Most people wake up to the gentle chirping of birds, the soft glow of the morning sun, or perhaps a pre-programmed alarm clock playing a soothing lo-fi beat. I, Inuzuka Kyotaru, woke up to the sound of a titanium-reinforced whip breaking the sound barrier three inches from my left earlobe.
CRACK-THWACK!
"Rise and shine, Consort #001! The sun is up, the birds are screaming, and your soul is currently three minutes behind schedule!"
I didn't open my eyes. I didn't need to. The voice was a mixture of frozen starlight and corporate HR department coldness. I lay on the living room floor—where I had been relegated after Amilia and the hostage cat, Sorrow, claimed my bedroom—and felt the cold hardwood pressing against my bruised ribs.
"If I stay here," I whispered into the floorboards, "maybe the wood will eventually absorb me. I'll become a knot in the timber. A silent, non-participatory part of the architecture. It's a better life than this."
CRACK!
The whip struck the floorboards an inch from my nose.
"Nihilism is not on the syllabus for today, Student Kyotaru!" Instructor Kirara barked.
I finally sat up, my joints popping with the rhythmic enthusiasm of a bubble-wrap factory. I blinked, and my heart sank into my colon. My house—the place where I used to eat expired ramen in peace—had been transformed.
Overnight, Kirara had 'renovated.' The walls were no longer a neutral beige; they were covered in massive, red-and-gold banners. One featured a stylized image of a silver moon crushing a tiny, dark-haired stick figure with the slogan: TRADITION IS THE ONLY OXYGEN. Another banner near the kitchen simply said: OBEDIENCE TASTES BETTER THAN FREEDOM.
In the corner, there was a massive digital scoreboard.
[Amilia: 150 Points (Category: Enthusiasm/Silver Hair Density)]
[Yuko: 145 Points (Category: Tactical Pouting/Sanitation)]
[Inuzuka Kyotaru: -1,200 Points (Category: Existing Without Permission)]
"Why am I in the negatives, Kirara-sensei?" I asked, my voice cracking. "I was asleep! I didn't even do anything!"
"Exactly!" Kirara snapped, adjusted her star-glass spectacles. "You breathed 4,000 times during the night without filing a 'Respiratory Consent Form.' That is a major breach of the 'Subservient Devotion' protocol. Now, get up. The girls are already in the kitchen, and the 'Breakfast Battle Royale' is about to commence."
"Can I just have a bowl of cereal?" I pleaded. "Plain cornflakes. No tradition. No salt. Just cardboard and milk."
Kirara leaned down, her face inches from mine. "In this house, Kyotaru-kun, cereal is a declaration of war. Now, march!"
I stumbled into the kitchen, which had been divided down the middle with a line of glowing red tape.
On the left side stood Amilia, wearing an apron that said FUTURE EMPRESS OF THE KITCHEN in silver embroidery. She was wielding a chef's knife with the terrifying confidence of someone who had never actually seen an onion before.
On the right side stood Yuko, wearing a pristine white apron that looked like it had been sterilized in an autoclave. She was holding a wooden spoon like a mace, her 'Saintly' aura currently vibrating at a frequency that was making the glassware rattle.
"Savior! You are awake!" Amilia beamed, her silver hair tied back in a high ponytail. "I have prepared the 'Traditional Dawn-Breaker Feast'! It is a recipe passed down from the Third Moon Elder, specifically designed to shock the heart into a state of permanent adoration!"
"Kyotaru-kun, ignore the silver-haired poisoner," Yuko said, her voice dripping with the kind of sweetness that hides a jagged edge. "I've made you 'Saintly Purity Porridge.' It's made from organic grains grown in a temple garden and watered with the tears of repentant sinners. It's highly digestible, unlike her... whatever that is."
"It is a 'Traditional Omelet'!" Amilia shouted, pointing at a smoldering pile of yellow matter on her plate.
I looked at the "Omelet." It wasn't just yellow. It was shimmering. It looked like Amilia had melted down a gold bar, mixed it with twenty dozen eggs, and then seasoned it with a bucket of seawater.
"Why is it glowing, Amilia?" I asked, backing away. "Is it radioactive? Am I going to grow a second head?"
"It is the gold leaf!" she explained. "Gold is an excellent conductor of 'Marriage Energy'! And the salt... well, you know the salt is for purification!"
I turned to Yuko's 'Porridge.' It was a dull, grey sludge that smelled like a wet forest and broken dreams. There were small green bits floating in it that looked like lawn clippings.
"Yuko... are those grass clippings?"
"They are 'Blessed Herbs,' Kyotaru-kun," she said, her smile widening into something truly frightening. "They cleanse the liver of 'Traditional Contamination.' You will eat the whole bowl. Every. Single. Grain."
