Invitation to Temptation

Miyuu and Natsuki sat next to each other in the cafeteria, which was depressingly empty. Most students preferred to eat in the pocket lounges—luxurious, private, and off-limits to SEEDs, naturally. The cafeteria wasn’t exactly a prime destination unless you enjoyed fluorescent lighting and the buzz of malfunctioning air filters.

Miyuu, however, wasn’t paying attention to their less-than-ideal surroundings. Her focus was glued to her student device, plugged into her EchoDeck as she swiped and tapped furiously. She was attempting to disable the location tracking function, which was exactly as reckless and pointless as it sounded. Every so often, she glanced up, half-expecting Haruki to materialize out of thin air and scold her straight into her next life. Not exactly how she’d imagined kicking off her “isekai arc.”

Even if she managed to pull this off—and let’s face it, the odds weren’t great—it wouldn’t matter. The school’s security cameras and her wrist node synced to SOLON would still track her every move. SOLON was like a spider, and Harmonia was its web. There was no escaping it. Still, the thought of slipping through Haruki’s fingers, even for a second, was too tempting to resist.

Beside her, Natsuki was shifting nervously in her seat, fidgeting with her student device in that way that screamed I have something to say, but my anxiety won’t let me say it. Miyuu had noticed this becoming a trend lately. Despite her preference to be alone, she and Natsuki had fallen into an unspoken agreement to have lunch together. Miyuu wasn’t sure why she tolerated the arrangement. Maybe it was the silence—Natsuki didn’t talk much unless she had to. Usually.

Right now, though, Natsuki’s nervous energy was impossible to ignore. Miyuu sighed and set her EchoDeck aside. “Out with it. What’s got you so wired up?”

Natsuki jumped, her fingers tightening around her device like it might leap out of her hands. “Well, it’s just…” She trailed off, then tapped the screen nervously. A hologram blinked to life between them, projecting a low-budget spectacle that immediately set off Miyuu’s internal cringe alarms.

Two animated bots appeared, squaring off in a boxing ring. The red bot, wearing cartoonishly oversized boxing gloves, landed an uppercut, sending the green bot’s head rocketing into the air like a rock’em sock’em toy.

Miyuu stared, unimpressed. 

The scene abruptly cut to a flashy promotional screen complete with unnecessary explosions and text so poorly synced it was almost painful to watch.

“Are you sick of scraping by with no Lumina XP?” the red bot demanded, its voice crackling with bravado. “Tired of being at the bottom of the food chain while the high-level elites live like kings and queens? They laugh at you, ignore you, treat you like you don’t exist. Well, it’s time to change the game!”

The green bot, not to be outdone, piped in with equal fervour. “It’s time to FIGHT for what’s yours! Join the Circuit Pit and win Lumina XP!”

As if this couldn’t get any more ridiculous, the screen cut to a new animation. The red bot now held a sniper rifle, aiming at a cartoon student. With a single shot, the victim crumpled dramatically, with little stars spinning around their head.

The two bots cackled, and the scene ended with the tagline: “Remember: snitches get stitches.”

Finally, the screen settled on bold text:
Location will be sent at a later stage.
Beneath it two buttons blinked: Accept or Decline.

Miyuu stared at the hologram for a long moment, her eyebrow slowly rising. “So… bot fight spam. That’s new.”

Natsuki hesitated, then said quietly, “I think it’s legit.” She quickly glanced around. “I overheard some students talking about it. It’s mostly SEED students and low-Level 2s who got invites, but… no one wants to admit they received one. The tension is weird. People are afraid if word spreads too much, the council will shut it down.”

Miyuu mulled it over, watching the hologram’s pixelated bots loop through their janky animation. On the surface, this was right up her alley: shady, dangerous, and full of potential to make the council’s heads explode. But something didn’t sit right.

“Whoever’s organizing this has to be a better hacker than me,” she muttered, shaking her head almost immediately. “No, that’s not possible.” She tapped her EchoDeck absently, staring at the screen. “But how did they send this through SOLON’s network? It had to pass through directly to hit student devices.”

Miyuu didn’t usually bother checking her student device for notifications. Why would she? It was either spam about pointless campus events or equally pointless spam from the Council Manor group chat she’d been forcibly added to.

That group chat was chaos incarnate. Shion constantly spammed cat GIFs, which, in fairness, were the only redeeming content. Haruki dropped cryptic motivational quotes at ungodly hours. And Riku? He’d turned it into his personal meme dump, half of which weren’t even funny. She’d muted it within an hour of being added.

But now she was curious. She poked at her device, which was still plugged into her EchoDeck, and pulled up her messages.

Sure enough, there it was: the same flashy invite staring back at her.

Her eyebrow quirked even higher.

That’s when K.A.T.O. decided to make his grand entrance, materializing beside her in a burst of light. His holographic fox form flickered to life, startling Natsuki so badly she squealed and nearly dropped her device.

