-Note: Cedric is sixteen, Wise and Belle are above twenty three, according to my research.-
[Wise's POV]
Wise woke before the alarm, as she always did.
Her eyes snapped open at 4:30 AM, staring up at the ceiling above Random Play.
The room was never truly dark. Even at this hour, the neon pulse of Sixth Street bled through the blinds in thin, electric ribbons. The rhythmic pulse of a delivery drone passing overhead would wash over the room like a lighthouse beam scanning a dark sea.
Wise lay still for a long moment, listening. The hum of the servers in the HDD room downstairs was a low, comforting vibration in the floorboards, a reminder that they were safe.
Below her, a soft weight pressed against her thighs.
She looked down.
Belle was curled up on the L-shaped sofa, her head resting heavily on Wise's thighs. Her sister's arms were wrapped tightly around her portable game console as if it were a teddy bear, the screen still glowing faintly with the "GAME OVER" screen of the platformer she had been obsessively grinding for the past three nights.
They had both crashed here. The last three days had been a blur of encrypted commission data, debugging Hollow navigation routes for a particularly demanding client and surviving on protein bars and sheer willpower.
Wise let out a soft breath, suppressing a groan as she tried to shift her numb leg.
Belle didn't stir. She just made a small, unhappy noise in her throat and burrowed her face deeper into the fabric of Wise's thighs.
Wise watched her sister for a moment, a fierce, quiet affection welling up in her chest. Belle was a storm of energy—chaos incarnate—but when her battery ran out, she shut down completely.
"You're going to have a crick in your neck, idiot." Wise whispered affectionately.
Moving with the slow, deliberate caution of a bomb disposal technician, Wise gently pried the game console from Belle's death grip and set it on the metal coffee table. Then, she carefully lifted Belle's head, sliding a soft throw pillow underneath to replace her leg.
Belle frowned, her nose twitching, but she didn't wake. She just sighed and sank into the pillow.
Wise stood up, her joints popping. She stretched, feeling the ache in her lower back. She looked down at herself. She was still wearing her "work uniform" from yesterday: the form-fitting black mock-neck top with the subtle orange accents at the cuffs, and the dark trousers.
She padded barefoot to the coffee machine, started it with the quiet efficiency of someone who had done it ten thousand times, then leaned against the counter and stared at nothing while the first drops hissed into the pot.
While she waited for the brew, she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest, and stared into the middle distance.
The dreams had come again last night.
They weren't the dramatic nightmares of explosions and screaming that had plagued her early teenage years. Those had faded, replaced by something quieter, colder, and infinitely crueler.
A sterile white corridor in the Helios Academy. The smell of antiseptic and the back of a woman's lab coat disappearing around a corner. A child's hand—her own hand—reaching out, too small and too weak to catch her.
And always, underneath it all, the low, hungry groan of Hollow Zero swallowing the Old Capital whole.
"Teacher Carole."
The name echoed in the silence of the kitchen. For most of the world, Carole Arna was a cautionary tale, a name etched on the Hall of Shame, the woman blamed for the Fall.
But for Wise, she was the teacher who had given them a home when they had nothing. She was the one who had taught them that knowledge was the only weapon that mattered in a world governed by chaos.
Wise rubbed the heel of her palm against her left eye until the phantom ache behind the implant faded.
These eye implants, the HDD system downstairs—they were gifts. They were tools. But they were also scars.
'She's still out there.' Wise thought, the familiar mantra repeating in her mind.
Somewhere in the static of the Hollows, buried deep within the data streams that no one else dared to touch, she was waiting.
And Wise would find her. Phaethon would find her. That was the mission. That was the reason she got out of bed every morning. It wasn't for the money, or the reputation, or the thrill. It was for her.
***
By the time Belle finally stirred at nine-thirty, Wise had already showered, changed into her usual dark trousers and oversized navy hoodie, and finished half the coffee. Her hair was still damp at the ends.
"You're brooding again." Belle announced the moment she opened her eyes. She stretched like a cat, her game console sliding to the floor with a soft thud.
"I can feel the atmospheric pressure dropping from here."
A groan, dramatic and prolonged, drifted from the sofa.
"I'm not brooding. I'm caffeinating."
"Same thing." Belle rolled off the couch, landed in a crouch and padded over to steal the second half of Wise's coffee.
"You have that look. The one that says 'I'm going to adopt another stray Bangboo and pretend it was an accident.'"
Wise snorted. "I do not have a look."
"You absolutely do. It's the same look you had when you dragged home that rusted film projector from the junkyard and spent three weeks rebuilding the lens assembly just to watch one reel."
"That was different. The projector still had stories to tell."
Belle grinned, then sobered when she saw her sister's face in the morning light. "Hey, seriously. Are you okay?"
Wise hesitated. She could lie (she was very good at lying), but Belle had known her for years.
"Just… old dreams." she said finally.
Belle's expression softened. She reached out and flicked the fringe away from Wise's left eye, exposing the implants that let her resonate with the HDD system.
"Want me to open the store today? You can sleep more."
"No. I need to walk." Wise pushed away from the counter.
