Possession Protocol and Pillow Fights

In which I perform an exorcism with sarcasm, discover Belladonna's secret demon-kitten hybrid, and end the day locked in a room with all my fiancées. I should've stayed dead.

 WHY IS IT ALWAYS A TUESDAY?

You'd think demonic possession would come with ominous warning signs.

Lightning. Blood moons. Maybe a choir of crows spelling "RUN" in the sky.

Nope.

Just a suspiciously sunny Tuesday morning and a breakfast croissant that bit back.

I slapped the half-possessed pastry off my tray as Belladonna sprinted into the dorm common room, hair full mad-scientist frizz, wearing a robe covered in arcane sigils and... was that whipped cream?

"Kael!" she gasped, eyes wild. "I need you. Urgently."

"If this is about the cream golem in the fridge—"

"No! Well, yes, but also no! One of the possession wards I planted last night triggered."

"You planted—where? Why?!"

She looked mildly offended. "As a precaution."

"Against what?!"

"Unwanted spiritual guests. Like your fan club."

Touché.

 THE DEMON IN THE DUVET

We burst into Room 3B.

It looked like the inside of a discount Gothic novel. Black candles. Floating feathers. A suspicious stain shaped like a screaming skull.

And in the center of it: a very unconscious magical studies student floating six feet above the bed.

Oh.

Also:

A demon kitten.

"You summoned that?" I pointed at the small, bat-winged furball currently gnawing through a textbook titled Possession Protocols and You: A Beginner's Guide to Not Exploding.

Belladonna hissed. "It's not a demon! It's a felid-class summoning misfire!"

The kitten belched sparkles.

It then proceeded to vomit Latin.

"Right," I said. "Definitely not a demon."

 EXORCISM BY SNARK

"Get ready," Belladonna muttered. "We'll channel a double-bind inversion loop using the Hex-9 grid."

I nodded solemnly and said, "Or—and hear me out—we could insult it until it leaves out of sheer emotional damage."

"You can't snark a demon out of someone."

"Bet."

I stepped toward the floating student, who now had glowing eyes and was quoting early System source code backwards.

I cleared my throat.

"You call this a possession? I've had more terrifying existential breakdowns during tea time."

Nothing.

"You've got the aesthetics of a budget banshee and the voice of a cursed fax machine."

A ripple in the air.

"Still not impressed. I was born broken and I still function better than you. Your magic smells like wet socks. Your aura's cracked. And I'm not scared of you."

Pause.

"I am you."

Everything froze.

Then shattered.

The room exploded with light, static, feathers, and a smell I can only describe as "burnt ego."

The student dropped to the bed, groaning.

The kitten turned to dust.

Belladonna stared at me.

"You snarked a demon into existential crisis."

"Yeah." I exhaled. "That was new."

 THE HAREM COLLISION

Unfortunately, this feat of sarcastic demonology was immediately followed by a knock on the door.

Seraphina. Looking terrifyingly composed in a sparring corset and hair tied back like she'd just beheaded a metaphor.

"Kael," she said. "We need to talk. About the Saint."

"Mirielle?"

She stepped in, aura flaring.

"She's too perfect. It's suspicious. I suspect divine fraud."

"She literally is a saint—"

"Exactly. No one is that graceful unless they're hiding war crimes."

Moments later, Mirielle arrived.

And then Aureline.

And then Belladonna stepped forward, hair still sparking from demonic backlash, and said, "I think we need a conference."

I blinked.

"You want what now?"

 PILLOW WARFARE: PRELUDE TO APOCALYPSE

Enter: the Noble Counseling Room.

A.k.a. the world's most passive-aggressive chamber of forced diplomacy. A velvet-seated, chandelier-hung death trap of repressed feelings, romantic tension, and enough magical pressure to implode a pumpkin.

The goal: discuss Kael. Me.

The twist: the doors locked behind us.

"For privacy," the System chimed helpfully.

This was either therapy or a hostage situation.

First came silence.

Then Seraphina crossed her arms. "We need ground rules."

Belladonna snapped, "You first."

Mirielle exhaled, beatific. "We should listen to Kael's feelings."

Aureline stared at me. "Your aura... is flickering. Something happened in that exorcism. Tell us."

I opened my mouth.

A pillow hit my face.

Fluffernox had arrived.

It brought two feather bombs and a banner that read: LET THE WAR BEGIN.

 TRUTH, TEA, AND TENSION

"STOP!" I yelled, mid-pillow battle. "This is insane!"

Five sets of eyes turned to me.

"I didn't ask for any of this. Not the glitch powers. Not the prophecy. And definitely not a team of beautiful, terrifying women trying to solve me like I'm a puzzle with emotionally repressed trauma."

Pause.

I continued.

"But if we're going to survive whatever the System's doing, if I'm really the Echo or vessel or walking disaster—I need you. All of you. Not fighting. Not judging. Just... here."

Silence.

Mirielle stepped forward first. "I'll stay."

Then Seraphina. "Fine. But I get the left side in battle formations."

Belladonna rolled her eyes. "Dibs on experimental hugs."

Aureline said nothing. Just smiled, faintly. Watching me.

Then:

SYSTEM ALERT: Tribunal Scheduled. User: Kael Reinhardt.Report to Judgement Hall in 24 hours.

 THE LAST WORDS

No one spoke.

Not even Fluffernox.

Then Belladonna muttered, "That's... not standard."

Seraphina unsheathed her spoon-sword. "They're accelerating."

Aureline whispered, "They're scared."

Mirielle placed a hand on mine.

"I'll go with you."

"No," I said.

I looked at them — at all of them.

"This... I have to face alone."

Even if I was already cracking.

NEXT TIME, ON Yes, I Was Reborn. No, I Don't Want a Harem. Stop Looking at Me Like That:

Kael faces the System.

Courtroom drama. Avatars of judgment. Unfair accusations.

Fluffernox represents him as legal counsel. Yes, really.

And the System finally says the word: "Echo."

Stay unglitched. Or don't. That's kind of the point.