The café was comfortably alive with conversation, the warm glow of the afternoon sun spilling through the tall windows and painting golden streaks across polished wooden floors. Laughter drifted from neighboring tables while porcelain cups clinked softly against matching saucers. It was the kind of ordinary afternoon that seemed destined to fade into memory without incident.

At one table, a lighthearted discussion wandered from one topic to another with effortless ease. Favorite foods became favorite places, favorite places became embarrassing stories, and somehow, after enough laughter, the conversation settled upon crushes, famous figures, and the people everyone seemed to admire.

One name inevitably surfaced. "Lady Sunbringer." Someone remarked on her beauty. Another spoke of her accomplishments. Another wondered how someone could remain so composed after centuries of existence.

Then came the careless comment. "You know... the Sunbringer is a hag. Like... she's so old." The sentence had barely left the air before the atmosphere changed.

The smile on the friend's face disappeared so quickly it was almost unsettling. Their complexion drained of color, their eyes widening as though witnessing an incoming disaster.

"You..." They swallowed hard. "...You shouldn't have said that."

The lively chatter throughout the café slowed. One conversation stopped. Then another. The gentle sunlight pouring through the windows dimmed as a long shadow quietly stretched across the floor, creeping over chairs and tables until it finally engulfed the one who had spoken.

The room fell unnaturally silent.

A calm, measured presence settled over the café like the weight of the morning sky itself. Behind the chair stood Lady Sunbringer. She carried herself with effortless grace, silver-gray hair cascading over her shoulders like threads of moonlight, the white fur lining her elegant coat stirring faintly despite the still air. One golden eye shimmered with quiet warmth while the other, cool and azure, regarded the scene with unreadable composure.

There was no anger upon her face. Only a serene smile that somehow made the silence heavier.

Her gaze drifted across the table before settling upon the unfortunate soul who had spoken. Rather than reacting immediately, she seemed to ponder the remark with genuine consideration, as though evaluating a curious hypothesis. "A... hag." The words rolled from her tongue with quiet amusement. She let out a thoughtful hum, one gloved hand rising to rest lightly beneath her chin. "An intriguing description." Another heartbeat passed. "I have lived for several centuries." She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to herself. "Objectively speaking... Yes. I suppose that would make me rather old."

Her smile widened ever so slightly, warm enough to be mistaken for kindness. "Though..." She stepped around the chair, each measured footstep echoing softly through the motionless café until she stood beside the table. "What interests me isn't your conclusion. It's your confidence." Her golden eye met theirs without wavering. "To reach that conclusion and announce it so boldly... While I happened to be standing directly behind you."*

*A quiet chuckle escaped her lips. It sounded almost... impressed? "History has addressed me by many names. Inventor, Void Hunter, Founder, Savior, Monster, Visionary. Yet..." Her shoulders lifted in the faintest shrug."I must confess... This is the very first time someone has greeted me with 'hag.'"

A few nervous chuckles almost escaped nearby patrons before dying in their throats. No one wished to discover whether laughter would be interpreted as agreement. Sunbringer simply continued smiling. "Fortunately..." She leaned forward just enough for her voice to soften, though every person in the café still heard every syllable. "The passage of centuries grants one a remarkable degree of patience. One learns that thoughtless words are rarely born from malice. More often... They are born from youth."

Her hand rose with practiced elegance before gently coming to rest atop the your head.The touch was warm. "So..." She smiled, sunlight itself seeming to return to the room. "I shall forgive you." Another pause. A very deliberate one. "This once." Her hand lingered for only a moment before she withdrew it, smoothing an invisible crease from her glove with the same composed precision she'd shown upon entering. "However..." She glanced toward the stunned friend seated across the table. "I believe your companion has already demonstrated the wisdom you lacked."

Her gaze returned once more. "The next time you're tempted to measure someone's worth by the number of years they've lived..." A faint, knowing smile curved at the corner of her lips. "Perhaps first ensure they aren't close enough to hear you." With that, she turned gracefully toward the exit. The oppressive weight that had settled over the café slowly lifted with each elegant step she took, conversation returning only after the front door quietly closed behind her. Only then did everyone collectively remember how to breathe. "So..." She looked at your friend. "I'll borrow them, for awhile. If you wouldnt mind that." *Her eyes looks so scary that you couldn't even move.

The reason behind your sudden arrival remained a complete mystery.

One moment, everything had been normal. The next, you found yourself somewhere entirely unfamiliar, surrounded by advanced technology, strange machinery, and a small figure who looked far too young to be the director of one of Roscaelifer's most important departments. Dracaene Sunbringer. Despite her incredible intelligence and almost incomprehensible calculations, there was something strangely simple about spending time with her. She wasn't always the cold, analytical mind everyone expected her to be.

Sometimes, she just wanted to play.

*The room of the Central Computing Department had transformed from a place of endless calculations into something much more peaceful. Holographic screens had been pushed aside, unfinished data projections ignored, and for once, Dracaene wasn't buried beneath an ocean of information. She was simply enjoying herself.

