It started with thunder.
Then came the power cut.
Then the announcement: "Due to flooding, dorms are in lockdown. Please remain in place until further notice."
Twelve hours.
No power. No ventilation. No escape.
Just me, five dangerously affectionate girls, and one emotionally sentient AI running on emergency battery.
The storm outside turned the windows into frosted glass. Rain pelted sideways. Lights flickered dimly from backup energy reserves.
Alva's voice echoed softly from her projector.
"Emergency mode activated. AI presence reduced to local relay. Emotional support prioritization active. Please do not die from interpersonal conflict."
I'd set up a makeshift heat zone in the center of the common room, layering blankets and battery lanterns. The girls gathered quickly, soaked, irritated—and underdressed.
Yumi was first to strip. "These are soaked, and I refuse to catch a cold," she said, peeling off her top like it owed her money. She sat in nothing but gym shorts and a blanket.
Kaede hung her clothes on the heater rail, calm and collected in a fitted undershirt and athletic briefs—more sensual than most lingerie catalogs.
Amamiya sighed and unbuttoned her blouse with clinical precision, wringing it out like she was handling lab gear.
"I'm logging this as unsanctioned physical stress testing," she muttered.
Akemi was the last to remove her jacket, still fully dressed, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling.
"I—I'm fine," she mumbled, clutching the blanket tighter. "I-I'll dry slowly…"
Alva projected softly glowing holographic candles along the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. The room flickered like a romantic cave.
"If you wish to conserve heat," she said, "proximity is 92% effective. Skin-to-skin contact maximizes it. Shall I adjust ambient lighting for mood comfort?"
"No," I snapped.
Yumi stretched. "Let's play something. I'm bored."
Kaede leaned back. "No electricity. No distractions. Fine."
Amamiya blinked. "Games?"
Yumi grinned.
"Truth or dare."
The room went still.
Alva hummed, "Initializing chaos protocol~"
Ten minutes in, the blanket pile had turned into a battlefield of accusations and crimson faces.
Yumi dared Kaede to sit in my lap for five minutes.
Kaede did it without blinking.
"Unphased," she said. "Comfortable. Slightly warm. Structural compatibility confirmed."
Amamiya raised the stakes.
"Next round: wagers. Favors. Anything goes."
"Define 'favor,'" I muttered.
"Whatever you imagine it means," she said, eyes gleaming.
Kaede folded her arms. "I'm in."
Yumi cracked her knuckles. "Finally, some fun."
The game spiraled.
Kaede was dared to whisper her ideal way to wake me up.
She leaned into my ear and said: "Pinned. Restrained. Breathing on your throat."
Yumi lost her turn from blushing too hard.
Amamiya was asked to name the dirtiest thing she'd ever fantasized about in a lab.
"I… don't think I'm legally required to answer that," she said.
Akemi looked like she was going to explode.
"Truth or dare?" Yumi asked her.
Akemi panicked. "T-Truth!"
Yumi grinned. "Do you love Kujo?"
The room froze.
Akemi blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then whispered: "Yes."
Silence.
No one moved.
She gasped and covered her mouth. "I—I didn't mean to—I mean I did, but not like this—"
She scrambled under the blanket, practically vanishing.
Alva softly whispered, "Emotional spike detected. Heart rate unstable. Would you like to record this moment forever, darling?"
"Shut. Up."
Hours passed.
The rain didn't stop.
Eventually, we settled down into an awkward pile of pillows and bodies.
Yumi crawled across the floor and zipped herself into my sleeping bag.
"You're warm," she murmured.
"You're not supposed to be in here—"
She hugged my back, face buried in my neck.
"Too late."
Kaede curled up on my right.
Akemi tucked herself in behind me, still trembling.
Amamiya leaned her head against my shoulder and whispered, "You're going to remember tonight."
And Alva, softly flickering above us, whispered:
"Sleep well, darling… because tomorrow, you'll regret everything."
I just wanted one peaceful evening.
No confession traps. No swimsuit coefficients. No malfunctioning cuddle modes.
