Harem Apocalypse: Every Moan Levels Us Up!

I watched myself in the mirror pulling on the black CGI t-shirt. Clean fabric slid over my shoulders and chest, the material still carrying the faint chemical scent of sterilization. The face looking back at me was the same, same jaw, same eyes, but the person behind them wasn’t. Something older and heavier stared out now.

I went downstairs.

The CGI building was already alive, people moving through the corridors with sharp, purposeful strides, the efficiency of an organization that didn’t pause for returning missions. Through the glass doors at the exit I caught a glimpse of Harmione, Mercury, Sinn, and Code heading out. They didn’t see me. They walked close together, shoulders brushing, carrying the plain on their clothes and something permanently altered in the way they moved.

"Bram."

I slowed. Ernesto caught up, blue hair as messy as I remembered, energy crackling off him like he’d been waiting to unload.

"I’m Nesto," he said, grinning wide. "You remember me?"

"Yeah," I said, which was only partially true.

"Good to have you back, bro." He fell into step beside me. "Sherry’s told us everything about you."

That explained the first-name treatment.

He led me into a side room. Chairs arranged in a loose circle. Max Donman, Rebecca, Danny Sterling, and Sherry already waiting.

Sherry wasn’t herself. I saw it the second I walked in, the slight tension in her shoulders, the way she sat too straight, something guarded in her posture that hadn’t been there on the plain. Then she turned, saw me, and the full smile broke across her face like sunlight cracking through clouds.

"Guys, Bram’s here."

Max’s eyes flicked over. Quick. Controlled. But not controlled enough. He stood and extended his hand. Fresh cut on the sides, same blonde hair, broader than I remembered from the gate.

"Good to have you back," he said, grip firm. "I owe you everything for keeping my Sherry safe."

My Sherry.

I tapped his shoulder once and said nothing that needed saying.

Danny shook my hand with a flat, unreadable expression, eyes steady. Rebecca stood and pulled me into a hug, deep, unhesitating, arms wrapping tight around my back like she already knew me.

"Welcome back," she said against my shoulder, voice warm.

I settled into the circle between Sherry and Ernesto. Sherry’s hand found mine under the armrest. One quick squeeze. Warm fingers, brief pressure. Then released.

The door opened. Bala entered.

He moved with the same measured authority I remembered, coat settling around his shoulders with a crisp snap as he stopped at the head of the circle. His eyes swept over us — slow, deliberate — lingering a fraction longer on me, the weight of that gaze pressing like a physical hand against my chest. The room went dead still, the faint hum of the air system suddenly loud in the silence.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," we replied, voices overlapping in a low, uneven chorus.

"I want to congratulate Abram and Sherry on the successful mission," Bala said, standing perfectly motionless, the way he always did, like the entire room had been arranged around him. "The walls sent you and you delivered. The walls will remember."

The walls will remember. The words landed heavy, the specific consolation of institutions that take everything and hand back a polished sentence.

"General Sinn informed me of your contribution to the mission’s success," Bala continued. "He asked me to thank you personally. Especially Abram."

He looked straight at me. He didn’t thank anyone.

"Great work is always rewarded. Sherry, Abram, you are now citizens of the walls. You are officially drafted into CGI."

He said it like he expected gratitude. Sherry’s face shifted, a quick flash of something bright and aching behind her eyes, lips parting slightly, shoulders rising with a sharp inhale. This had been the dream. Citizenship. Belonging. A place that was hers by right instead of by survival. I caught the micro-expression and said nothing.

"That mission is complete," Bala went on. "But CGI doesn’t rest."

Sherry raised her hand, fingers steady but the tendons in her wrist tight.

Bala’s expression barely changed, a tiny tightening at the corner of his eye, the patience of a man who had run thousands of briefings.

"Yes, Sherry."

"No more school?"

"You went to school to develop. I believe you’re ready now."

She nodded once, quick and sharp. I thought about School Central. About Azure and Daphne and Sophia Vale in her oval office. About the work waiting there that had nothing to do with Bala’s missions.

"There are families who lost children on this mission," Bala said. "Conservative families. I want them handled before anyone can use the grief against us." His gaze moved across the circle, cold and efficient. "Abram and Rebecca, you’ll visit Speed’s family. Sherry and Ernesto, Oddo’s family. Move quickly."

"Yes sir," Rebecca and Ernesto said in unison.

"You two," he said, eyes settling on me and Sherry, "have three days. Rest. CGI will facilitate whatever you need. After that, the work continues."

He turned on his heel and walked out. The woman at the doorway snapped a crisp salute as he passed.

"Abram. Sherry." She looked at us. "I’ll show you to your apartments."

I stood. The chair scraped back against the floor. Sherry stood beside me in the same motion, shoulder brushing mine.

"You don’t need an apartment," Max said to Sherry, voice polite and even, smile fixed while his eyes did something tighter, something that didn’t match the smile. "She’s taken care of," he told the woman.

"I’ll need my own," Sherry said, voice calm but firm, and followed me and the woman out of the room.

****

We walked down the long corridor, footsteps echoing off polished floors. Sherry stayed close, her shoulder brushing mine with every step, the white skirt whispering against her legs. The woman in front moved with crisp efficiency, tablet glowing in her hand as she pulled up access codes.

I felt the walls closing around me again, familiar, heavy, and now carrying an entirely different purpose.

Three days. Then the real work began.