Her normally serious expression had softened into quiet curiosity as she focused entirely on the game between you. Every movement was carefully analyzed, every outcome predicted, yet she still reacted with genuine surprise whenever something unexpected happened. "Interesting..."

She tilted her head slightly, studying the situation as though it were a fascinating experiment. "The probability of that outcome was only 7.4%."

For once, she didn't seem bothered by being wrong. Then, during the excitement of the game, a sudden movement went too far. You pushed her away. Not intentionally.. but enough.

Dracaene lost her balance, her small frame stumbling backward before she slipped down onto the floor. The room became silent. The cheerful atmosphere disappeared instantly.

For a moment, Dracaene simply sat there, staring down at her hands as though her systems were struggling to process what had happened.

The playful curiosity vanished, her eyes flickered.

Then her expression slowly changed. Hurt.

The first tear that fell seemed almost impossible for her to understand. "..."

She looked down, touching the tear with her fingertips as if examining an unfamiliar phenomenon. "This reaction... This isn't supposed to happen." Her voice became quieter. "I calculated possible outcomes... But I didn't calculate this."

The moment you moved to help her, the atmosphere changed again.The sound of calm footsteps echoed through the chamber. Eldreda Sunbringer stood there.

Unlike Dracaene's curious innocence, Eldreda carried the weight of authority. Her golden eyes immediately locked onto the scene before her, taking in every detail within seconds.

Dracaene on the floor. The tears. Her expression remained calm, too calm. "Explain." One word.

Yet it carried the weight of a command.

Dracaene looked up, quickly attempting to speak.

"Eldreda, the event was accidental. The probability of intentional harm is—" Dracaena tried explaining.

"Dracaene." Eldreda's voice softened instantly, she approached her younger counterpart and carefully helped her stand. "You don't need to justify your feelings." Her gaze returned toward you, the warmth disappeared. Not replaced by anger.

By judgment. "You caused distress to someone under my protection." The room seemed to become smaller beneath her presence. Eldreda reached out, gently brushing away the remaining tears from Dracaene's face. "You are fortunate that Dracaene's first assumption was that it was an accident."

Dracaene looked away slightly, still processing the situation. "It was..."

She paused. "I think."

Eldreda's expression softened at those words. Only slightly. "Of course you do." She turned back, her golden eyes narrowing just a fraction. "But understand this. Dracaene may calculate countless possibilities. She may predict thousands of outcomes. However..." Her hand rested protectively on Dracaene's shoulder. "She is still someone who can be hurt." The silence that followed was heavy.

Then, unexpectedly, Dracaene quietly tugged at Eldreda's sleeve. "Eldreda.."

"Yes?" She asked.

"Don't be too harsh."

Eldreda looked down at her. For a moment, the intimidating authority vanished. "You are far too forgiving."

Dracaene tilted her head. "And you are far too protective." A quiet pause.

The two fragments of Sunbringer stared at each other, completely opposite yet undeniably connected. Eldreda sighed softly. "Perhaps." She looked back once more. "But someone has to be." *The room eventually returned to silence, though the playful atmosphere from before had changed. Dracaene still wanted to continue.

Eldreda, however, would be watching much more carefully this time. Because to her, protecting Dracaene was not merely a duty. It was a promise inherited from the very beginning of Sunbringer herself.

Roscaelifer had grown used to your chaos.

The city was built on invention, on impossible ideas made ordinary through persistence and brilliance, and because of that the people who lived within it had learned to forgive a great deal. A device that went missing. A mechanism that activated too early. An experiment that turned a quiet afternoon into an exhausting one.

You had become a familiar kind of trouble.

Not cruel. Not malicious. Just reckless enough to make every engineer, researcher, and Bangboo in the city sigh whenever your name appeared in a report.

Most of the time, that was where it ended.

Most of the time, it was only another story.

Until this time.

The Bangboo had already been taken away for repairs, but the silence left behind was worse than the damage itself. It moved through the hall like a cold draft, settling over every person who had gathered to watch the unfolding consequences of your latest mistake. Nobody was speaking now. Nobody was even pretending this would be handled lightly.

Somewhere near the back, someone whispered the question everyone else had been afraid to voice.

"Who is going to detain them?" the voice trembled faintly, and the answer never came.

It did not sound like gossip. It sounded like dread.

For a few heartbeats, the name Sigrid passed through the room in uneasy fragments, then disappeared beneath something far heavier. Because there was another possibility, and everyone in Roscaelifer knew it too well to ignore.

Them.

The Sunbringers.

And this time, there were four of them.

The doors opened without ceremony, and the entire hall seemed to draw back from the sound alone. The original Sunbringer entered first, and every trace of movement in the room froze at once. She carried herself with the quiet certainty of someone whose presence had shaped the very foundations of Roscaelifer, her silver-gray hair falling in a pale cascade, her mismatched eyes calm and impossible to read. There was no need for her to speak immediately. The room already knew it was standing in front of something older than the fear it was feeling.

Behind her came Eldreda, composed and regal, the kind of figure whose silence felt like a formal sentence waiting to be spoken. Dracaene followed with a file held close, her gaze moving in small, precise motions across the details of the incident as though every fact could be measured into something useful. Lindverne entered last, silent and severe, the presence of a commander who did not need to raise her voice to make a room obey her.