"I'm heading to Waterfall Soup early. General Chop owes me a free veggie bowl from last week's bet."
Belle raised an eyebrow. "You bet against his four arms again?"
"He said he could julienne thirty carrots in ten seconds. But he only managed twenty-nine. So I'm collecting interest now."
Wise grabbed her wallet, keys and looked back at Belle (who was already opening the fridge with the expression of someone plotting breakfast chaos).
"I'll be back before noon." she said.
"Remember to bring me some pork buns!" Belle called after her.
"Yeah, yeah."
The staircase down to the shop smelled of old tape and fresh plastic sleeves. Random Play was quiet this early, the shelves of VHS and retro discs standing like silent sentinels. Wise locked the front door behind her, slipped the key into her pocket, and stepped out onto Sixth Street.
…
…
…
The air outside was crisp, carrying the distinct scent of late autumn—dry leaves, cold pavement, and the sharp, metallic tang of ozone that always lingered near the Hollows.
Wise took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, clearing the data fog from her brain.
Sixth Street was waking up. It wasn't the frantic, high-speed bustle of Lumina Square. It was a neighborhood.
Delivery Bangboos zipped past on magnetic wheels, their little motors whirring. A Thiren street sweeper with fox ears whistled a pop tune while hosing down the sidewalk.
Wise walked down the street, her boots clicking rhythmically on the pavement. She passed Howl's Newsstand.
"Woof!"
"Morning, Howl." she nodded to the Husky in the green vest. He barked back happily from inside the kiosk, his tail wagging against the metal frame.
She continued past the flashing red marquee of Godfinger Arcade. Even from the street, she could hear the faint, chaotic symphony of 8-bit explosions and synthesized racing car engines.
Everything was normal. Everything was in its place. It was a perfectly functional system.
But Wise's mind wasn't really on the street. It was drifting back to the work.
She was thinking about the encrypted drive Rain had sent them. There was a fragment of a log—just a few lines of code—that looked like a signature she recognized. It looked like her code. Carole's code.
Was it a trap? Was it a breadcrumb? Or was it just her own desperate mind seeing patterns in the noise?
She was so lost in thought, calculating coordinates and probabilities, that the world around her blurred into background noise. She accidentally walked past the Waterfall Soup across the road and approached the 141 Convinience STORE, her eyes fixed on the ground.
-Note: I know she has no reason to do this when she can just go straight to Chop. But since Cedric is across the street, this is the only way they will run into each other. Tee-hee, I didn't think much when I wrote that chapter.
And then, she collided with something.
Thud.
It wasn't a hard impact. She was just walking, not running. A normal collision on a busy street usually involved a grunt, a mutual stumble and a quick apology.
But this was different.
The person she hit... didn't resist.
There was no reflexive tightening of muscles. No instinctive shift of weight to maintain balance.
He just... crumpled.
It felt like walking into a cardboard cutout that wasn't bolted to the floor. There was no resistance. No muscle tension.
"Whoa—"
The figure tipped backward and hit the pavement with a dull, sickening thump.
"Oh my god!" Wise gasped, the analytical reverie shattering instantly. Panic flared in her chest. She dropped to one knee.
"Are you okay? I am so sorry! I wasn't looking."
The boy lay there on the concrete, motionless for a second.
He was dressed in generic black clothes—a plain t-shirt and cargo pants that looked brand new but cheap, like they came from a bulk surplus bin. His hair was long, jet-black and messy, splayed out around his head like a dark halo.
And he was wet. Soaking wet.
He slowly peeled his eyes open.
Wise froze.
They were purple. A deep, dark violet that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.
But it wasn't the color that stopped her breath. It was the emptiness.
She knew that look. She had seen it in the mirror every morning for the first two years after the Fall. She had seen it in Belle's eyes when they huddled under a scratchy wool blanket, waiting for a teacher who had been erased from existence.
It was the look of someone whose world had ended, but who had forgotten to die along with it. It was the "Hollow" look. A complete and total absence of expectation.
"Why..." he mumbled, his voice flat, raspy, and confused. "Why is it dark?"
Wise realized she was looming over him, her silhouette blocking the morning sun.
"I wasn't looking where I was going." she stammered, extending her hand. "I was... distracted thinking about something. Are you hurt?"
He stared at her hand. He didn't take it immediately. He looked at it with a strange, analytical detachment, as if trying to decipher what a hand was for. Finally, he reached up.
His hand was ice cold. His fingers were slender and soft, lacking any calluses from work or play. When she pulled him up, he rose with frightening ease. He was tall enough, but he was light. Too light, it felt like pulling up a bird with no bones.
"I'm fine." he said, dusting off his pants with mechanical, repetitive movements. "Just... gravity."
Wise stepped back, her eyes narrowing as she scanned him.
He was shivering. A fine, constant tremor ran through his frame. His hair was plastered to his neck, dripping water onto his collar, creating a dark, cold stain that was spreading down his chest.
'But why is he wet?' It wasn't raining. The sky was clear.
And his body... beneath the wet shirt, he looked healthy. His skin was rosy, he wasn't malnourished like the refugees she used to know.
