Just a bit more than three weeks had passed since the revelation of Yuriko’s child. She had not been able to peek into her circumstances, but the steady feedback assured her of the child’s continued survival. Confiding in her lovers had yielded some odd results. Gwendith didn’t seem to care, though there was an underlying jealous tone there somewhere. Heron…well…

“I wanted to give you a child,” he muttered right after she said it, and there was a sudden demented light behind his eyes. Their lovemaking afterwards had been vigorous to say the least, and though he hadn’t brought it up again, it was clear he wanted to impregnate her. Thankfully, it really wasn’t up to him, though he did his best to drown her in pleasure and lust. Admittedly, the idea suddenly made her feel hot and bothered, but not enough to lose control. She wasn’t about to give birth while in an active war zone and while they were nothing more than vagrants. Maybe when they settled back down, or when they managed to return to Rumiga.

Maybe.

And from the looks of it, it might take another Season before Milstate got ready to retake the outpost. She knew travel times between varied space stations took a while, but three weeks had already come and passed, and only a single convoy had arrived. For now, she and the crew of the Rascal were nothing more than glorified farm hands. About a tenth of the surface of the biome, roughly eighty thousand square longstrides, was cultivated. About a third of that was some kind of golden grain, not wheat, but a modified variant of it that was apparently the base ingredient of most of Dragon Fall City’s processed food. The rest of the area was divided into other crops that she didn’t have the time to learn about. There was also some hefty mining projects happening underneath the biome’s small mountains, but security was harsh. She wasn’t even able to get close enough to sneak in her perception without getting shooed away.

A couple of weeks ago, the Cyclops had apparently been repaired. The Darlington Cross escorted it back to whatever shipyard it came from, leaving the Rascal, and the newly arrived Voidships Intervention and Juggernaut and the original defenders as the only Voidspace navy remaining. Captain Finley and the Gold Flock didn’t even say goodbye.

Ilvara Erdmann had stayed as Stormdriven’s liaison but her ardour towards Heron had cooled a bit. She probably didn’t expect to be stationed in a Voidspace farm. As for Stormdriven, there was little to do other than hone their abilities. Twenty days meant that her Anima reach had increased by as many paces, and her progress towards completing her Colligia was slow but continuous.

As for her Ennoias, well, merging the two she already had was…difficult. She may have understated it before, but Radiant Flying Swords and Bladeless Sword were on opposite ends of the spectrum. It was easy enough to use her Flying Swords as the origin point of the Invisible Edge, but to truly merge them probably meant that a Flying Sword would emerge from the Edge, or perhaps the other way around too. Or perhaps she hadn’t thought of it deeply enough. Certainly, neither Ennoia were close to becoming a Colligia, so she might have to delve deeper into their mysteries before she could even hope to forge them into a singular truth.

In Astoria, her incarnation body remained quite busy. So much so that she barely had the time, during the day, to train. Instead, she snuck her training in the wee hours of the morning and deep into the night.

Three weeks of entertainment work. Mira-hi continued to give her photoshoots and even more commercials, not just for television, but also for radio, and print. Network too. Social media was a concept Yuriko didn’t know but Lilibeth was intimately familiar with. Or thought she did.

Lifebook was a relatively new site that gained traction just a couple of cycles ago. It allowed people to connect with distant friends, and using it was free, one just had to register and log in. Pixel Fairy had already made a celebrity account for Yuriko, and while it wasn’t her duty to be active in it, Yuriko nevertheless got hooked. Anyway, a lot of her photos wound up in Lifebook, not just from her account, but from what others have shared. A week ago, she had been given a contract allowing Pixel Fairy to sell the use of her photos. That gave her a hefty royalty of about a thousand Torries a cycle. Not too bad for something she’d already been paid for to begin with.

It was actually curious how much money they were throwing at her. Hm.

Last week, she’d also been asked to sing a jingle for a commercial after one of the scenes she shot in the afternoon drama involved her singing with a choir. Yuriko didn’t know how to sing, but it was easy enough to learn, and with her near-perfect control of her body, she could reach any note as long as she’d heard it before.

Unfortunately, the quality of her singing was only technically perfect. While many enjoyed it, Yuriko knew that there was a tier above. She only had to remember Abigail King’s violin recital during the fresher invitation. That hadn’t been quite perfect, but it stirred a resonance with the ambient energies. Oh well.

And now, she had a cup of coffee in hand, sitting in one of Pixel Fairy’s conference rooms, with Scarlett and Darrel, not quite believing what the agent just said.

“You want me to participate in a dating reality show?” Yuriko asked.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

She felt Scarlett’s reluctance, but her manager and assistant didn’t say anything.

“‘Love Blooms in the Strangest Places’ will begin shooting next week,” Darrel explained.

“Alright,” Yuriko hummed doubtfully, “A dating show? Are you expecting me to get together with someone?”

Darrel laughed. “If we want your fans to riot, sure. But no, ‘Luvblooms’ doesn't require you to, and even if Pixel Fairy asked you to, any kind of relationship that happens there would only be a business thing. It ain't real, but if you go with the flow, you're still expected to make a show of it. At least for a while.”

Yuriko giggled quietly at Scarlett's sigh of relief.

“So what kind of reality show is, er, ‘Luvblooms’? I mean, what happens there? I've only seen an episode once.”