“It’s just K.A.T.O., relax,” Miyuu said with a shrug, barely glancing up. “He’s harmless. Mostly.”

Natsuki’s wide-eyed stare didn’t exactly scream reassured. “What’s a… K.A.T.O.?”

“Stands for Kinetically Adaptive Tactical Overseer,” Miyuu explained, her tone casual. “He’s basically my AI assistant. Although, let’s be honest, he does way less assisting and way more annoying commentary.” She rolled her eyes.

K.A.T.O. leapt onto Miyuu’s head. His tail swished as he peered down at her. “Annoying commentary? Me? I’ll have you know, I’m an unparalleled source of brilliance and wit. You’d be lost without me.”

Natsuki blinked, then giggled. “He’s kind of cute.”

“Finally, someone with taste,” K.A.T.O. said smugly. “I think I like her more than you.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in line,” Miyuu muttered, swatting at him half-heartedly. “Anyway, what’s your take on this?” She pointed toward the invite.

K.A.T.O. studied it for a moment, his tail flicking thoughtfully. “Well, it’s either an elaborate trap or the start of a very bad decision. So, business as usual for you.”

Miyuu snorted. “Helpful as always.”

“I do my best,” K.A.T.O. replied, preening.

“Risk analysis, please,” Miyuu muttered.

K.A.T.O. blinked out for half a second, then reappeared on the table in front of her. “Well…” he began, drawing it out just to annoy her.

He swiped a paw in the air, summoning a flowchart. “If the bot fights are discovered, the school might respond with sweeping punishments. However, expelling all participants would be impractical if attendance is widespread. They’ll most likely focus their attention on the organizers.”

“The reason the invitation went out today,” K.A.T.O. continued, “is probably because the student council is tied up with interviews for that marketing ad.”

“Oh, right,” Miyuu said, remembering. “The note Kaito left with my breakfast this morning said they wouldn’t be back until tonight.”

Her irritation flared as she thought about the rest of that note, which also said Kaito had programmed the kitchen’s robot arms to make her dinner at the exact time she was expected to be home. Tch! Control freak.

“Back to the bot fights,” K.A.T.O. said. “Besides the obvious risks—physical danger from rogue bots, sabotage, or, you know, getting caught—it’s technically manageable for you two to attend. The logistics will be tricky, of course.” His gaze flicked to Miyuu. “You do live in the student council manor, after all.”

Yeah, sharing a roof with the overlords is super convenient. If she went through with this, she’d have to accept the inevitable: she’d definitely get caught. 

Natsuki, who had been quiet until now, cautiously spoke up. “So… if we get caught, what happens?”

“A Reflective Mission is almost guaranteed,” K.A.T.O. replied without hesitation. “And don’t forget the hit to your XP.”

Miyuu frowned. The council had been grinding her into dust lately, so her XP was sitting at a safe-ish 60. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of dropping back to 50, but she could handle it. Probably. Any other student would be mortified to hit such a pathetic number, but for her? Par for the course.

Still, a tiny twist of guilt wormed its way into her stomach. She’d been skating on thin ice for weeks, and if she got caught— when she got caught—it was going to be a mess. The council was going to lose their collective minds if they found out. 

For a fleeting moment, she almost let that guilt linger. Almost. But then she shoved it down where it belonged, right next to the other inconvenient feelings she didn’t have time for.

They’ll get over it, she told herself, crossing her arms. Eventually. Probably before she died of old age. Maybe.

K.A.T.O tilted his head. “So, what’ll it be? Quiet night in with Kaito’s robot-cooked dinner? Or bot fights and a potential date with Frowl?”

Miyuu grimaced. The thought of spending even a second in VR with Frowl gave her nausea.

But…bot fights. 

The temptation was so strong.

She glanced at Natsuki, who was giving her best impression of a deer caught in headlights—managing to look both mildly terrified and kind of excited at the same time. Miyuu felt a grin tug at her lips despite herself. “Screw it,” she said with a shrug. “We’re going.”

K.A.T.O. gave a mock bow. “As you wish my lady. I’ll start prepping your eulogy.”

Miyuu rolled her eyes, then turned to Natsuki. “You’re sure about this? It could get… messy.”

Natsuki hesitated, biting her lip like she was trying to calculate the probability of survival. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded. “Yeah. I feel like… my life here’s been on pause until I met you. And now? Things are moving again.” 

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced away, clearly regretting the sudden burst of honesty. “You attract a lot of attention, which I really don’t love, but… I think if I stick with you, it might actually be fun.”

Miyuu blinked. For a second, she didn’t know what to say. Vulnerability like that always left her feeling awkward and vaguely itchy. “Fair enough,” she said finally, leaning back like she hadn’t been momentarily disarmed. “Just stick close to me, and if things go sideways, follow my lead.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” K.A.T.O. chimed.

Everything, Miyuu thought, but she kept that to herself.

Without further hesitation, the two SEEDs tapped Accept on the holographic invitation. The buttons blinked, confirming their choice.

There was no turning back now.