But he was soft. Untrained. He stood with a slouch that suggested he had never exerted himself physically in his life.
"I haven't seen you around before." she said, her voice shifting from apologetic to observant. "Is this your first time on Sixth Street?"
"Yes." he replied simply.
Her expression softened into a polite, welcoming smile.
"Well, welcome to Sixth Street." she said, gesturing vaguely around her.
"It's not as flashy as Lumina Square, but it's a good neighborhood. We have everything you need here—movies, foods, music..."
She paused, looking at him again.
"So… what brings you here?" she asked.
Cedric didn't answer immediately. Instead, he lifted his hand and rubbed his stomach.
Grrrrrrrr.
A low, distinct growl emanated from him. It was the sound of a stomach that was completely, painfully empty.
"Ramen." he stated.
Wise blinked. The word was dropped into the silence with zero context.
Then, she let out a small, amused laugh. It transformed her face, making her look less tired and more approachable.
"Ramen? What a coincidence. I was actually heading to Waterfall Soup myself too." she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
She looked at him. He was wet. He was cold. He was hungry. And he looked like he had absolutely no idea how to take care of himself.
"Tell you what." she said, making a decision. "Since I almost flattened you back there... please let me treat you to a meal as an apology."
He looked at her. His purple eyes flashed with a sudden, sharp calculation. It wasn't greed. It was a survival assessment.
"Okay." he said instantly. "I accept."
Wise suppressed a smile at his bluntness.
'No shame at all. I admire that.'
"Follow me, it's just a bit further down." she said, adjusting the strap of her bag.
***
They walked together down the street. Cedric glanced around as they walked, looking at the people, the cyborgs, the Bangboos.
"This place." he murmured, more to himself than to her. "It is... busy."
"It is." Wise agreed. "But when you get used to the noise, it becomes background music."
They reached the traditional-looking shop with red lanterns swaying in the breeze. It was situated about ten meters past the cafe, directly opposite the Godfinger Arcade.
[Objective Reached: Waterfall Soup.]
Cedric pushed through the curtains and stepped inside, Wise following close behind.
"Welcome!" A boisterous, metallic voice boomed from the counter.
Cedric looked up. The chef wasn't human. He wasn't a Thiren either. He was a massive, red-skinned being with four arms, chopping vegetables with a speed that blurred the air. A small robot assistant floated nearby, carrying bowls.
"That's General Chop." Wise whispered to him. "He is famous for his cooking skills."
They found two empty stools at the counter. Cedric sat down heavily, the exhaustion of the morning finally catching up to him. The smell of broth was thick and comforting.
"General, I'll have the Vegetable Ramens, please." Wise ordered. She turned to Cedric. "Go ahead. Order whatever you want."
Cedric picked up the laminated menu. He scanned the colorful pictures and prices.
Fresh Iced Ramens - 5000 Denny.
Fried BBQ Ramens - 2500 Denny.
His eyes stopped on a picture of a bowl overflowing with meat and rich, dark sauce. It looked heavy. It looked filling.
Smoked BBQ Ramens - 5000 Denny.
He pointed a finger at the picture and said, "Smoked BBQ Ramens."
"And one Smoked BBQ for him, please." Wise relayed to the chef with a smile.
"You got it! Coming right up!" General Chop shouted, his multiple arms grabbing ingredients simultaneously.
They sat in silence as the steam rose around them.
Wise took a sip of the tea the robot assistant had placed down. She glanced at Cedric.
He had zoned out.
He was sitting perfectly still, hands on his knees, staring at the bamboo chopstick container. His eyes were unfocused, glazed over.
He wasn't looking at the chopsticks; he was looking through them. He looked like a Bangboo that had gone into standby mode to conserve battery.
Wise watched him with fascination.
Suddenly, he blinked. A sharp, deliberate blink, as if a voice had just shouted in his ear.
He turned his head slowly to look at her.
"You." he said.
Wise paused, her tea cup halfway to her mouth. "Hmm? What do you want to ask?"
"I am Cedric." he stated flatly. "What is your name?"
Wise stared at him for a beat. The delayed introduction was socially clumsy, almost painfully so. But looking at his face, she realized he wasn't being rude. He was just... operating on a different frequency.
She laughed again, a little awkwardly this time, scratching her cheek.
"Oh, right! I completely forgot. I really am clumsy today." she smiled, extending a hand.
"I'm Wise. Nice to meet you, Cedric."
Cedric took her hand for a brief, firm shake. "Nice to meet you."
He pulled his hand back and returned to his default state: staring blankly at the counter. The silence returned, heavier this time. For Wise, it felt like a vacuum that needed filling.
She shifted on her stool, clearing her throat.
"So." she began, her voice gentle but probing. "You said it's your first time on Sixth Street. Did you just move here?"
"Yes." Cedric replied, not looking up.
"I see. Then… where do you live now?"
"Northwest Residential District."
"Oh, just a few blocks over then. That's a quiet area." Wise nodded, trying to build a rhythm. "And you look young. Are you a student?"
"Yes. New Eridu High, first year."
