Hammie’s already here and waiting for me. She takes my hand and leads me to Asher’s bedroom, where she shuts the two of us in and pulls me over to the closet. I find myself staring at a small rack of dresses.

“I did a little shopping,” she says, holding one of the dresses up against me. She squints an eye shut. “These look about your size.”

I’m quiet as I change out of my clothes and slip on the first dress. It’s Givenchy, a shimmering sea of midnight fabrics that hugs my hips.

Hammie studies me with a thoughtful frown. “It fits a little weird up here,” she says, tapping my shoulder. She turns to grab another dress. “Let’s try a Giambattista Valli. Give you some volume.”

She holds up a beautiful, fluffy pouf of a gown in pale champagne pink. I stare at myself, drowning behind layers of tulle, and imagine what it will be like to see Hideo in person again. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I start to say.

“Mm, you’re right,” Hammie ponders out loud, hanging the dress back on the rack. “Too much pouf. How about a Dior?”

“No, I mean—” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Hideo. This isn’t going to go well.”

Hammie pauses to look at me as she holds up a new ball gown with a bold black-and-white print. “You’re afraid to see him, aren’t you?”

My eyes meet Hammie’s in the mirror. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes when we last talked. He’s not going to hear me out. More likely, he’ll have his bodyguards on me the instant he knows I’m at the party.”

Hammie doesn’t deny it, and I’m almost grateful she doesn’t try to console me with any lies. “Listen,” she replies instead. “One time, my mom and dad had an argument before New Year’s. I don’t remember what it was over. Walking our dog? Something dumb. Anyway, they both decided, regardless, to go separately to their friends’ New Year’s Eve party. I went with my dad. When we got there, my dad saw my mom, sparkling in the most gorgeous silver gown you’ve ever seen in your life. Know what he did? He walked right up to her, said he was sorry, and then they kissed over and over and over. It was disgusting.”

I give Hammie a withering look. “That’s different. Your parents are in love. And they weren’t fighting over the fact that your dad wants to control the world.”

Hammie waves a flippant hand. “Details. I’m just saying. You think you’re not over Hideo? He’s mad about you. You heard Kenn say it. Even Zero knows. And now the girl he can’t get out of his head is going to show up right in front of him, without warning, in a stunning dress? You’re going to knock his socks off with a battering ram.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us thinks so.” I pull on a new dress and adjust the straps. This one fits like a glove, with a plunging back and a full skirt ending perfectly at my feet. “I don’t think being unpredictable is a good thing with Hideo,” I say.

“Everything about you has been unpredictable since the moment you hacked into his game.” Hammie steps back, admiring the dress’s clean lines. “If he doesn’t at least give you the time of day when he sees you like this, he really has no soul. Then you can kick his ass.”

We pause at a knock on the door. Hammie calls out that we’re done, and it opens to reveal Roshan leaning against the doorway. He glances over at me with an approving look.

“Car’s here,” he says.

“Give us a sec,” Hammie replies. “While I do her hair and makeup.”

The world is hanging by a thread, and yet here the Riders still are, acting like this is nothing more than getting me ready for a party. I feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude for them.

“Hideo’s going to know you all helped me,” I say to Roshan.

“You don’t need to worry about us right now,” Roshan replies. He meets my gaze with his steady one. “Just be careful.”

I close my eyes as Hammie starts dusting glittering shadow on my eyelids. It’s just as well. Tremaine’s story about their past is still fresh in my mind, and looking at Roshan’s unsuspecting face sends an ache through my chest.

Finally, I’m ready. As I head out of the house, I hear Hammie call out one last “Good luck!” in my direction. Then I’m getting into the car, and the door seals me in.

I spend the entire ride with my hands clasped tightly in my lap, lost in the silken folds of my dress’s skirt. Beyond the window, high-rises blur by with little shrines squeezed between them, followed by garden walls and an expansive park. The sun is already setting, and more neon lights are starting to turn on. As we drive alongside a river that reflects the subways running on the opposite side of the banks, I can see the interior of the train cars packed with people, many of them decked out in their Warcross virtual outfits.

Too anxious already, I force myself to look away, then concentrate on overlaying a randomly generated face on my own. My rainbow hair turns into sleek dark brown, and my eyes change to a pale hazel. When I see my reflection again in the car’s rearview mirrors, I look unrecognizable.

