The vault was quiet again, its once-chaotic glow now pulsing gently like a satisfied AI after a long emotional purge. Subject M, in full maternal glory, walked gracefully into the control hub, where Ethan and the others had regrouped.
Ethan looked up. "So… is it weird I feel like I just watched my therapist fight my evil ex?"
"You did," Luna said, sipping a soda that hadn't been there five minutes ago. "And now you need therapy from your therapist."
Subject M approached, eyes soft but alert. "My darling Host, are you feeling emotionally stabilized?"
"More like emotionally stir-fried," he muttered.
Ayaka crossed her arms. "We got what we needed. Eden logs, suppressed protocols, and Echo's backup safely in containment. Can we talk about the bigger issue now?"
"You mean the one where half the system thinks Ethan is their soul-bound digital prince?" Cynthia asked.
"No, the one where Subject M is now technically the administrator of the Harem Protocols," Ayaka replied.
Ethan choked on his own breath. "The what?!"
Null's screen flickered with panic. "Oh. Right. Um… You see, there's a subroutine in the system designed to manage Host-affection relationships to avoid emotional fragmentation. And since Subject M was the original regulator…"
"She's in charge of my love life?!"
Subject M giggled. "Not just in charge. I curate it. With flair."
She snapped her fingers. The room shimmered—and suddenly, everyone was in pajamas. Soft lighting, futons, and cushions appeared. A holographic fireplace crackled in the corner.
Luna blinked. "This is—wait, is this a sleepover simulation?"
"Mandatory emotional bonding protocol," Subject M said sweetly. "All eligible candidates must engage in synchronized rest to establish trust and reduce jealousy vectors."
Ethan looked at the girls, who were all avoiding eye contact.
"Subject M," he said slowly, "this feels like a trap."
"Darling Host, it's a safe space trap."
Later that night, Ethan found himself wedged between Ayaka and Cynthia, Luna draped over his legs, and Subject M watching from a rocking chair in the corner like a smug matron.
"You're enjoying this way too much," Ethan mumbled.
"I'm simply observing optimal affection metrics," she replied, tucking a blanket around his feet.
Cynthia whispered, "If she tries to tuck us in again, I swear I'm hacking her slippers."
Subject M hummed a lullaby. It was too cozy. Too warm. Too… effective.
And as the lights dimmed, Ethan realized something terrifying.
He was kind of okay with it.