Instructor Kirara stepped forward, her whip coiled at her hip. "The rules of the 'Breakfast Battle Royale' are simple. As the Consort-in-Testing, Kyotaru must consume both dishes in their entirety. The girl whose dish causes the least amount of internal organ failure will be awarded 50 Marriage Points."
"Wait!" I yelled. "I am a human being! I have rights! I have a digestive tract that is already 80% scar tissue from the 'Leviathan's Blessing'!"
"Rights are for husbands who have reached Grade-A," Kirara said, checking her watch. "You are currently Grade-F (Failed Trash). Eat."
I sat down between them. Amilia shoved a spoonful of the 'Gold-Salt Omelet' into my mouth. It tasted like I was chewing on a luxury car that had been submerged in the ocean for a decade. My teeth crunched on the salt crystals, and the gold leaf stuck to the roof of my mouth like metallic peanut butter.
"Mmph!" I gagged.
"Now, the porridge!" Yuko commanded, shoving a massive glob of the grey sludge into my other cheek.
It tasted like dirt. High-quality, holy dirt, but dirt nonetheless. The contrast between the hyper-salty gold and the bland, swampy porridge caused a chemical reaction in my mouth that I'm fairly certain is banned by the Geneva Convention.
"He's enjoying it!" Amilia squealed. "Look at the way his eyes are rolling back in his head! That is the 'Traditional Ecstasy'!"
"No," Yuko whispered, leaning in. "That's the 'Childhood Friend Paralysis.' He's overwhelmed by the purity of my love."
I managed to swallow, my throat making a sound like a clogged drain. "I... I can see... my ancestors," I wheezed. "They're telling me... to come toward the light... and that the light is actually just a high-powered flashlight being held by an angry angel."
"Points awarded to Yuko for 'Least Lethal Coloration'," Kirara announced, marking her tablet. "However, Amilia receives points for 'Structural Integrity of the Salt.' Kyotaru, you have three minutes to finish both bowls or you will be forced to do 'Traditional Lunges' in the backyard while wearing a suit of armor made of wet cardboard."
I looked at the food. I looked at the girls. I looked at the cat, Sorrow, who was currently eating a piece of salmon that looked like it cost $50.
"I hate this world," I whispered, and I began to shove the sludge and the gold into my mouth with the desperate speed of a man who knew he was already dead.
After breakfast (which I'm pretty sure cost me three years of my life expectancy), Kirara announced the next exercise: "
The Shared Responsibility Trial.
"A household cannot function if the harem—I mean, the candidates—cannot coordinate their efforts," Kirara explained, standing in the living room. "Therefore, to build 'Destined Synergy,' you will be linked."
She pulled out a pair of high-tech, silver-plated handcuffs. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped one end onto Amilia's left wrist and the other onto Yuko's right wrist.
"Wh-What?!" Yuko shrieked, tugging at the chain. "I am not being linked to this silver-haired lunatic! Get it off! My skin is reacting to the lack of common sense!"
"This is an outrage!" Amilia yelled, pulling back. "The Shindou-Ainsworth are never bound! We are the binders! Also, her wrist smells like lavender and 'Middle-Class Desperation'!"
"Your mission is simple," Kirara said, ignoring their screams. "You must clean the entire house using only one bucket and one mop. And because you are a 'Trash-Tier Consort,' Kyotaru will act as the cleaning equipment."
"Excuse me?" I blinked. "Did you say 'equipment'?"
Kirara pointed to a pile of oversized, microfiber jumpsuits in the corner. "Put on the 'Human-Mop' suit, Kyotaru. It is covered in high-absorbent fibers. The girls will drag you across the floor to ensure every corner is polished to a 'Traditional Shine'."
"I am not a mop!" I screamed. "I am a student! I have a future! I was going to be an accountant!"
"Accountants don't have silver-haired heiresses," Kirara noted. "Now, suit up."
Five minutes later, I was strapped into a suit that made me look like a giant, blue Koala with a glandular problem. The fabric was so thick I could barely move my arms.
"Okay, move it, silver-girl!" Yuko barked, tugging at the handcuffs. "If we don't finish this, I'm going to miss my 'Self-Care' hour!"
"Do not pull me, peasant!" Amilia countered. "I shall lead the cleaning! It is my house now! I have annexed the dust!"
They grabbed me by the ankles.
"Wait, wait! Not the face! Anything but the face—!"
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIT.
The sensation of being dragged across a hardwood floor at high speeds is one I would not recommend. It's like being a very slow, very depressed hockey puck.
"There's a spot under the sofa!" Yuko yelled, shoving me into the dark, dusty void beneath the furniture.
"I can't fit! My head is stuck on a rogue remote control!" I muffled.
"Push harder!" Amilia commanded.
