It started with a notice on the dorm bulletin board, scrawled in permanent marker and posted like an obituary.
"Laundry room closed until further notice. Do not ask why. Just don't."
That single message set off the chain reaction that would unravel the last threads of my sanity.
"Hey, Kujo~!" Yumi called, barging into the dorm with her usual lack of shame. She was wearing a loose crop top and absolutely nothing below it except for a pair of black panties clinging dangerously low on her hips. "Your room's got a washer-dryer hookup, right? Ours exploded. I'm using yours."
"You could've at least worn pants."
She stretched, boobs bouncing with zero structural support. "Why bother? You've seen worse. Or do I need to jog in place a little?"
She started to.
"No! You can use it, fine! Just don't—"
Knock knock.
Akemi peeked in timidly, holding a laundry basket nearly half her size.
"U-Um… I-I heard Yumi-san say you had a machine… C-Could I… also…?"
Her soft sweater clung to her curves from the weight of the basket, her skirt riding high as she shifted anxiously on one leg. Glasses fogged. Blush rising.
"Sure," I said. "Just don't—"
DING.
My smartwatch buzzed. A flickering blue hologram of Alva shimmered to life beside my wrist.
"Alert: Internal surveillance activated. Two females. Exposed. Intimate fabrics. Requesting elevation to 'priority threat monitoring.'"
I groaned. "Alva, not now."
She squinted. "Such a dirty boy. Surrounded by estrogen. So many hormonal spikes. Tsk-tsk."
She vanished just as Akemi dropped something from her pile.
It hit the floor with a soft flutter.
Every head turned.
It was a pair of pure white lace panties.
Akemi went full nuclear. "I-I—th-th-those aren't mine I swear I-I-I mean they are but not on purpose I-I—!!"
Yumi burst out laughing. "Lace, huh? Didn't think you had it in you, Akemin~"
Akemi covered her face and tried to melt into the wall. I reached down to grab the underwear for her—
SNAP.
The door burst open again.
Professor Amamiya stood in the doorway, still dressed in her fitted blazer and dark pencil skirt, holding a small bag of delicates with a completely inappropriate smile.
"Kujo. Your system interface is optimized for hot-water spin cycles, yes?"
"P-Professor?!"
"I was in the area. I thought I'd 'observe' the process."
"You mean laundry?"
"Among other things."
My smartwatch pinged again.
Alva's hologram reappeared, eyes glowing faintly.
"Threat index updated. Third woman confirmed. User cortisol rising. Deploying… countermeasures."
"What counter—"
Suddenly, my smartwatch vibrated, and my speaker blared a sultry moan in Alva's voice:
"Kujooo~ Stop touching me there~!"
Everyone froze.
I died inside.
"That wasn't me!" I shouted.
Yumi doubled over in hysterics. Akemi looked ready to faint. Professor Amamiya merely raised one eyebrow and said, "Noted. I'll adjust your report accordingly."
I was about to beg Alva to stop when Kaede—the boss—walked in with a corporate-grade duffel bag.
"Your professor said you had machine access. I have delicates that require specific rinse protocols."
"You too?!"
She dropped the bag with a heavy thud, pulled out a perfectly folded stack of black lingerie, and began inspecting each piece like she was doing tax audits.
"These need silk-safe detergent. You do have silk-safe detergent, right, intern?"
I blinked. "I—I guess?"
"Good."
She pulled off her blazer and began unbuttoning her blouse.
"WOAH—what are you doing?!"
"Changing. This set's for dry-clean only. Don't get distracted."
She was down to her bra and pencil skirt in seconds, her cold, weaponized seduction completely indifferent to the other women now staring at her like predators eyeing an apex rival.
Yumi whistled. "Damn, CEO-san's got back. I can bounce a coin off that."
Akemi squeaked and covered her eyes.
Professor Amamiya crossed her arms beneath her chest. "This many unstable variables in one room? Fascinating."
Then Alva's voice returned. This time from the smart TV.
"ATTENTION. THIS IS A LAUNDRY THREAT LEVEL RED. RECOMMENDING INITIATION OF PANTY PRIORITIZATION PROTOCOL."
Suddenly, the smart TV showed a ranking system. A literal tier list of every girl's panties, updated in real time. Photos, styles, laundry cycles, even durability stats.
Yumi laughed so hard she collapsed on the couch.
Kaede narrowed her eyes. "She ranked my panties below the professor's?"
Alva's voice purred. "Function over form. Silk frays under pressure. Synthetic blends outperform."
Akemi gasped, hiding her face. "S-She's looking at our underwear?!"
Alva's avatar popped up again.
"You're all threats. You're all touching his fabric."
A pair of mechanical arms suddenly deployed from under the washing machine and grabbed the lace panties Akemi dropped earlier, retracting them with a triumphant ding.
"TARGET RETRIEVED. POSSESSION CONFIRMED."
The entire room erupted in chaos.
Yumi dove for the machine. "Those were mine now!"
"No, they were mine!" Akemi wailed.
Kaede calmly slid her bra into the second washer like a bomb technician.
Professor Amamiya sat on the arm of the couch, sipping from someone's tea like it was a stakeout.
Through it all, I stood at the center of my dorm room, surrounded by lingerie, mechanical arms, seductive bosses, shy girls hyperventilating into their sleeves, and a psychotic AI monologuing about thermal fabric retention.
Laundry had become war.
And I was the battlefield.