Darrel shrugged. “It's in the title, really. The show’s shot in places that have an odd reputation, like an abandoned hotel in the middle of Route 66, or the old prison in the middle of the bay.”

Yuriko tilted her head. “Weird places, huh. Dangerous?”

“I don't think so. Just follow the safety guidelines? Ah, you'll mostly be exploring, or doing the games the producers come up with. And you'll be partnered with the boys, a different on each episode, though if you actually confirm a relationship…”

“How many actually wind up as lovers after the show? And are they all entertainers?”

“Not always. Not all famous either. New talent, or maybe those who are great in their field? That's rare since you’ll all be kids or young adults.”

Yuriko stared at Darrel hard. “How old?”

“Sixteen to twenty.”

“I guess that's fine.”

“Yeah, it's not as if you'd actually do something on camera,” Scarlett said.

Yuriko nodded. “Right… So, I guess I agree, but why are we doing this?”

Darrel chuckled. “Commercials, fashion shoots, and two-bit parts in soaps won't get you to where you wanna be. ‘Luvblooms’ is pretty famous and we'll hitch your star to theirs. Of course, they're the ones who approached us.” He smirked. “after finding out you're single.”

Yuriko shrugged. “Alright. So when's it happening, and where?”

“On Moonsday,” Darrel said. “The first meeting with the rest of the cast as well as the start of the first episode. You’re meeting in Grand Central Station, 10 o’clock in the morning. You’ll take ARtrack’s Cross-Continental Express. From there, the shoot location is a secret.” Darrel shrugged. “Three seasons and they’re still trying to be mysterious, but considering their success, why mess with the formula if it’s working?”

“I guess that makes sense. So who’re the rest of the cast, or are they contestants?”

“Cast, contestants, I don’t really see much of a distinction. It's not as if ‘Luvblooms’ has a prize or something. Just the experience, huh. Anyway, no, I don’t know who the rest of the cast are, but none of them are Pixel Fairy’s. Matter of fact, the show takes from different agencies, or sometimes, independents. So you’ll see them then.”

“No pre-shoot meetings?”

“Just contract signing. Which starts here.” He pushed a folder in her direction. “It’s been reviewed by the lawyers so all you have to do is make sure to remember all the stipulations.”

Yuriko did a quick review by utilising all of her available strands of consciousness. There was nothing nefarious in the contract, just standard non-disclosure agreements as well as cautions, penalties, and pay. “Twenty thousand per episode?” Yuriko asked. It was a bit low considering the show was quite popular.

“Twenty grand per filming day,” Darrel clarified. “That’s net of taxes and commissions.”

“Oh. Not so bad then.”

“Most of the cast members are relatively unknown, so they save money that way. Most of the budget goes to securing the location and all that. Each episode usually lasts for a couple of days, and a season’s about eight to twelve episodes, so three twenty to four eighty for the contract.

Yuriko nodded, and after she found nothing else of note, signed off on it. Scarlett signed as witness though she looked torn about it. As her manager, she got about ten percent of Yuriko’s earnings, and both of their lives were better after a couple of cycles. Yuriko wondered if she even needed to finish her college education considering she’d established herself as an entertainer. Now all she needed to do was invest to grow her funds and she’d have a reasonable explanation for her money.

It was incredibly easy for her to gain wealth, not just from employment, but also because she could just as easily look for precious stones and metals without going underground. She could retrieve them just as easily, but then, selling chunks of gold that came out of nowhere would probably alert authorities. She could also just as easily relieve villains of their ill-gotten wealth, but Lilibeth’s memories told her that the flow of money was monitored and any discrepancy was a chink in her armour.

A few days later, Yuriko found herself in Grand Central Station, unironically located in the middle of Winderfield. Scarlett wasn’t going with her as only the cast and crew were allowed to join.

“Take care of home for me,” Yuriko said with a grin. Scarlett nodded and melted into an embrace, though Yuriko quirked an eyebrow when she felt her friend’s hands linger over her bottom. She wiggled her hips invitingly, and as though she couldn’t help it, Scarlett ever so slightly, squeezed. She reddened enough to rival her hair before she let go, and this time, Yuriko didn’t hide her chuckles.

“I’ll miss you,” Scarlett said.

“It’s only for two days and a night,” Yuriko said. “You’ll pick me up tomorrow evening?”

“I will.”

Yuriko, carrying a backpack and a trolley, walked towards the train platform. She easily saw a bunch of cameramen filming and a small group of five young men and women. Surprisingly, she recognised two of the young men: Michael Stonereiz and the lead actor of the soap opera she was in, Zachary Russel. The third young man was just a bit taller than Yuriko, had orange hair and green eyes, and was wearing a rather casual set of clothes, just a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

As for the other two women, Yuriko recognised neither of them. Though one was blonde, slightly shorter than her, and the other had skin the colour of caramel, brown hair, and a voluptuous figure. All five of them gorgeous in their own way, and only the third man was standing apart from the others, looking a bit uncomfortable with the social talk.

Yuriko’s approach was noticed and soon enough, she had a cameraman aiming his tool at her face. She gave it a slight smile and walked towards the others. Michael’s and Zachary’s eyes lit up, while the third man gave her a long look. The women on the other hand, couldn’t quite hide the sudden look of hostility. She was sure the cameras caught their expressions. Yuriko’s smile widened. Looks like this would be fun.