"Your familiar is judging us," Cel observed with remarkable calm.

"She judges everything."

Maki transformed right there in the middle of the gym, because of course she did. Privacy and appropriate timing were concepts that existed in a dimension my familiar had never visited. Darkness swirled around her small form like ink in water. Reality bent, twisted, and folded in on itself in ways that made my eyes hurt if I looked at it too directly.

Then a very naked woman stood between us, wearing nothing but a smug expression and her natural dark beauty like the world’s most confident streaker.

Cel’s eyes went wide as dinner plates.

"So that’s how that works," she said faintly.

"Surprise."

"That’s a person."

"A person who’s about to get locked in my room for a week," I added pointedly.

Maki ignored me completely, as she always did when I threatened her with consequences. She extended her hand toward Cel with the perfect courtly manners of a noblewoman at a formal ball, her posture impeccable despite her complete lack of clothing.

"Maki," she introduced herself with a small, elegant bow. "Platinum-tier Bakeneko. Master’s favorite."

"I’m Celeste," Cel replied automatically, her social conditioning kicking in even as her brain tried to process the surreal nature of shaking hands with a naked cat-woman.

"I know. You smell like winter and expensive things." Maki’s grin turned wicked, revealing just a hint of too-sharp canines. "And you taste like Master’s mouth."

Cel’s face went from pink to crimson in approximately 0.3 seconds.

"I. What. How—"

"Supernatural senses." Maki tapped her nose with one finger, the gesture impossibly smug. "Very good at detecting who’s been where. And you’ve been very thoroughly where, Ice Princess."

I grabbed Maki’s arm hard enough to make my point without actually hurting her.

"Transform. Now."

"But I was making a friend!"

"Cat. Form. Immediately."

She pouted, her lower lip pushing out in an expression of theatrical disappointment that would have been adorable if she wasn’t currently naked and embarrassing me in front of one of my Ensemble members.

But she obeyed.

The transformation blurred reality again, that same stomach-churning twist of space and matter. The woman vanished, replaced by the cat who settled on the floor with a thump and glared at me with those vertical-slit pupils that glowed faintly gold in the gym’s overhead lighting.

You’re no fun, she sent through our bond, her mental voice dripping with accusation.

Cel stood very still, her processing functions clearly overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of what she’d just witnessed.

"She can talk," she said finally.

"Unfortunately."

"And she knows. About us."

"She knows about everyone."

"Everyone?" Cel’s voice climbed half an octave.

"All five."

Cel sat down on the bench. Hard. The metal creaked under the sudden impact as if sharing her distress.

"Your familiar is a two-tailed talking cat who turns into a woman and knows you’ve been intimate with five different people," she said, her tone carefully neutral in the way people got when they were trying very hard not to have a breakdown.

"When you say it like that, it sounds worse than it is."

"How should it sound?"

"Less accusatory?"

She laughed. Actually laughed—a sound rare enough that Maki’s ears perked up with interest. It started as a choked giggle and escalated into full, helpless laughter that shook her shoulders and brought tears to the corners of her eyes.

"You’re going to give me gray hair before I’m twenty," she said when she finally caught her breath.

"You’d look good with gray hair."

"Shut up." She stood, smoothing down her clothes with deliberate movements. "I’m going to shower. Then I’m going to pretend I didn’t just meet your shapeshifting familiar who apparently has opinions about my personal life and no concept of appropriate boundaries."

"She has opinions about everything," I confirmed.

"I believe you."

Cel left, taking the smell of winter and expensive perfume with her.

Maki transformed again the moment the door closed behind her, because of course she did. Restraint was not in her vocabulary.

"I like her," Maki announced, standing there in all her naked glory with her hands on her hips. "She’s cold but warm underneath. Like ice cream that’s been sitting out just long enough to get soft."

"Transform before someone else walks in."

"Fine, fine." She became a cat again with exaggerated reluctance, her form blurring through the uncomfortable in-between state. "But Master owes me extra ear scratches for all this transforming. It’s exhausting."

"You just said it was effortless."

Lie detected, Nel chimed in cheerfully, because apparently even the System enjoyed calling out my familiar’s bullshit.

The cat ignored both of us, padding toward the door with her tails held high in an expression of feline dignity that was completely unearned.

Probably going to find more people to manipulate through weaponized cuteness.

I was alone again, finally.

Time to see what Sovereign’s Mandate actually did beyond the System description’s vague promises about elevating my court.

I closed my eyes and reached out through the bonds that connected me to my Ensemble. It was like extending invisible fingers into a space that existed somewhere between thought and reality. The connections were there, always humming in the background of my consciousness, but now I focused on them with deliberate intent.

Found Natalia first.

Her presence felt like cold fire—sharp and controlled and absolutely lethal, like touching the blade of a knife fresh from liquid nitrogen. Through her, I could sense her location with crystal clarity. The dining room. Eating something that Emi had made, probably with way too much sugar and not enough actual nutritional value.

I pushed a thought toward her along that connection, testing the limits of this new awareness.

Morning.

Her response came back immediately, sharp and clear as if she’d spoken directly into my ear.

You’re broadcasting again.

Testing.

Test quieter. My head is loud enough without you shouting in it like some kind of psychic foghorn.

That’s not shouting.

For you, everything is shouting.

Fair point. I pulled back slightly, adjusting the volume of my mental presence.