I felt a pair of feet—one wearing a designer school shoe, the other a sensible 'Saintly' flat—kick me further into the darkness. My face acted as a high-precision sensor for every spiderweb, lost coin, and dead beetle that had resided under my sofa since the late 90s.
"I found a nickel!" I yelled, my voice echoing from the shadows.
"Keep it for your funeral!" Yuko shouted back.
They dragged me back out, spun me around, and used me to 'buff' the hallway. The handcuffs made their movements erratic; whenever Amilia went left and Yuko went right, I was nearly torn in two. It was a tug-of-war where I was the rope, the mud, and the loser.
"Synergy!" Amilia cried, sliding me across the linoleum like a professional curler. "Do you feel the bond, Savior?! We are cleaning the path to our future!"
"The only thing I feel is friction burn on my nose!" I roared.
After an hour of being used as a sentient Swiffer, the house was indeed sparkling. I, however, was 40% dust by weight. I lay in the middle of the hallway, a pile of blue microfiber and misery.
"Excellent," Kirara said, tapping her tablet. "Efficiency: 12%. Entropy: 88%. Dark Humor: 100%. You pass, but barely."
"Can I take this off now?" I wheezed, my suit crackling with static electricity. "I'm currently a walking fire hazard."
"No," Kirara said. "The static will help you attract 'Traditional Energy' for the next trial. Now, to the bathroom!"
"The bath is the heart of the Japanese home," Kirara lectured, standing outside the bathroom door. "And for a Shindou-Ainsworth, it is a place of 'Strategic Cleansing.' However, a Savior must be able to maintain his composure even in the most... vulnerable of situations."
I was currently hiding behind the shower curtain, still in my microfiber suit, trying to peel off a piece of gum that had stuck to my ear during the living room annexation.
"Kirara-sensei, please," I whispered. "Just let me wash my face in peace. I have dust in my tear ducts. I'm crying grey tears."
"Training waits for no one!" Kirara declared. She looked at Amilia and Yuko, who were still handcuffed together and looking like they wanted to perform a double-assassination. "Your task is to 'Traditionally' assist the Savior in his cleansing. Use the loofah of destiny! But beware: the cuffs will test your patience!"
"Assit him?!" Yuko's face turned a shade of purple that shouldn't exist in nature. "In the bath?! This is a violation of every childhood-friend safety protocol in the manual!"
"It is a 'Sacred Scrub'!" Amilia cheered, though her own face was bright red. "I shall start with his back! It is the foundation of a husband!"
"Over my dead body!" Yuko roared, lunging for the loofah.
Because they were handcuffed, Yuko's lunge pulled Amilia forward, who tripped over the bathmat, which sent them both flying into the small bathroom space.
I saw the 'Dual-Threat Disaster' coming and panicked. My 'Bad Luck' immediately calculated the worst possible escape route. Instead of the door, I looked at the tiny, frosted-glass window above the tub—the one designed for ventilation, not for a teenage boy in a microfiber koala suit.
"I'M OUT!" I yelled, leaping onto the edge of the tub.
I dove for the window. My head went through. My shoulders went through. But the 'Human-Mop' suit, which was designed for maximum absorbency, was also incredibly bulky.
SCREEEEEE.
I stopped. I didn't fall through. I was wedged. My legs were kicking inside the bathroom, and my head was dangling outside, overlooking the neighbor's vegetable garden.
"I'm stuck!" I screamed, my voice muffled by the frosted glass. "I am a human plug! The air is cold out here! Why is the neighbor's dog looking at me like that?!"
Inside the bathroom, the chaos reached critical mass.
Sorrow, the hostage cat, had followed them in, looking for a high place to sit. Seeing the bathtub filled with water, and sensing the vibrating 'Jealousy Aura' from Yuko, the cat decided to take action. It swiped at a bottle on the shelf—a bottle labeled 'TRADITIONAL SUPER-FOAM: CONCENTRATED CONGENIALITY'.
The bottle fell. The cap popped off. The entire contents emptied into the warm bathwater.
"What is that smell?" Amilia asked, stopping her struggle with Yuko.
"It smells like... lavender and impending doom," Yuko whispered.
In this world, "concentrated" means "will probably destroy a city block." Within three seconds, the bathwater didn't just bubble—it exploded. A mountain of white, fluffy foam began to pour out of the tub. It wasn't normal foam—it was thick, sticky, and seemingly sentient.
"E-EEK!" Amilia shrieked as the foam rose past her knees.
"It's consuming us!" Yuko yelled, trying to pull away, but only dragging Amilia deeper into the suds.
Outside the window, I heard the commotion. "What's happening in there?! It sounds like a snowstorm!"
Suddenly, a wave of lavender-scented foam shot through the window around my waist, coating my legs and spilling into the garden.
