Harem Online: My Party Is Full of Beautiful Celebrities

Martin slowly turned toward her. "How much research?"

"An embarrassing amount."

"And?"

"Most of the history was miserable. Women were traded around for alliances, peace, heirs, and status. There wasn’t much romance to find."

"That’s history."

"Fiction somehow annoyed me more."

Alexandra began counting on her fingers while Martin watched.

"Some stories made every woman fall in love with the protagonist, then picked one at the end. The rest smiled through their heartbreak, pretended they had always known, and slowly disappeared from the story."

Martin grimaced. "That’s rough."

"Other stories kept introducing new women until the older heroines became furniture."

"That might be worse."

"It was insulting."

She raised another finger.

"Then there were stories using aphrodisiacs, demonic pollen, lust curses, or medicinal pills and calling the result romance."

The irritation returned to her face.

"Some of it was rape with fantasy decoration."

Martin stared at her. She looked genuinely angry now, far more offended by what she had read than he had expected.

"You really did take this seriously."

"I told you I wasn’t joking."

"So what convinced you it was a good idea?"

"Almost nothing."

Martin’s expression went blank. "Fantastic."

"Then I found one novel."

"No."

"Yes."

"I already hate where this is going."

A faint smile touched Alexandra’s lips, though there was no mockery in it now.

"It was called Harem Online: I Love Them So Much I Couldn’t Choose One, So I Took Them All!"

Martin closed his eyes. "Who approved that title?"

"I wondered the same thing."

"It sounds like a scam advertisement."

"It does."

"And you read it anyway."

"I was curious."

He opened his eyes again. "How bad was it?"

"The protagonist was a worn-out office worker whose life had become so empty that fighting monsters in an immersive game felt easier than talking to women."

Martin stared at her, and Alexandra calmly stared back.

"You read a story about me."

"Not literally. The protagonist was slightly less irritating."

"Thanks."

"Slightly."

"Now you’re being cruel again."

She nudged his leg with her foot. "The similarities were difficult to ignore."

Her voice softened as she continued.

"He met several women inside the game. They had different careers, different lives, and different reasons for hiding parts of themselves. Some competed, some became jealous, and a few clashed before learning how to work together."

Martin thought about their party. "That sounds familiar."

"It became more familiar the longer I read."

"What made it different from the stories you hated?"

"The women stayed people."

Alexandra uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs.

"They had ambitions that had nothing to do with the protagonist. They became friends, fought with one another, and built relationships that didn’t revolve around him. Nobody got shoved into storage when the next beautiful woman showed up."

"That already puts it above a lot of romances."

"He made plenty of mistakes too, especially whenever the women fought." Alexandra glanced at him. "Instead of letting them tear into each other, he kept putting himself in the middle. He let them vent at him, took the blame whenever someone needed to, and tried to make sure nobody walked away feeling less important."

Martin stared at her.

"That was the part that reminded you of me."

"Very much."

He looked away, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

"The protagonist didn’t magically know how to handle everyone," Alexandra continued. "Half the time, he made things worse before he made them better."

"That part sounds familiar too."

"It does."

"Glad you’re enjoying this."

"I enjoyed watching him struggle because he kept trying anyway. He could have picked the easiest woman, rejected the rest, and called the problem solved. Instead, he kept asking what each of them wanted."

"And all of them wanted him?"

"It was a harem novel, Martin."

"Right. Stupid question."

"He didn’t expect them to abandon their careers or shrink their lives around him. The women could leave for work or family without vanishing from the story."

"Your standards were destroyed by the earlier books."

"Completely."

"So the masterpiece won by remembering its own characters."

"And by letting them matter to each other."

Alexandra turned toward him again.

"The women fought, but they also protected one another. Sometimes they spent entire Chapters together without the protagonist around. By the time the relationships became serious, they were already a group."

Martin glanced toward the Light Tree, where guild members moved between the roots.

"Our party isn’t exactly there."

"No, but it has the same beginning."

"Four women hiding their identities around one exhausted man?"

"That too."

"You brought us together before you knew who any of us were," Alexandra said. "Elisebeth found a place where she could fail. Cassandra rediscovered something work had taken from her. Katherine joined because of me, but you made her care about the party. You gave me a rival who never treated me like glass."

"That sounds convenient for your argument."

"It’s also true."

Martin rubbed his thumb against his palm. "What happened when the women got jealous?"

"They argued, made mistakes, and learned to handle it better."

"That simple?"

"Not at all. That was why I liked it."

The novel had not given Alexandra an easy fantasy. It had shown her the same problems Martin feared and refused to pretend they didn’t matter.

"So you read one decent NovelFire and decided to test the premise on me."

"When you say it that way, it sounds less intelligent."

"Because it is."

"The novel gave me a picture of what might work. It didn’t make the decision for me."

"What did?"

"You."

Martin’s smile faded.

"I kept thinking about you while I read," Alexandra said. "Every time he stepped between the women, took the argument onto himself, or tried to make everyone happy until he looked exhausted, I saw you."

"You shouldn’t admire that part."

"I don’t admire the self-destruction. I admire that you care enough to try. He kept choosing the harder conversation instead of walking away, even when he knew everyone would blame him for part of it. Watching him struggle made the effort feel more honest."

Martin was quiet before asking once more, "So that really was the part that reminded you of me."

Alexandra’s expression softened.

"Very much."