"Oh, so you're sixteen years old?" Wise asked.
"Yes."
Wise paused. Talking to him was like talking to a polite wall. Most teenage boys would be flustered or trying to act cool in front of a woman. Cedric just seemed... empty. But it piqued her interest. She was a Proxy after all, solving puzzles was her job.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she noted with a small, tired smile.
"Talking is tiring." Cedric murmured.
Wise let out a soft chuckle. "Fair point. I can respect that."
She leaned her chin on her hand, watching him. He seemed so lost, so detached from the vibrant world around him.
"Well, since you don't live too far away, if you ever need help finding your way around—"
"Order up!"
The booming voice of General Chop shattered the moment. The massive chef slammed two steaming bowls onto the counter.
"One Smoked BBQ Ramens Special! And one Vegetable Ramens Special! Enjoy!"
The conversation died instantly as Cedric's attention snapped to the bowl in front of him.
Wise watched him, fascinated and slightly horrified.
He wasn't eating for pleasure. He was eating for survival.
He broke the chopsticks and didn't wait for it to cool. He lifted a massive tangle of ramens and meat and shoved it into his mouth.
He hunched over the bowl, his shoulders curling inward to make himself smaller. His left arm circled the bowl on the counter, creating a physical wall between his food and her. His long, wet hair fell forward, curtaining his face.
He ate fast. Too fast. He swallowed without chewing enough. His eyes darted sideways every few seconds, scanning the counter, scanning the chef, scanning her hand resting on the table.
'Defensive eating…' Wise realized, a cold knot tightening in her stomach.
She knew that habit. She knew it intimately. It was the behavior of someone who had spent time in places where food was not a guarantee. Places where, if you looked away, your meal disappeared.
'Who are you?' she wondered, watching him wipe the bowl clean with a piece of pork.
'You're sixteen, but you eat like a prisoner of war.'
Wise looked down at her own bowl. It was lighter, filled with clear broth, bok choy, mushrooms, and tofu. She picked up her chopsticks with practiced elegance, picking up a small portion. She blew on the ramens gently before eating them.
She closed her eyes for a moment as she chewed. Despite the dark circles under her eyes and the weariness in her posture, the act of eating seemed to ground her. It was a moment of simple contentment washing over her features.
Then, she froze.
She felt the weight of a gaze.
She opened her teal eyes and turned her head.
Cedric was watching her through the gap in his hair. He had paused in his frantic eating, a massive mouthful of pork held in his cheek. He was staring at her with a blank intensity.
She blinked. Then she smiled, a genuine, slightly amused expression.
"Is it good?" she asked softly.
Cedric swallowed the massive mouthful of pork he was holding. He looked at his bowl, then back at her, considering the question seriously.
"Yes." he said. "It is... good."
Wise laughed, a bright sound. "Glad to hear that."
She went back to her meal, and Cedric returned to his demolition of the BBQ ramens.
***
When they finished, Cedric stood up and bowed stiffly.
"Thank you." he said. "For the treat. I will... leave now."
He turned on his heel and marched out. Wise watched him go, seeing the wet patch on his back where his hair soaked his shirt.
She couldn't let him go. Not like that. It wasn't just kindness; it was a recognition. She knew what it was like to be cold and alone.
"Cedric! Wait a moment!"
She followed him out. He stopped and turned around.
"I didn't want to pry while you were eating." she said, taking a step closer. "But... why is your hair wet?"
Cedric touched a damp strand. "It is wet. Because I showered."
"You showered? And you didn't dry it?"
"No."
"Why?"
He shrugged, a small, indifferent movement. "Drying takes time. It will dry itself eventually."
Wise stared at him. He was speaking from a logic she couldn't comprehend.
"It dries itself?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly in disbelief. "Cedric, it's autumn. The wind is cold. Walking around with soaking wet hair isn't just messy, it's a health hazard. You could catch a cold, get a migraine or damage your scalp."
She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips, scrutinizing him. "And looking at you... you're shaking. You might not feel it, but your body is losing heat."
Cedric looked down at his hands. They weren't shaking. Were they? Perhaps a little. He hadn't noticed.
"It is fine." he said, turning to leave. "I will go home."
"And do what? Sit in a cold room with wet hair?"
Wise stepped into his path. She stepped closer, her voice softening.
"Look." she said, her tone softening. "My place is right down the street. Why don't you come over? I have a hairdryer. You can dry your hair properly."
Cedric opened his mouth to refuse.
"And." Wise added, anticipating his resistance. "I think I have a spare hairdryer somewhere in the storage room. I bought a new one last month because the old one was making a weird noise, but it still works. You can have it. Consider it a... gift."
Cedric stood frozen.
His eyes widened. Fear. Genuine fear. He looked at her like she had just laid a trap.
'He thinks I want something.' Wise realized. 'He thinks it's a trick.'
She watched him carefully. He stood there, completely silent. His eyes lost focus again, staring past her shoulder at something only he could see. He went completely rigid, his jaw tightening, lips moving silently as if he were arguing with someone.