I don’t need to tell him much tonight, I remind myself. Right now, I just need to convince the Blackcoats that I’m making progress in getting closer to Hideo. I need Hideo to agree to meet me again in private, so that I can talk to him safely.

He’s mad about you. I try to repeat Hammie’s reassurances to myself. But it’s harder to believe without her beside me.

The drive feels both like it took forever and no time at all. The Tokyo Museum of Contemporary Art’s main entrance is entirely blocked off today, thick with security, but my car takes a turn into a smaller side entrance that brings us through the surrounding park grounds. We go up the winding path a brief distance before stopping on the side of the building. Here, it’s quieter, a few other black cars ahead of us. I hold my breath as we reach the front of the line. Here, the car comes to a full stop at the entrance, and its door slides open.

“Have a wonderful evening,” the car says. “Congratulations again on your team’s win.”

“Thank you,” I mutter at it before I exit, fanning out my dress.

Everyone else inside the building is decked out in elaborate attire. Some of them are wearing half masks adorned with jewel-encrusted feathers, while others hold delicate, porcelain-colored fans across their faces. I stand there for a moment, feeling at once vulnerable and invisible. Thank goodness Hammie forced me to choose such an elegant dress. Anything less would have made me stand out in this crowd.

The main entrance hall of the museum is a soaring corridor of glass and metal, enormous triangles cut through with a steel mesh of circles. The giant glass panels are actually screens, and as I walk, the NeuroLink simulates scenes on each panel from this year’s championship worlds. I recognize the rematch’s world of cloud plains and cliffs, then the ice world of my first official game. I pause for a moment in front of a panel showcasing the eerie underwater ruins that we’d played in the Riders’ third round. This was the world where Zero had broken into my account and made me his offer.

All around me, groups of social elites cluster and laugh politely over conversations I can’t understand. I see women drenched in jewels, men in sharply tailored suits and tuxedos. Asher had said these people would be the upper crust of society, billionaires and philanthropists, the kind of people Hideo must constantly cross paths with.

Then, finally, I reach the end of the hall, where I spot who I’ve been searching for.

Every muscle in my body tenses at the same time. Hideo’s standing there with a small circle of his bodyguards, each of them dressed in matching black suits, and he’s deep in conversation with several other well-dressed people. Kenn. Mari is here, too, in a long-sleeved, silver dress with a sheer tulle train. There’s a young woman about my age who’s leaning into Hideo, laughing at something he’s just said. I try not to pay attention to how beautiful she is. A few others, women and businessmen alike, wait on the sidelines for their chance to talk to him.

At least Asher was right about this setting—if Hideo sees me here, he’s not going to want to cause a scene. There have been enough disruptions during this year’s championships, and too many elite folks are here. But if he doesn’t want me to cause a scene, he’ll have to agree to talk to me.

As I watch him politely field the girl’s questions, I gradually start to dissolve the anonymous virtual face I’ve overlaid over my own, erasing it so that only Hideo will be able to see behind it. Then I step forward until there’s no one before me except him and the girl.

He glances in my direction. Then he freezes. His distant expression vanishes, and for an instant, all I can see beneath it is a look of shock.

Beside him, the girl touching his arm looks in my direction and gives me a confused scowl. To her, I still look like some stranger, someone she doesn’t know, and she lets out a nervous laugh. “Who’s this, Hideo?” she says.

One of the bodyguards must sense Hideo’s sudden change in demeanor, too, because I see his hand fly to his gun. I instinctively brace myself. I’ve made a mistake, I’ve misjudged this event—Hideo’s going to let his guard take me down, he doesn’t care about making a scene here, no matter how many powerful people are at this party.

But then Hideo holds up a warning hand at the guard. He meets the man’s eyes and shakes his head once. “Excuse me,” he says to the girl at his side, then takes a few steps toward me. He gives me a polite bow of his head, and I return the gesture.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” he says. He takes my hand and presses it once to his lips. Behind him, the girl he’d been with sucks in her breath and exchanges a quick look with a friend. The conversation around us turns quiet.

His mind must be spinning right now. He must be wondering how I got in here, whether the Phoenix Riders are in on whatever my plans are.