The holographic confirmation flashes:
The relief hits me hard, chased by guilt. “So this won’t come out of my pay?”
“Of course not,” Lira says. "It's an investment. Tribune Jin Kol controls IGC policy toward human affairs. Get his attention, and you might actually make a difference. And let’s not forget this is the one man the Sovereigns want you tomake happy."
I can’t argue with that.
"Jewelry?" Lira asks, already pulling up new displays. "You'll need something to complement the dress. And to ensure your ID tag is visible."
"I'm broke, remember?"
"Message Sovereign Lorian. Tell him you need additional credits for... supplies. Don't specify what. He'll be curious, but he won't push. Ask for two-thousand.”
“Two-thousand?! I’ll never be able to pay that back.”
“And you’ll never have to. Men across the galaxy don’t blink twice at buying women jewelry, even their employees.”
I hesitate, then open a secure message:
Sovereign Lorian, I require additional credits for essential supplies. 2000 should cover it. -Eve
His response is almost instant:
Of course. Transferring now. Though I'm curious what supplies require such specific funding. -Sovereign Lorian
Personal items for the Championships. You are most generous. Thank you. -Eve
My sweet human heretic, always plotting something.
The funds appear in my account immediately. Which is good because Lira has already designed a piece ofjewelry I must pay for.
"Here, let me show you how this works." Lira holds up my standard ID necklace, the utilitarian necklace all staff must wear. "The tag has a magnetic core. Watch."
She brings it close to the silver necklace, and the tag clicks into place, disappearing into an ornate centerpiece that looks like it was always meant to be there. What was once a mark of employment becomes a jewel at my throat.
"The necklace also monitors your vitals and location, just like your regular ID, but now it looks like you chose to wear it rather than being required to. We will put the pin Sovereign Rafe gave you in a bracelet the same way."
I watch as Lira produces a bracelet that Rafe’s pin pops into as if it was always meant to be there and then slips it onto my wrist.
"Now for the real transformation," Lira says, leading me to a private preparation suite. "Have you ever used a cosmetic programming station?"
“Of course not.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat then. It’s expensive, so only the wealthy have access to it. Sit down,” she says, motioning to a seat.
In front of me, a mirror scans my face and projects different looks in real-time. Lira works the controls, starting conservatively, then gradually pushing the makeup further.
"No, more dramatic," I tell her. "If I'm playing this game, I'm playing to win."
She adjusts the parameters for a more enhanced look. “If you go this far, you’ll be wading into Reima Two-wife material,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember what I said before about the Sovereigns?”
“How could I ever forget it?” I say, assuming she’s referring to them treating me more like a woman of romantic interest than just their human employee.
“If you look like this, you’ll reflect what you’d look like as their wife.”