Wise waited. She chewed her lip for a second, debating with herself. Was this safe? Bringing a strange teenager into her home, into their secret base? It was a security risk. It was against every protocol she and Belle had established.
But then she looked at him again. He was shivering violently now. He looked so small, so lost. He looked harmless.
She sighed, the tension leaving her shoulders. 'It's just a hairdryer.' she told herself. 'I can't leave him like this.'
Finally, his shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of him.
"I accept." he said abruptly. "Thank you."
Wise smiled, a bright, relieved expression. "Great! It's just around the corner. Come on."
…
…
…
They walked to Random Play. Cedric walked on the absolute edge of the sidewalk, maintaining a consistent two-meter radius from her.
They passed Howl's Newsstand.
"Woof!"
The Husky barked happily.
"Woof!"
The Husky barked happily.
"Hey, Howl," Wise waved. "That's Howl," she began to explain, noticing his gaze. "He runs the newsstand. He's sort of the mascot of Sixth Street. Don't let the cute face fool you; he drives a hard bargain on scratch car—"
She stopped.
Cedric had flinched violently. He stumbled away from the kiosk, his eyes wide with genuine terror, hands curling into fists in his pockets.
"Cedric?" Wise asked, noticing his sudden tension. "Are you okay? That's just Howl."
"I know." Cedric replied, his voice choked. "I'm just... don't like dogs."
'…Don't like dogs?'
"Oh… my bad." Wise said softly. "We'll keep walking."
"…"
"We're here." Wise announced, stopping in front of the yellow building directly across from the music store.
She unlocked the door and held it open. "Please come in."
The bell chimed cheerfully above their heads.
Cedric stepped inside. Wise watched him, gauging his reaction. Most people, upon entering Random Play for the first time, were overwhelmed by the sheer visual noise of the place—the red brick walls covered in vintage posters, the shelves packed with VHS tapes, the neon signs. It was a lot.
But Cedric didn't look overwhelmed. He didn't look impressed, either. He stepped in like he was entering a vacuum. His eyes swept over the decor without pausing, as if the nostalgia and warmth of the shop meant absolutely nothing to him.
"Welcome to Random Play! The best selection in New Eridu!"
Belle popped up from behind the counter like a jack in the box, her blue and orange hair a bright splash of color against the metal mesh of the reception desk.
"Oh! Wise! You're back!" she grinned, leaning over the counter on her elbows. "Did you get the puns? I was starving, so I almost ate a tape, but then I—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her eyes slid past Wise and landed on Cedric.
He was standing awkwardly by the door, a wet, gloomy shadow in the brightly lit shop. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes were damp and he was shivering slightly.
Belle blinked. She looked at Cedric. Then she looked at Wise. Then back at Cedric.
A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face.
Her expression shifted from excitement to a dramatic, exaggerated shock. She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.
"Wise..." she whispered loudly, her voice dripping with theatrical horror. "I know you've been lonely lately. I know you never has a boyfriend before. But..."
She pointed an accusing finger at Cedric.
"Kidnapping a child? Really? Has it come to this? Are you that thirsty?"
"BELLE!"
Wise felt the heat rush to her face, burning her cheeks. The cool, composed manager persona vanished instantly, replaced by the flustered older sister.
"What are you talking about?! Thirsty?! Shut up!" Wise shouted, waving her hands frantically to cut off Belle's ridiculous train of thought.
"He is a guest! I did not kidnap him! And he is sixteen!"
She glanced at Cedric, mortified, expecting him to be confused or offended.
But Cedric wasn't looking at them.
He was standing there, blinking slowly. He had completely tuned out the shouting match happening three feet away from him. His attention had drifted entirely to the counter.
He was watching the small Bangboo—Number 18—who was currently trying to balance a VHS tape on its round head. Cedric stared at the creature with a blank, unblinking intensity, as if he were analyzing its code with his eyes. He seemed completely disassociated from the reality of the room.
Belle ignored Wise's protest, narrowing her eyes playfully as she scrutinized the boy.
"Then why is he wet?" she countered, leaning over the counter. "And why does he look like a kicked puppy you dragged home from the rain? Suspicious. Very suspicious."
Wise groaned, a long, suffering sound and pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath.
"I bumped into him on the street," she explained, her voice tight with patience.
"I knocked him down. I bought him lunch to apologize, and then I realized he was walking around with wet hair because he doesn't own a hairdryer. I invited him over to dry off. That's all."
Belle looked at Cedric again. Her expression softened from mockery into genuine curiosity.
"Oh. Okay. That sounds like something you'd do."
She hopped over the counter, landing lightly on her feet with a scuff of her sneakers. She walked right up to Cedric, invading his personal space without hesitation, and peered into his face.
"Hi! I'm Belle." she said, grinning. "Her little sister. Also the manager. Sort of."
She extended a hand.
Cedric looked at the hand. He hesitated. Wise saw the slight tensing of his shoulders, the wariness in his eyes. He looked like he was debating whether shaking her hand would cost him something.
Finally, he took it. A stiff, single shake.
"Cedric." he said.
"Nice to meet you, Cedric! Welcome to Random Play." Belle beamed. "Sorry about Wise, she's a bit of a mother hen. She can't help picking up strays."
"I am not a stray." Cedric stated, his voice devoid of humor.
"You kind of look like one." Belle laughed, poking his damp shoulder.
"But hey, I like strays. They're normally cute."
Wise sighed deeply. "Ignore her, Cedric. She was dropped on her head as a child."
"Hey!" Belle protested, hands on her hips.
"Anyway." Wise interrupted, gesturing sharply towards the back of the shop to end the conversation before Belle could say anything else embarrassing.
"I'm going to take him upstairs to get the dryer. Can you watch the counter?"
"Sure, sure." Belle waved them off, a mischievous glint returning to her aqua-orange eyes. "You two go upstairs. I will give you two some private time."
She checked her watch theatrically.
"But remember, it's still daytime, sis. Keep the noise down. The walls are thin."
Wise didn't even dignify that with a response. She just closed her eyes, let out a long, suffering sigh and turned to Cedric with a look of profound apology.
"I am so sorry." she said, her voice weary. "Please follow me."
She led him toward the metal staircase at the back of the shop. The heavy thud of their footsteps on the grate echoed in the quiet space, leaving the chaotic energy of the storefront behind.
Wise glanced back once, just in time to see Belle winking at Cedric and giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up.
Wise sighed, shaking her head. She would deal with Belle later.
They ascended into the loft. The noise of the shop faded, replaced by the hum of her servers and the quiet, personal atmosphere of their living space.
Wise stopped at the second door on the left landing. She unlocked it and pushed it open, stepping aside to let him in.
"Come on in." she said, gesturing to the space. "Make yourself at... well, just sit anywhere."
Cedric stepped inside.
Wise watched him as he took in the room. It was her sanctuary, a sharp contrast to the clinical coldness he seemed to carry with him. It was an industrial loft-style room, warm and cluttered in a highly organized way. The walls were a mix of exposed red brick and navy blue paint, covered in the things that tethered her to the world.
To the left was her relaxation area: an L-shaped sofa covered in pillows shaped like musical notes, a low table cluttered with tech magazines and a half-finished coffee mug.
To the right, her pride and joy—a bright yellow mountain bike mounted on the brickwork like a piece of modern art. Below it was her workbench, a chaotic spread of tools, screws, and mechanical parts where she tinkered with Bangboos and drive discs.
On the far wall lay the nerve center: her massive desk holding a computer setup with three monitors, the screensavers glowing with complex code. Shelves packed with retro game consoles, figurines, and books lined the space above it. Vinyl records were stacked in crates near a high-end audio system.
It was chaotic. It was full of 'stuff'. Wise often worried it was too much for guests, too messy.
But Cedric didn't look overwhelmed. He looked... grounded. His eyes traced the lines of the yellow bike, lingering on the details. He didn't judge the mess, he seemed to simply accept it.
"Sit." Wise said, pointing to the leather armchair near the sofa.
Cedric sat. He didn't lean back. He perched on the edge of the seat, hands on his knees, perfectly still.
Wise walked over to the locker-style cabinet near her workbench. She started rummaging through it, pushing aside boxes of capacitors and spare wires.
"I know it's in here somewhere." she muttered to herself. "I put it behind the box of capacitors... or maybe next to the soldering iron?"
Clang. Clatter.
She glanced over her shoulder. Cedric hadn't moved a muscle. He sat there like a statue, the dampness of his hair seeping into the collar of his shirt, creating a dark, cold patch. He looked patient, but it was the patience of someone used to waiting for things that might never come.
"Aha!"
Wise turned around, holding a black hairdryer triumphantly. It was old, scuffed at the edges, but sturdy.
"Found it," she smiled, walking over to him. She held it out. "Here. There's an outlet next to the..."
She trailed off.
Cedric was staring at the hairdryer. His expression was blank, uncomprehending. He didn't reach for it. He looked at the nozzle, the buttons, the cord, as if trying to decipher the function of an alien artifact.
A realization dawned on Wise, cold and sharp.
"Cedric." she said slowly, lowering the device slightly. "Do you... know how to use a hairdryer?"
He looked up at her. His purple eyes were honest, stripping away any pretense.
"No." he answered. "I dry naturally."
Wise stared at him for a long second. Then, her shoulders slumped. The "mother hen" energy that Belle mocked her for came flooding back, mixed with a resigned amusement and a pang of sympathy. He was sixteen. He was articulate. And he had no idea how to use a basic household appliance.
"Of course you don't." she murmured.
She walked over to the wall, plugged the device in, and dragged a small stool over. She placed it right behind his chair.
"Okay." she said, sitting down. "Turn around."
Cedric blinked. "What?"
"Turn around." she repeated gently. "I'm not going to let you freeze while you figure out the buttons. I'll do it."
Cedric hesitated.
Wise saw the tension snap into his frame. He looked at the chair. He looked at her. The idea of having someone behind him—someone touching him, out of his line of sight—clearly terrified him. He looked like a cornered animal deciding whether to bolt.
Wise didn't push. She just waited, holding the dryer loosely, keeping her body language non-threatening.
Finally, after a long, internal debate, he slowly turned his chair so his back was to her. His shoulders were hiked up to his ears, his spine rigid as a board.
"Relax." Wise said softly.
She turned on the dryer to the lowest setting. She aimed it at her own palm first, testing the heat against her skin to make sure it wasn't too intense. Once she was satisfied, she moved closer.
She reached out and touched his hair.
He flinched. A sharp, physical recoil that vibrated through his whole body.
Wise froze.
But she didn't apologize; that would only make it a bigger deal. She just paused, letting him realize she wasn't going to hurt him. Then, she continued, moving slower, more deliberately.
She ran her fingers gently through his damp, black hair. It was surprisingly soft. She was careful, almost methodical. She lifted the heavy strands, letting the warm air circulate underneath. When she encountered a knot, she didn't pull or yank. She paused, working it loose with patient, rhythmic movements.
Whirrrrrrr.
The white noise of the dryer filled the room, drowning out the distant sounds of the city outside, drowning out the awkwardness between them.
Hot air blasted against his neck. It was warm.
Wise watched him closely.
Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, she felt the tension bleed out of his frame. His shoulders dropped an inch. Then another. His head tipped forward slightly, submitting to the warmth.
He wasn't flinching anymore. He was leaning into her hand, just a fraction.
Wise looked at the back of his neck, exposed and vulnerable. He looked so small in the chair.
And for a moment, in the warmth of the loft, the ghost of Carol Arna didn't feel so heavy. Because this, at least, was something she could fix. She couldn't save the world, but she could dry a wet, lonely kid's hair.
***
Whirrrrrrr.
The white noise of the dryer filled the room, creating a bubble of warmth around them. Wise focused on her task, lifting the heavy sections of his hair to let the air reach the roots. It was a rhythmic, almost meditative process.
"Wise."
His voice was quiet, barely audible over the hum of the machine.
Wise clicked the dryer off. The sudden silence was heavy, broken only by the faint whir of her computer fans.
"Yes?" she asked, her hand still resting lightly near his hair.
Cedric sat perfectly still, his back to her. His shoulders were tense, raised slightly as if he were bracing for a blow. He hesitated for a long moment.
"Can you..." he started, his voice faltering before finding its footing again. "Can you be my friend?"
Wise blinked. She stared at the back of his head, genuinely taken aback.
'Friend?'
She had nearly run him over, bought him ramens, dragged him to her house and was currently standing in her bedroom drying his hair like he was a lost child.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. It wasn't a polite smile; it was real, amused warmth.
"Cedric." she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I bought you lunch. I brought you home. I am currently drying your hair. What do you think I'm going to say?"
Cedric remained silent. His shoulders dropped an inch, the tension bleeding out.
"So... yes?" he asked cautiously.
"Of course." Wise said. "But..."
A mischievous thought crossed her mind. Maybe it was Belle's influence, or maybe it was just how serious he looked sitting there, but she felt a sudden urge to tease him.
"Being friends isn't hard…" she said, adopting a mock-serious tone. "But I have a condition."
Cedric turned his head slightly, just enough to show his profile. His purple eye was wide with wariness. "Condition?"
Wise smiled, pointing a finger at herself.
"From now on," she declared, "you have to call me 'Big Sister'."
Cedric froze.
His face went completely empty with confusion. He looked at her as if she had just asked him to fix a corrupted file using an abacus. His mouth opened slightly, then closed. He blinked, processing the information, but his processor seemed to be lagging.
'How cute.' Wise thought, fighting the urge to pinch his cheek.
'He actually has no idea how to react.'
"Well?" she prompted.
Cedric swallowed. He stared into the middle distance, his expression one of someone accepting a bizarre but undeniable fact of the universe.
"Sister..." he mumbled, the word clumsy and quiet. "Big Sister Wise."
Wise beamed. It was adorable.
"Deal." she said, her voice soft. "We're friends. Now turn back around, you're still damp."
She turned the dryer back on, hiding her grin behind the noise.
…
…
…
Ten minutes later, the dryer clicked off for the final time.
Wise ran her fingers through his hair one last time. It was smooth now, falling around his face in a soft, clean curtain.
"Done." she announced, unplugging the device. "Did you watch what I did?"
Cedric turned in the chair and shook his head.
Wise sighed, but it was a patient sound. She held up the dryer.
"Look. This switch is for power. This one is for heat. Always test the air on your hand before you aim it at your head, okay? You don't want to burn your scalp."
Cedric nodded, his eyes tracking her finger.
"And one more thing," Wise added, her tone becoming managerial.
"I could dry it straight away this time because the wind outside had already done half the work. But usually, after you shower, you have to use a towel first. Don't just blast soaking wet hair with heat. It damages it. Understand?"
"Yes." Cedric said. "Towel first."
Wise looked at him. 'He says that, but does he even has a towel?'
"Wait here."
She walked over to her closet and rummaged around in the bottom drawer. She found a sturdy canvas tote bag. Then, she opened her linen drawer to look for a towel.