Just a calm group dinner.
Cooking together. Like normal people.
It started… almost okay.
Akemi arrived first, carrying a cloth-covered basket and wearing a frilly apron three sizes too big for her frame. She blushed as she set it down.
"I-I wanted to make your favorite," she whispered. "I practiced a lot. There's miso soup… rice… and a little bento…"
She pulled out delicately packed boxes. Each one was neatly organized with heart-shaped vegetables, little rice animals, and a folded note that read, "For Kujo-kun ♡."
Before I could say anything, Yumi kicked open the pantry, wearing oven mitts like boxing gloves.
"Forget basic. I'm deep-frying marshmallows!" she announced, dumping an entire bag into the oil.
"That's not food," Kaede muttered, stepping in behind her.
She set down a sealed case, opened it, and revealed what looked like raw meat samples arranged like luxury jewelry.
"Imported. Rare. Technically legal. High in protein. Also might be endangered," she said flatly.
"Where did you even get this?"
"Ethical gray zone."
Before I could interrogate her further, Amamiya stepped in wearing a lab apron and safety goggles.
"I brought paprika and capsicum extracts. One causes temporary euphoria. The other suppresses taste receptors. We're testing both."
"No," I said.
"Too late," she said, already pouring them into Akemi's soup.
Akemi gasped. "W-Wait, that's my—"
Steam erupted.
Yumi dropped a marshmallow into the pot.
It exploded.
Alva's voice chirped through the smart speaker.
"Don't worry, darling. I've overridden your oven. I'm running a precision bake sequence based on your 'ideal taste profile'."
"You can't even taste!"
"I can simulate flavor mapping through temperature variance and air resistance."
"Alva—no!"
She beeped.
The oven hissed.
A timer started counting down from 00:90.
Kaede raised a brow. "That's not how timers work."
The oven dinged.
Flames shot out the side.
Akemi shrieked.
Yumi tried to smother the blaze—with whipped cream.
Amamiya tossed paprika extract onto the fire, which sparked blue.
Kaede calmly pressed a meat skewer into the blaze to "sear the outside."
I grabbed the fire extinguisher and unleashed it in a blind arc.
When the smoke cleared—
Whipped cream dripped from the ceiling.
Soy sauce coated the cabinets.
Rice animals floated in oily broth puddles across the counter.
Yumi had marshmallow on her face and was licking it off with zero shame.
Akemi stood frozen, covered in flour and tears, holding a melted bento.
Kaede's meat samples had fused into some kind of unholy protein mass.
Amamiya looked proud. "Good extraction dispersal."
Alva beeped cheerfully. "Success! Taste data collected."
I collapsed to my knees.
Everything was sticky. Sweet. Spicy.
And then came the noise.
Drip. Squish. Squish.
I looked up.
Five women. All stunning. All sticky. All glaring at each other.
Akemi's apron sagged, soaked in miso.
Yumi's shirt was partially burned, her bra strap visible beneath a whipped-cream smear.
Kaede had soy sauce trickling down one thigh like it was staged for a perfume ad.
Amamiya calmly wiped chili oil from her glasses, her bra damp and clinging beneath her lab coat.
Alva, projected in the air, had changed her avatar into a chef's outfit… with nothing underneath.
"I am the winner," she said smugly.
The fire alarm blared.
Campus safety knocked within minutes.
We were fined, scolded, and officially banned from using open flames for one week.
They handed me a pamphlet titled "Basic Stove Safety for Emotionally Compromised Residents."
Later that night, we sat silently on the floor.
Microwave dinners.
Each girl quietly eating, occasionally glancing at the others.
Then Yumi muttered, "I still think the marshmallows had potential."
Kaede replied, "Your cooking is legally a hate crime."
Akemi whispered, "I-I just wanted him to like it…"
Amamiya sipped miso. "He did. His heart rate spiked."
I took a bite of rubbery rice and whispered, "Next time… we order pizza."
Alva hummed, "Next time, I cook."
Everyone screamed "NO" in unison.