Demonic Pornstar System novel Chapter 976

Chapter 976: Meeting, At Long Last

"The Shogunate Circle," Emily read, faint. "THE Shogunate Circle. Japan’s number one guild just sent me a boarding pass."

Twenty minutes was a strange amount of time for a foreign guild to produce three custom itineraries in the middle of the night. None of them examined it.

The itineraries themselves were short: a dawn flight for Emily and a dawn flight for Leia, both landing at the city’s international airport. Sarah, who lived a short ride from the airport, got a car at seven.

And nothing else.

"Mine ends at the airport," Emily said, scrolling. "There’s no second flight. Where’s the Japan part?"

"Same. One domestic hop and the itinerary just stops." Papers shuffled on Leia’s end; she had printed hers already. "How are we supposed to cross the ocean? Swim? Is Kaiden going to throw us?"

"Wait." Sarah sat up slowly, and the jar rolled off the bed unmourned. "He said ’my treat.’"

"...He did say that."

"The flights are from the Shogunate Circle. The car is from the Shogunate Circle. And that man looked us in the eye and called it his treat."

This silence belonged to three women arriving at the same summit together.

"He’s going to make the Shogunate pay for the sushi," Leia said, in the tone usually reserved for religious experiences. "He’s going to treat us to dinner with a straight face and a national guild’s credit line."

Emily gasped, genuinely scandalized. "He can’t do that!!"

Then she yelped, realizing that he, in fact, could do just that. "My idol is a freeloader."

"The most powerful man alive," Sarah said, "is about to expense us."

They were complaining at maximum volume, and all three were grinning so hard it hurt.

"Okay. OKAY." Leia clapped once, ringleader again. "Ladies, it’s time to lock the fuck in, because we have five hours and this is the most important operation this team has ever run. Agenda item one: what does a person wear to meet Kaiden Grey?"

Emily already had a search open. "I’m reading about bowing. There are angles. There are ANGLES, you guys. Fifteen degrees is casual and forty-five is an apology, and I don’t know the number for ’I’ve moderated your chat for months, please bless me with a headpat like what Alice gets...’"

"A gift." Sarah had a list going already. "You can’t show up to a dinner empty-handed, my mother would rise from her armchair and know. Do we bring one gift together or three separate-"

"Outfits first," Leia overruled. "Priorities. Everything I own says ’basement.’ I need clothes that say ’trustworthy, charming, invite me on the next trip too.’"

"Clothes don’t say that much," Emily objected.

"Mine will."

The call ran until three in the morning, produced no final decisions on any agenda item, and none of them would have traded a minute of it for sleep.

...

Emily was airborne by dawn, rehearsing thank-you phrases into her tray table and practicing a fifteen-degree bow against the seatbelt.

Leia spent her own flight discovering that a nondisclosure agreement, arranged thanks to Ms. Rook, which she had already technically violated through a ceiling, is a form of torture.

The grandmother next to her asked if she was traveling somewhere nice, and Leia, legally muzzled, said "yes" and then stared at the seatback for two hours, vibrating.

Sarah’s car arrived at seven sharp, a black sedan with a driver who knew her name. He took her suitcase, held her door, and said nothing at all for the whole ride. The radio stayed off. She watched her own city slide past on two hours of sleep and did not manage to swallow once.

They found each other at arrivals in under a minute. Emily came through at a jog, suitcase clattering behind her, waving with her whole free arm, and Leia’s laugh reached them across the concourse before Leia did.

The hug happened at full running speed and drew applause from a tour group.

"You’re real," Emily kept saying into the huddle. "You’re both real, you have arms, this is the best day of my-"

"Ladies."

The voice arrived from a pace away. A man in a black suit stood beside them, hands folded, a small silver pin of a threaded crescent on his lapel. None of them had seen him approach, and the concourse was not crowded.

"Sarah. Emily. Leia." He inclined his head to the three of them in turn, getting each name right without asking. "The Circle welcomes you. This way, please."

He led them past the departures signage without slowing for it, to a gray door at the edge of the concourse marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL, and held a badge to it until it clicked. Bare concrete and fluorescent tube light waited on the other side.

"Um," Emily said.

Two more suits fell in behind them at the threshold, silent, unintroduced, already in step.

The corridor ran flat for a while, then began to slope down. Pipe runs crowded the ceiling, painted lines striped the floor, and behind the walls something heavy thudded in a slow rhythm, like the building had a pulse.

Their escort took every turn from memory, hands loose at his sides. The lights ahead of them were always already on. The lights behind them kept clicking off.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify