It began, as most catastrophes in Rei’s life did, with an ominous ding.
He was sipping lukewarm tea, hiding in a laundry basket, trying to escape yet another "shared breakfast cuddle proposal" session from Lucivella. The last ti she’d made him toast, it had his face toasted onto it. Not drawn but burnt into the bread with shading.
The ding was followed by a glowing system window that hovered in front of him like a smug waiter at a disaster buffet.
[System Notification: Congratulove-tions! Emotional Pressure Level has reached 999999 ! Initiating SYSTEM EVOLUTION.]
[Updating core personality... complete.]
[System Personality Mode Unlocked: Passive-Aggressive Sarcastic Romantic Guidance AI 3.0]
"Oh no," Rei whispered, sinking lower under the pile of embroidered underthings.
[System: Oh yes, sweetheart. You’ve ignored every warning, dodged seventeen marriage proposals, and faked your own death twice but it’s okay. We’re not mad just disappointed.]
Another window popped up with a theatrical sparkle.
[New Mission: Survival Marriage Protocol Engaged!]
[Dear Rei, you have exactly 0.0013 seconds of emotional stability left. As such, the System humbly (and sarcastically) presents your only three options:]
1. [Marry all five girls simultaneously and let fate (and possible homicide) sort it out.]
2. [Flee to the Abyssal Wastes and live as a mushroom hermit. Survival chance: 1.8%. Death by sliwolf: 86%. Death by loneliness: 12%.]
3. [Do absolutely nothing. Let your next sneeze trigger a cosmic engagent. We’ll let the stars choose your bride. Good luck sneezing near the Demon Queen.]
Rei stared. Blinked, then slowly whispered:
"...I choose option four. Hide and cry."
[System: That was not on the nu, but we’ll allow it. For cody.]
anwhile, outside Rei’s temporary hiding hut made of laundry and failed dreams, the five yandere queens of his life were in the middle of another Treaty of Emotional Destruction.
Lucivella was currently drawing wedding diagrams in blood-red lipstick across the marble floor.
Rosette had set up tactical bear traps around the corridors labeled "Rival Bait."
Lilia was sewing "Rei Ever After" into a five-ter wedding veil.
Drakana had begun forging a molten wedding ring inside the duchy’s fireplace.
And Seraphina—bless her sun-obsessed, perfectionist heart—was hiring a royal choir to scream Rei’s na in harmony during "vow hour."
Each girl was convinced the others were rely "supporting characters."
Each was also aware the System had gone full reality TV producer.
And so, during a temporary truce (enforced via magical duct tape and breakfast bribes), they stord into Rei’s room to deliver an ultimatum.
They kicked open the door together, striking synchronized poses.
Rei, mid-sip of tea while hiding under the desk this ti, choked.
Lucivella’s eyes glead. "Rei You have three choices. Just like the System said."
Rosette smiled sweetly. "We can share you for now."
Seraphina lifted a scroll. "Or we can conduct a series of moral, fair, gladiator-style bridal battles."
Drakana flexed. "Or I lick you again and claim blood pact rights. Old rules apply."
Lilia held up a wooden coffin. "Or I take you ho in this."
Rei slowly slid under the table.
[System Notification: Would you like to install "Courage.exe"? (Recomnded for escaping won with swords.)]
"I’d like to uninstall life," Rei whispered.
Later that night, Rei called an ergency strategy eting with the only rational being left in his life: a mop with googly eyes he’d nad Sir Mopsworth.
"I can’t marry them all. I’ll die."
Sir Mopsworth stared silently, supportive and judging.
"I can’t flee to the Abyssal Wastes. I’m allergic to mushrooms and the cold."
Sir Mopsworth said nothing.
"And if I sneeze near Lucivella, she might tattoo ’YES’ on my face."
The mop remained quiet.
Rei sighed. "Sir Mopsworth, I’m dood."
[System: Correction: You’re dramatically dood. It’s funnier that way.]
[System Suggestion: Why not try being honest? You know, like a protagonist with emotional maturity?]
"...You’re not funny."
[System: Neither is your survival chance.]
By the ti the next morning rolled around, the palace was bustling with pre-wedding chaos. Florists were fighting blacksmiths. The temple bells had already rung twice by accident. And five separate wedding cakes were being stored in the royal vault under heavy magical guard.
Each cake was exactly the sa height as Rei. Coincidence? Doubtful.
Rei had tried to hide in one.
Now he had frosting in places that would traumatize frosting forever.
He stumbled into the throne room, frosting-coated, slipper-wearing, and emotionally unstable.
And that’s when it happened.
He sneezed and ti stopped.
A soft breeze fluttered through the stained-glass windows. The girls froze in unison, eyes wide. The System humd.
[System Alert: SNEEZE DETECTED. DESTINY CHOICE ENGAGED.]
[Analyzing proximity of all potential fiancées... calculating fate vectors... triangulating absurdity...]
[Congratulations! Based on sneeze trajectory, cosmic pollen flow, and emotional desperation—REI IS NOW LEGALLY MARRIED TO HIS BED.]
There was a mont of stunned silence then Eris appeared in a puff of glitter and chaos wearing a tuxedo.
"CONGRATULATIONS!" she shouted, tossing flower petals and jellybeans. "You’re now spiritually bound to your nap zone! I now pronounce you husband and furniture!"
Rei stared at her, broken.
"I sneezed. Why would you make marry a bed?!"
Eris shrugged. "System says fate demands comfort."
The five girls all turned, slowly, ominously.
Lucivella: "You married... a bed?"
Seraphina: "Is that your way of rejecting all of us?"
Rosette: "Should I be jealous of the pillow?"
Drakana: "I can duel the blanket."
Lilia: "Do I need to burn the mattress?"
Rei whimpered.
[System: On the bright side, your bed won’t stab you. Probably.]
[New Mission Unlocked: Cuddle All Wives Before Midnight or Trigger Cold Shoulder Apocalypse.]
Eris began selling popcorn from a floating stall labeled "Wedding Panic LIVE."
"I love this show," she whispered, recording everything with her divine phone.
That night, Rei was buried under five passive-aggressively applied blankets. One from each girl. Each one embroidered with possessive love notes, magical runes, or ominous threats.
The System humd cheerfully. Rei had never felt so betrayed by inanimate objects in his life.
And that was saying sothing, considering his history with possessed brooms, cursed doorknobs, and one ti his own cloak tried to strangle him because it was "jealous of his towel."
But this—this was peak betrayal.
Because after a system-generated sneeze-marriage to his bed, not only had the world declared him romantically entangled with his furniture, but said bed was now apparently sentient and clingy, very clingy.
"Good morning, husband," a smooth, velvety voice whispered the next day as Rei blinked awake, limbs still wrapped in comforters that held too much emotional warmth.
He yelped. "No. Nope. No voices. Furniture doesn’t talk—!"
[System Notification: Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new intimacy level with your soulbound nap partner: Whispered Sweet Nothings & Sleep Paralysis Love Confessions!]
[Bed: "You toss and turn like a lover burdened with too many fiancées. Let carry your pain. Forever. Gently."]
Rei scread into the nearest pillow.
"SHUT UP, FLUFFFACE!"
The bed purred. The five girls standing in the doorway, arms crossed, did not.
Lucivella’s eyes glead with the rage of a thousand passive-aggressive sonnets. "So. You’ve progressed to pillow talk now?"
Drakana cracked her knuckles. "At least fight fairly, you coward. No hiding behind... dostics."
Rosette held up a clipboard titled Bed Removal Plans, Phase 1: Acid Hugs.
Seraphina summoned a holy exorcism hamr. "I knew this bed was evil."
Lilia, disturbingly calm, was holding a pair of scissors and chanting a love hex over a very specific patch of mattress fluff.
Rei backed up against the headboard.
[System: Fun Fact! Over 67% of romantic deaths in the empire are now linked to "bed-related emotional warfare." You’re a trendsetter, Rei.]
Desperate, Rei turned to his only backup plan.
He dove under the bed.
"Sir Mopsworth, initiate Plan M!" he shouted.
The mop, now fitted with a bowtie and sunglasses, didn’t respond.
Because it had been replaced. By a small shrine to the bed with candles and frad pictures and a tiny banner that read "Nap Lord & Lady Forever."
Rei paled. "I didn’t build this."
[System: You did. In your sleep. It was disturbingly sincere.]
A loud crash echoed above as Seraphina ripped the ceiling open with divine light. "Enough stalling, Rei! You must choose: us or your cursed bed!"
Eris popped back in, sipping sparkling water out of a mug shaped like a broken engagent ring.
"Plot twist! Why not both?" she chirped. "We’re now accepting proposals for a Group Marriage Battle Royale next Chapter! Winner gets Rei’s other leg!"
Rei screeched, "I NEED BOTH LEGS TO RUN AWAY!"
Eris held up a chalkboard labeled "Leg Ownership Draft."
Drakana was already sharpening her claws.
Rosette was asuring thigh circumference for symbolic leg-binding ceremonies.
Lucivella muttered sothing about knee vows.
Lilia wrote "Left Ankle Snuggle Rights" into her planner.
Seraphina just whispered, "No one touches his knees but ."
Rei flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling in exhausted defeat.
The bed sighed lovingly beneath him.
[Bed: "You rest on like a man who knows no peace. Let be your peace."]
Rei sobbed.
[System Notification: New Quest Unlocked! Escape Romance by Ascending to a Higher Plane of Sleep.]
[Warning: Plane currently booked by insomniac gods. Try again later.]
The girls moved in, bridal auras glowing, weapons polished, veils fluttering in the magical wind.
Eris threw popcorn into the air. "Ooooh, here cos the chaos!"
[System: We recomnd hiding under the bed again. Not for survival—just for codic symtry.]
Rei clutched his pillow, whispered an apology to his future ghost, and scread:
"GOODNIGHT, CRUEL WORLD!"
The bed hugged him back.
The curtain falls—until Chapter 77, where romance ets war cris.
To be continued...
Author’s Note:
Dear beloved readers, you’re laughing, you’re gasping, you’re watching poor Rei spiral into a blanket-bound emotional void... but where are the Power Stones?!
Are you enjoying this chaos for free? Are you sipping tea while Rei suffers, silently nodding, "Ah yes, that’s peak cody," and then just leaving?
We see you. We love you. But also—give us stones or Eris will personally deliver five wedding invitations to your house next. And no, you don’t get to choose the bride.
—Your emotionally unstable author with frosting trauma
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