The email arrived on a Tuesday. It was addressed to Ectiqa's professional account, which Miki managed with the security protocols of a national intelligence agency. It wasn't from a convention or a magazine. It was from the Hoshizora Corporation, one of the biggest video game publishers in the country.
"No. Freaking. Way," Miki breathed, reading the email for the tenth time in their studio.
"What? What is it?" Hana demanded, peering over her shoulder.
Rina, who was sketching designs in her notebook, looked up. "Miki-chan? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Better," Miki said, her voice filled with a reverence Rina had never heard before. "They want to invite you. As a guest of honor. To the annual Hoshizora Gaming Gala."
The Hoshizora Gala was the stuff of legends. It was an ultra-exclusive, black-tie event held in the city's most luxurious hotel ballroom. It was for developers, executives, and industry titans. Getting an invitation was like getting a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, if the factory was filled with game designers instead of Oompa Loompas.
"They want... me?" Rina asked, pointing at herself.
"They were blown away by your Archon cosplay," Miki explained, scrolling through the details. "'A perfect embodiment of our flagship character.' They want you to debut a new cosplay there. From their upcoming title, 'Midnight Requiem.' They'll pay for all the materials. And the appearance fee is..." Miki's voice trailed off as she stared at the number on the screen. "Okay. That is... a lot of money."
Hana was already vibrating with excitement. "'Midnight Requiem'! The designs for that are gorgeous! All elegant, gothic-lolita vampire stuff! We could use velvet! And lace! Oh, the lace!"
But Rina wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed on one terrifying paragraph in the email.
As this is an intimate industry event, our guests of honor will be asked to participate in a private pre-gala VIP reception. For security and networking purposes, we must ask that all masks and vision-obscuring helmets be removed during this portion of the evening.
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Remove her mask. In a room full of people with cameras. People who knew people.
"I can't," she said, her voice a small, panicked whisper. "I can't do it."
"Rina..." Miki started gently. "This is the biggest opportunity you've ever had. This could turn your hobby into a real career."
"But they'll see my face!" she argued, her hands clenching. "What if someone from school is there? What if it gets online? What if... what if Onii-chan sees it?"
The thought of me, her dorky, overprotective brother, discovering her secret life this way - not from her, but from some flashy industry photo - was her worst nightmare. I would be so confused. I'd probably think she was some kind of delinquent.
"We'll figure it out," Hana said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll make your makeup so incredible, your own mother wouldn't recognize you."
That was the problem. My own mother probably wouldn't. But I spent every single day with her. I knew her face better than anyone.
Meanwhile, I was facing a crisis of my own. As Lore Master for the Ectiqa Alliance, it was my sacred duty to know everything about the characters she might cosplay. And Hoshizora had just dropped the first official concept art for 'Midnight Requiem.'
"This is a disaster," I muttered, staring at the high-resolution image of the main character, Lady Seraphina. Her dress was an impossibly complex cascade of black lace, silver embroidery, and deep crimson velvet. "The filigree on the corset alone... it's a nightmare. How am I supposed to write a convincing analysis of the design's historical influences if I can't even tell what half of this stuff is?"
I spent the next two weeks in a research frenzy. I learned more about Victorian-era fashion and gothic architecture than I ever had in history class. I was cross-referencing types of lace - Chantilly, Alençon, Venetian - trying to identify what the artist had drawn.
The pressure was on in both our lives. Rina's side of the apartment became a restricted zone. Her door was always closed, and strange, expensive-looking packages of fabric kept arriving, which she would snatch from the delivery guy before I could ask any questions. She was more exhausted than ever, often coming home from her "library study sessions" and falling asleep at the dinner table.
One evening, I was on my laptop in the living room, deep in an article about the symbolism of bat imagery in gothic literature for a fan club post. Rina was on her own laptop at the kitchen table, supposedly doing homework.
"Hey, Rina," I said without looking up. "What do you know about crushed velvet?"
She went completely still. "W-what?"
"Crushed velvet," I repeated, scrolling through a supplier's website. "Is it hard to work with? I'm... asking for a friend. For a... a school project. A doll-making project."
It was the lamest lie I'd ever told.
"I-I wouldn't know," she stammered, her eyes wide. "I'm a normie, remember? I don't do crafty stuff."
"Right. Of course," I said, narrowing my eyes. Her reaction was suspicious. My 'secret boyfriend' theory evolved once again: maybe she wasn't just dating him. Maybe she was making outfits for him. Kinky. And deeply disturbing.
A few days before the gala, a package arrived with my name on it. It was from the Ectiqa Alliance administrators. Inside was a crisp, black t-shirt with the fan club's logo on the front, and on the back, in elegant silver script, it said 'STAFF.' There was also a letter.
Starlight_Knight_01-san, as a thank you for your hard work, we've secured you a ticket to the public viewing area of the Hoshizora Gala. You won't be able to access the main floor, but you will be able to see the guests of honor on the red carpet from a special fan zone. We hope you'll attend and represent the Alliance.
My heart stopped. I was going to the Gala. I was going to see her new costume in person.
That night, as I lay in bed, clutching my official staff t-shirt, I felt a surge of protectiveness. Ectiqa was heading into the lion's den, this fancy, corporate world. She needed her supporters. She needed her knight.
I had no idea that the person who needed that support the most was sleeping just a few feet away, having a stress-dream about lace.