The midday sun bares down on the cobbled plaza of the Alchemist Guild as Vuvi adjusts her goggles and flips her notebook open with a dramatic flair. Pip stands polished and gleaming on the presentation platform, surrounded by curious murmurs from judges and onlookers alike.
Three guild judges, an elderly gnome, a bored-looking elf, and a keen-eyed dryad woman with a clipboard, circle Pip like lions around an exotic bird.
"What's the primary power source?" the gnome asks, brows raised while tapping his monocle.
"I'm afraid that's proprietary information. Classified," Vuvi replies, crossing her arms.
"What's the function of this pelvic conduit?" the elf asks, brushing the end of her quill across Pip's hips. He trembles with a muffled beep.
"Classified," Vuvi repeats, grinning.
"Can he really pleasure multiple partners simultaneously?" the dwarven woman asks, more intrigued than skeptical.
Vuvi's eyes sparkle. "That, my friend, we would be happy to demonstrate."
Across the plaza, Raenly Mystbern scowls beside his elegant, chrome-inlaid pleasure chair. An elaborate piece of machinery with gold trim, aromatherapy channels, and far too many gears.
He hisses as the crowd around Pip grows thicker.
One of the male judges, a tall human with a pinched face, scratches his head. "Well, this all sounds great, but we'll need a practical demonstration. Some kind of test."
"I'll do it!" exclaims the drow judge, her eyes lighting up.
"Absolutely not," snaps the dryad judge beside her. "I called it first!"
The two women lock eyes, green sparks arching from the drow's eyes while thorny branches sprout from the dryad's arms.
"Oh please, my endurance is literally double yours," the drow says, already stepping forward.
"You nearly fainted during the wind-element runes last month!"
"I was drunk, Dagna!"
Vuvi raises her hands. "Ladies! Ladies. Good news. He can handle both of you. At once."
They blink.
Look at each other.
Then giggle.
"Fine," the drow says, cheeks pink .
"Fine," the dryad echoes, flowers blooming in her hair.
From the corner, Raenly gasps like he'd been shot. "What!?"
The two judges take Pip gently by each arm and lead him toward the secluded evaluation tent. Vuvi waves, calling out, "Don't overdo it, Pip! No fainting! We need them fully conscious!"
Pip gives a soft beep of affirmation.
Twenty minutes later, the tent flap opens.
The drow and half-dwarve emerge, straightening their robes and trying to act as if nothing had happened. Except for the slight wobble in their knees. And their dreamy, half-dazed smiles.
They return to the judges' bench, leaning into their fellow evaluators and whispering with enthusiasm. Giggles turn into gasps. Then hand gestures.
Wild, animated hand gestures.
The elf judge's eyes widen. "That long?"
The gnome chokes on his tea. "And it vibrates?!"
They huddle for barely a minute before returning to the platform.
The gnome clears his throat. "In consideration of technical achievement, craftsmanship, and... overwhelmingresults, the Alchemist Guild awards Vuvela Blackthorn' construct, The Pleasure Prince, a perfect score of 10 out of 10."
Cheers erupt across the crowd.
From behind his pleasure chair, Raenly stares in horror.
Then slowly turns to see the number posted beside his invention.
8.4
He drops to his knees.
"Nooooooo!" he screams at the sky. "Why!? Why does the cosmos torment me with the continued existence of Vuvela Blackthorn!?"
Mysa, his stunning older sister, kneels beside him. "You're still the best in my heart, little brother."
He sniffles. "I know."
"Though…" she glances at Pip, licking her lips slightly. "Can you make something like that? I'm curious. For, you know… research."
He looks at her, eyes wide with betrayal. "You promised not to touch it!"
"I never promised," she says sweetly. "You know I can't promise that… It's my thing."
Raenly howls louder.
Across the plaza, Vuvi saunters up with Penelo and Veena flanking her like smug, chaotic guardians.
Vuvi waves her perfect 10 scorecard in front of Raenly's tear-stained face.
"Looks like I made you cry again, Mystbern."
He growls something incoherent into the dirt.
"By the way," Veena adds, flashing a crude hand gesture. "Nice chair. Looks like a glorified cheese slicer."
Penelo mimics Vuvi's strut, pointing and giggling.
Pip bows politely.
Mysa eyes meet his gaze.
Then she slowly runs her tongue across her teeth and mouths wordlessly, "I'm going to break you."
Pip beeps in distress and scurries behind Vuvi like a child hiding behind their mother.
Raenly wipes his face, breathing heavily. His hands trembling.
"We'll figure it out," he mutters. "We'll figure out everything. If I have to break into Vuvi's lab, pick apart that golem bolt by bolt… I will find out how she cheated! It's the only thing that makes sense. She's… she's cheating!"
Mysa arches a brow. "That's criminal."
Raenly smiles sweetly. "Then you'll distract them."
Mysa pauses with a smirk. "By...?"
"You know what you do."
She sighs dreamily, watching Pip from afar. "Mmm. Okay."
As the group prepares to leave the campus, the attention barely lets up. Students swarm them. Faculty members wave papers. Guild staff yell over each other.
"Can we study the construct's source code!?"
"Does it use soul fusion, golem binding, or celestial grafting!?"
"Will you publish the design?!"
"This should be made public domain! For the good of society!"
Vuvi backs up, stunned by the wall of voices.
"I… I can't. I'm not sure… this is proprietary—"
Penelo tugs on her arm, trying to pull her away. Pip beeps loud and menacingly, shielding Vuvi with his body.
"Back up!" Veena barks, raising her sparks erupting from her horns.
Maribelle, still nursing a flask of spiced tea, calmly sets it down on a passing cart.
She clicks her fingers.
BOOM!~
A concussive soundwave bursts out across the crowd, rattling scrolls and silencing mouths. Every student, professor, and alchemist stumbles backward.
Maribelle steps forward, calm and terrifying.
"Thank you for your enthusiasm," she says smoothly. "But my daughter and her team have somewhere to be. Arrangements can be made. In private. Farewell."
Nobody dares argue.
She turns, motions with a single finger, and the group follows her like ducklings.
As they round a quiet stone corner, Penelo exhales.
"Did we always attract this much attention?"
Veena rolls her neck. "I have a feeling things are only getting started."
Vuvi groans. "You'd think the world had never seen a divine sexbot before."
Maribelle snorts. "They haven't. Not like him."
Just as she says it. An ethereal voice echoes across the cobbled street.
"Lady Vuvela Blackthorn!"
The team freezes.
Down the road, marching like a divine parade, approaches a troop of armored knights, shields polished, royal banners fluttering.
And at their head: Lihona, the Saint-Sister of the Church, glowing in the morning light like a holy flame.
Her transparent robes shimmer in the sun.
"Oh no," Veena mutters.
"Oh gods," Vuvi sighs.
Penelo whispers, "Is she naked again?"
Maribelle arches a brow. "You made a church girl that devoted?"
Pip's eyes flicker as he beeps sheepishly.