"I am being birthed by a house!" I screamed at the neighbor's dog. "Help me, you mangy beast! Call the authorities!"
The foam continued to expand. It filled the bathroom, poured into the hallway, and began to leak out of the kitchen vents. Instructor Kirara stood in the living room, calmly holding an umbrella as a wall of bubbles rolled toward her.
"Ah," she noted, checking her tablet. "An 'Accidental Foam-Party' event. 300 points to the cat for initiative."
Inside the bathroom, Amilia and Yuko were completely submerged in bubbles, their voices muffled as they fought to keep their heads above the suds.
"Amilia! Stop... pulling... the chain!"
"I am... trying to... find... the Savior's legs!"
"DON'T FIND MY LEGS!" I yelled from the window. "MY LEGS ARE CURRENTLY COVERED IN BUBBLES AND REGRET! DON'T YOU DARE GRAB MY THIRD LEG IN PROCESS! JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS HOLE!"
An hour later, the fire department had left (after giving me a very confusing lecture about 'window safety'), and the house was dripping with the remnants of the Great Foam Apocalypse.
I was sitting on the front porch, wrapped in a towel, my skin smelling like a floral shop had died on me. Amilia and Yuko were sitting on the steps, still handcuffed, looking utterly defeated. The cat was sitting on the roof, licking a paw with the smug satisfaction of a god.
Instructor Kirara stepped out, her business suit somehow perfectly dry.
"The results are in for the 'Domestic Combat' trial," she said.
"Please," I whispered. "Just tell me I'm disqualified. Tell me I'm too unlucky to be a husband. Send me to the salt mines. I'm ready for the salt."
"On the contrary," Kirara said. "Your ability to remain stuck in a window while your house was consumed by a chemical reaction shows a remarkable 'Durability of Spirit.' You receive 5 points."
"Five? Out of what?"
"Out of ten million," she replied. "However, the girls have failed to coordinate. Therefore, the penalty must be enforced."
"Penalty?" Yuko looked up, her eyes wide. "What penalty?"
"Since you cannot be trusted to live in harmony," Kirara said, "you will both be required to share the 'Traditional Sleeping Bag of Unity' with Kyotaru tonight. It is a three-person sleeping bag designed to force physical and emotional proximity."
"NO!" we all screamed in unison.
"I'd rather sleep in the dryer!" I yelled.
"I'd rather be taxidermied!" Yuko cried.
"I... I find this penalty acceptable yet terrifying!" Amilia shouted.
"Silence!" Kirara snapped. "But before we begin the 'Sleeping Bag' ritual, we have a guest."
My 'Bad Luck Sense' didn't just tingle this time—it played a trumpet fanfare of pure terror.
A sleek, silver limousine—longer than my entire house—pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and a man stepped out. He looked like he had been filtered through a 'Perfect Human' app. He had golden hair, eyes like emeralds, and a suit that cost more than my neighborhood.
He walked up the path, his every step radiating a 'Luck Aura' so powerful that a stray bird actually dropped a gold coin at his feet.
"Amilia-sama," the man said, bowing with a grace that made my spine hurt just watching it. "I heard that you were being 'Saviored' by a commoner. The Board of Elders felt that perhaps a... higher-spec alternative was needed."
"Who are you?" I asked, looking like a drowned rat in my towel.
"I am Prince Kaito of the Golden Sun," he said, flashing a smile that was so bright it literally gave me a mild sunburn. "I am your Rival Suitor. I have never lost a game of chance, I have never stepped in a puddle, and I once found a winning lottery ticket in a salad."
He looked at me—shivering, smelling like lavender foam, and currently covered in microfiber lint.
"So," Kaito said, his voice dripping with polite contempt. "This is the 'Sovereign of Sorrow'? I've seen more impressive things in a dumpster."
I looked at Amilia, who was blushing. I looked at Yuko, who was looking at Kaito's emerald eyes with a momentary look of confusion. I looked at my own hands, which were still slightly blue from the 'Human-Mop' suit.
"Please," I said, grabbing Kaito's hand. "Take her. Take the house. Take the cat. Take the salt. I will give you my life savings, which is currently forty-two dollars and a nickel I found under the sofa. Just take my place."
Kaito blinked. "You... you want to give up?"
"I am begging you to win!" I sobbed.
"A pathetic display!" Kirara shouted, her whip cracking. "Student Kyotaru, you have just lost 5,000 points for 'Cowardice in the Face of Perfection'! Phase 3: The Duel of Destinies begins tomorrow!"
I fell to my knees as the silver limousine pulled away, leaving a scent of expensive cologne and my dying hope in the air.
"Gary," I whispered to the empty porch. "If you can hear me... tell the Elders I'm going to need more salt. A lot more salt."