The air crackles. Kenji lies unconscious on the convention floor, a blissful escapee from reality. Rina, Haruka, and Aiwa stand frozen, their collective gazes fixed on me with the intensity of laser beams set to 'disintegrate.' Ichigo, the impossibly cool Crimson Knight, has just invited me, Rui Hinamata, handler extraordinaire and reigning champion of awkwardness, to a fancy industry dinner. And he gave me a ten-minute deadline.
My brain feels like it is trying to run advanced calculus while simultaneously juggling flaming chainsaws. Go with Ichigo? Stay and face the triple-headed hydra of jealousy? Fake my own death and flee to Peru?
"Well?" Rina demands, her voice dangerously low, snapping me out of my panicked trance. "Are you actually considering it?"
"He cannot be serious," Haruka mutters, her eyes narrowed, already analyzing Ichigo's motives. "Why would someone of his stature invite a handler to an industry dinner? It is illogical. Unless…" Her gaze sharpens as she looks at me. "Unless he perceives you as someone important."
"Rui-kun would not go, right?" Aiwa whispers, her voice small and laced with a heartbreaking vulnerability. She looks at me with wide, pleading eyes, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air: 'You would not leave me for him, would you?'
The pressure is immense. Rina looks ready to chain me to her booth. Haruka looks like she is about to perform a psychological autopsy on me. Aiwa looks like a kicked puppy made of starlight. And Kenji is still taking a nap on the floor, useless as ever.
"Look," I start, trying to stall, trying to think. "It is probably just a professional courtesy, right? He said I was calm under pressure. Maybe he wants handler tips?" It sounds pathetic even to my own ears.
"Handler tips," Rina repeats flatly, her disbelief palpable. "Yes, I am sure Ichigo, the internationally renowned cosplay superstar, desperately needs advice from a seventeen-year-old whose primary skill is preventing his sister from gluing her fingers together."
"His interest is… anomalous," Haruka agrees. "Which makes it strategically significant. We need data." She looks at me, a calculating glint in her eyes. "Perhaps… you should go, Rui-kun."
Rina and Aiwa both whip their heads around to stare at Haruka, utterly bewildered.
"What?!" Rina gasps. "Are you insane?! Send him into the lion's den?"
"It is a reconnaissance mission," Haruka explains coolly. "Rui-kun can gather intelligence on Ichigo's motives, his potential weaknesses, and," she adds, her voice dropping slightly, "his intentions regarding Rui-kun himself. Knowledge is power."
"Absolutely not!" Rina protests vehemently. "He is not going anywhere near that suspiciously charming blond!"
"But… Haruka-san has a point," Aiwa says hesitantly, surprising everyone. She looks at me, her expression a complex mixture of worry and determination. "Ichigo-san is… important. Understanding why he is interested in Rui-kun could be… valuable." Is she agreeing for strategic reasons? Or is she genuinely curious too? My brain hurts.
Now I am even more confused. Haruka wants me to go spy. Rina wants me chained to her side. Aiwa seems… conflicted?
"While you three debate my fate like I am a piece of contested war spoils," I interrupt, feeling a surge of annoyance, "the ten-minute deadline is rapidly approaching. And frankly," I add, looking pointedly at Rina and Haruka, "a dinner with a potentially weird but famous cosplayer sounds marginally less stressful than spending another evening being passive-aggressively fought over."
Ouch. Direct hit. Rina flinches. Haruka raises an eyebrow.
"Besides," I continue, seizing the initiative, "Haruka is right. It is a chance to gather intel. For the… uh… Grand Alliance." I am using their own ridiculous logic against them. "Consider me your spy. Your deeply uncomfortable, socially awkward spy."
Rina looks like she wants to argue, but she is trapped by her own competitive logic. Refusing to gather intel on a rival would be strategically foolish. Haruka just gives a small, satisfied smirk. Aiwa looks worried, but nods slowly.
"Fine," Rina grits out, her voice tight. "Go. Gather your 'intel.' But," she leans in close, her eyes blazing, "if he tries anything, anything at all, you activate the emergency beacon."
"What emergency beacon?"
"The one I slipped into your pocket while you were distracted," she whispers, before patting my side innocently. "Just press the little red button. Kenji and I will be there in five minutes. With reinforcements."
I reach into my pocket. My fingers close around a small, unfamiliar plastic device. She actually planted a tracker/panic button on me. My sister is insane.
"Okay," I sigh, resigned to my fate. "Wish me luck. Or send bail money."
I give Aiwa one last, uncertain look. She gives me a small, worried smile back. Then, taking a deep breath, I turn and walk towards the west exit, towards the impossibly cool Crimson Knight and a dinner that promises to be fifty shades of awkward. Behind me, I can feel the combined weight of three intense, suspicious, and possibly slightly murderous stares. My career as a harem protagonist is apparently entering its espionage phase.