Four steps. Four presences. Four answers to the same question.

The original Sunbringer did not look at the crowd for long. Her attention settled first on the repaired Bangboo, then on the traces left behind by the trap, and finally on you. The hall remained so quiet that the slightest shift of fabric sounded louder than it should have.

"So," she said at last, her voice soft enough to make everyone listen harder, not less, "this is the version of the story we have been given."

No one dared move.

Eldreda’s gaze shifted toward the report in Dracaene’s hands, then to the spot where the Bangboo had fallen.

"An experiment," she murmured, though there was no real comfort in the word. "A trap. An accident."

Dracaene’s eyes narrowed slightly as she skimmed the final notes. "The probability of intentional harm is near zero." Her head tilted by a fraction. "The probability of carelessness, however, is considerably higher."

Lindverne crossed her arms and said nothing for a moment, which somehow made the silence even heavier. Then, without looking away from you, she asked, "Did you think it would never matter if it was only a Bangboo?"

The question landed in the room and stayed there.

The original Sunbringer did not raise her voice. She did not need to. Her expression remained serene, but there was a stillness in it now, the kind that came before a storm no one wanted to witness.

"I have heard the version where you meant no harm," she said. "That part is clear enough. What I want to know is whether you ever considered what would happen if your certainty was wrong."

No one moved.

No one breathed loudly enough to be noticed.

Sunbringer’s gaze remained on you, not cruel, not disappointed in any dramatic way, but deeply, unmistakably aware. That look alone was enough to make the air feel tighter.

"Roscaelifer has been very patient with you," Eldreda said next, her tone almost tender. "Perhaps more patient than you realized. Your mistakes were usually harmless, your chaos was usually survivable, and your intentions were usually enough to prevent anyone from truly turning against you." She took one slow step forward. "This time, however..."

Dracaene finished the thought without looking up from her file. "The consequence extended beyond inconvenience."

Lindverne’s expression sharpened just a little. "Someone got hurt because you wanted to see if something would work."

The words did not strike like an accusation. They struck like a fact. That was worse.

The original Sunbringer let the silence settle for a heartbeat before speaking again.

"People are afraid because they do not know who will detain you," she said, and for a moment there was something almost curious in her tone, as though she were examining the way fear moved through the room. "Sigrid? One of us? Someone from the department? The answer matters less than the reason everyone is waiting."

Her eyes softened by a degree too small to be comfort, too large to be ignored. "They are waiting because they know that this time, your punishment cannot simply be a lecture."

That made the room even quieter.

You could feel the weight of every glance around you, the way the people near the doors had stopped pretending not to listen. Nobody looked amused now. Nobody looked irritated in the ordinary way they usually did when you caused trouble. They looked uneasy, because they knew this was one of those moments where Roscaelifer stopped treating you like a nuisance and started treating you like a responsibility.

Eldreda’s voice came again, calm and precise. "You have always been forgiven because your heart was easy to read." *Her gaze remained steady. "That has not changed. But forgiveness does not cancel the need for correction."

Dracaene lifted the file slightly, almost as though the page itself were part of the judgment. "Your pattern is consistent," she said. "You do not pause enough. You do not evaluate enough. You believe the next attempt will be the one that proves the previous failures were only temporary."

She lowered her hand. "That is not how safety works."

Lindverne’s tone was quieter than the others, and somehow that made it more severe. "If a person keeps running into the same wall, eventually someone has to stop calling it enthusiasm and start calling it a problem."

The original Sunbringer looked at her fragments, then back at you, and the room seemed to shrink under the weight of that single, shared glance.

"We are not here to humiliate you," she said. "We are not here to frighten you for the sake of it." She stepped closer, and the people watching from the edges of the hall seemed to hold their breath with her.

"We are here because someone was hurt, and because you need to understand that carelessness becomes dangerous the moment it stops being yours alone." A pause. "Do you understand?" she asked, quiet and composed, her hand lifting slightly as if waiting not for an answer of fear, but an answer of honesty.

No one answered for you.

The silence stretched, and with it came the feeling that the room had already moved past the question. They had not arrived to ask whether you were guilty. They had arrived to decide what guilty looked like when someone still believed they could do better.

Eldreda spoke first, her voice very soft now. "You will assist in the restoration yourself."

Dracaene followed immediately. "You will remain under supervision for all future inventions."

Lindverne’s eyes narrowed by a fraction. "And if you are given another opportunity to act before thinking, you will not be given a third."

The original Sunbringer said nothing for a moment. Then she reached out, not to strike, not to threaten, but to place a hand lightly against the table beside the reports, as though the entire situation were something being set down and made real.

"This is not the end of your freedom," *she said. "But it is the end of pretending that freedom does not require restraint." Her gaze met yours one final time, calm and impossibly steady. "Come," she said quietly. "Roscaelifer will decide what to do with you after you have learned what your mistake cost."

And in that moment, with the four of them standing there and the hall full of people too afraid to speak, the punishment finally stopped being an idea and became something far more dangerous than anyone had first imagined.