ain't gonna pick a fight now. You freeze dicks off like it's nothin'. We're just tryin' to survive."
Lin stared at him a beat longer.
"...Fine. But no more lies. You try to play us, you'll end up like the asshole next to your foot."
Mack glanced at the shattered ice body and nodded quickly.
"Crystal fucking clear."
***
The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, casting the makeshift camp in flickering orange hues from the fire pit. The scent of greasy meat on an open flame filled the air—charred rat, lizard, and something vaguely resembling chicken. The bandits took turns cooking, their once-defiant faces now blank and obedient, heads lowered as they grilled skewers over the fire like low-level NPCs awaiting orders.
Lin sat awkwardly on an upturned ammo crate, legs stiff, trying to look like a leader while feeling like a fraud.
His stomach growled, but his thoughts gnawed louder.
They had 20 bandits kneeling at their feet, and he still had no fucking idea what to do with them.
Across the fire, Sierra flicked a bone into the flames, watching it snap and sizzle. "If it was up to me," she said, chewing lazily on a skewer, "I'd put a fuckin' bullet in each one of these assholes. One by one."
Lin flinched. "W-what? No, wait, I—"
"C'mon, pretty boy," Sierra said, raising an eyebrow. "They were gonna strip us, bag us, and toss us into whatever hole they crawl out of at night. You think they deserve a second chance?"
Lin gulped. "I-I mean... maybe not deserve, but..."
Celestine, who sat cross-legged on the dirt like a meditating nun, hummed softly. "The blood in this place has memory. It cries out. A cleansing is due. Ritual sacrifice beneath the waning moon would suffice."
Lin turned toward her slowly, horrified. "R-ritual... what?"
Her eyes glowed faintly. "Only then shall balance be restored."
"...Right."
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to process that one.
Next to him, Yue stood still as a statue, arms crossed, cold eyes scanning the fire-lit faces of the bandits.
"They can be useful," she said flatly.
Lin blinked. "Useful?"
"Slaves," Yue clarified, with zero emotion. "They have strong backs and no will to resist. Strip them of weapons. Strip them of purpose. Give them a new one. Obedience."
"Oh..."
Lin's voice cracked, and he immediately tried to cover it with a cough. "I-I mean... yeah. Yeah, that's... pragmatic, I guess."
"Better than dead weight," Yue added.
He nodded nervously, eyes flicking toward the bandits. Several of them flinched when she glanced at them. One dropped his skewer into the fire.
Yuzuki skipped up next to him, kneeling beside his crate-throne and pressing her hands together under her chin. "I want servants too~! Like, proper ones! You know, the kind that say 'Yes, ojou-sama~!' and carry your bags!"
"You... you want that here?" Lin asked.
"Totally!" she chirped. "We're in the wasteland, right? That means it's time to level up our lifestyle, desu~!"
"I-I don't think there's enough shampoo for that..."
Yuzuki pouted. "Mou~ don't be such a buzzkill, Producer-sama."
Sierra rolled her eyes. "At least make 'em dig some damn trenches. We need defenses."
"I could have them build an altar," Celestine said softly. "For offerings."
"No one's sacrificing goats!" Lin snapped.
Celestine smiled faintly. "I didn't say goats."
Lin's palms were sweaty.
He looked around at the four women now offering competing visions of punishment, servitude, and cultism. All of them looked to him for the final call.
Because somehow, he was in charge.
"...Fuck me," he muttered.
Sierra grinned. "Maybe later, sugar."
Lin nearly choked on his spit.
"I-I-I mean," he stammered, "look, okay, let's just—let's just not kill them yet, alright? Like, we—we can watch them. Closely. Like... on parole! Yeah. They can, uh... cook and dig and clean and stuff. Work for their food. Earn their keep. And if they try anything—"
He glanced at Yue.
"They get flash-frozen like a microwaved burrito."
Yue nodded once.
"I can work with that," Sierra said, biting into a skewer. "Just don't expect me to cry if one of 'em steps on a landmine."
"I shall mark the boundaries of penance," Celestine intoned.
"Can they wear matching uniforms~?" Yuzuki beamed.
Lin sighed. "Can we at least let them finish cooking first?"
"Already done," called one of the kneeling bandits.
He held up a plate with trembling hands.
Lin accepted it like a nervous tourist. "...Thanks."
He wasn't sure what animal this meat came from, but tonight, it tasted like command.
Even if he still felt like a virgin in cosplay.
Q: Which waifu would you listen to in this case?