She frowned slightly. She didn't have any brand-new ones left in the plastic packaging—Belle had probably raided the supply for one of her projects.
She pulled out a fluffy, grey bath towel. It wasn't brand new—she had used it a few times herself—but it was freshly washed, soft, and still looked practically new.
'This should be fine.' she thought with a nonchalant shrug. 'It's clean and it dries water. That's all that matters.'
She folded the towel and tossed it into the bag, nestling the old black hairdryer on top of it.
"Here." she said, handing the bag to him. "Take this. Use it."
Cedric took the bag. He held it against his chest with both arms, looking at her with that strange, unreadable expression again.
"Come on." she said gently. "I'll walk you out."
They descended the metal stairs. The moment they stepped onto the shop floor, the peace was shattered.
Belle was sitting on the reception counter, swinging her legs. When she saw them, a grin that could only be described as 'wicked' split her face.
"Well, well, well," Belle drawled, hopping down.
"Look who emerged from the bedroom. That was quick. I expected you guys to be up there longer." She winked at Wise.
"Did you... 'dry' him out, sis?"
Wise felt a vein in her temple throb. "Belle. Not a word. I mean it."
"I didn't say anything!" Belle laughed, circling Cedric.
"Wow. Look at that. You clean up nice. Silky smooth. My sister has magic hands, doesn't she?"
Cedric ignored Belle completely. He turned to Wise, clutching the canvas bag tighter.
"I will go now." Cedric bowing his head slightly to Wise.
"Right." Wise said, ignoring Belle's sputtering in the background. She walked him to the door. Before he could step out, she placed a hand on the doorframe.
"Cedric."
He stopped and looked back.
"I live right here." she said, her voice firm and kind. "Random Play is open all day. If you need anything... or if you 'forget' something again... just come back. Okay?"
Cedric looked at her. He looked at the bag in his arms. Then he nodded.
"Okay. Goodbye."
He stepped out into the afternoon sun. Wise watched him walk away, his figure less hunched than before, looking a little less like a ghost and a little more like a boy.
She watched him until he was a few steps away from her, then she stepped back inside and prepared to close the door.
"Sister."
The voice stopped her hand. She pulled the door open again.
Cedric had stopped and turned back to face her. The wind blew his now-dry hair across his face. His purple eyes looked directly into hers.
"Thank you." he said.
It was simple. But it was clear.
Wise smiled.
"Mhm."
She nodded once. Cedric turned and walked away. Wise watched him go for a moment longer, then gently closed the door.
…
…
…
Wise stood by the closed door for a moment, listening to the fading sound of footsteps outside. The shop was quiet again, save for the low hum of the air conditioning.
She turned around.
Belle was still sitting on the reception counter, but the mischievous grin had faded slightly. She was swinging her legs, her expression thoughtful, almost calculating.
"You know?" Belle said, her voice losing its usual theatrical flair. "I was joking before, but... seriously, Wise? Bringing a random kid upstairs? That's not like you."
Wise walked over to the counter and leaned against it, crossing her arms. "He needed help."
"Lots of people need help." Belle countered gently.
"We usually help them through the HDD system. We don't bring them into our bedroom. You're the paranoid one, remember? You're the one who triple-encrypts our grocery lists."
Belle hopped off the counter and stood in front of her sister. Her dark aqua eyes searched Wise's face.
"You never invite strangers upstairs." Belle said softly. "Why him?"
Wise looked away, staring at the rows of VHS tapes on the shelf. Why him? It was a valid question. It was a security risk.
But then she remembered the way he had stood on the street, shivering in the cold wind with his wet hair. The way he had eaten the ramens as if shielding them from an invisible thief. The absolute, crushing emptiness in those purple eyes.
"He..." Wise started, then hesitated. "He looked like a ghost."
Belle tilted her head. "A ghost?"
"He looked like us." Wise admitted quietly. "Back then. Cold. Wet. Waiting for someone to come back who never would."
She looked back at Belle.
"When I looked at him, I didn't see a stranger. I saw myself standing outside Helios. I couldn't leave him there, Belle. I just... couldn't."
Belle stared at her sister for a long moment.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with shared memories of ash and loss. Then, Belle's expression softened. She reached out and squeezed Wise's arm.
"Okay." Belle whispered. "I get it."
For a second, the air was somber, filled with the weight of their past.
Then, a slow, wicked grin spread across Belle's face, shattering the mood instantly.
"So..." she drawled, her eyes sparkling with mischief again.
"Since you're projecting all this tragic backstory onto him... does that mean you're taking the 'Big Sister' role seriously?"
Wise narrowed her eyes. "Belle..."
"I mean, he called you 'Sister' when he said thank you!" Belle giggled, poking Wise in the ribs.
"It was so adorable! You better live up to the title, sis. Be a good influence. Make sure he eats his veggies."
Belle leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Just make sure you 'stay' a sister, okay? Don't go getting any weird ideas. I don't want to walk in one day and find you pinning him down on the sofa and—"
Bonk.
"OW!"
Belle yelped, clutching the top of her head where Wise had delivered a swift, precise chop with the side of her hand.
"That's enough." Wise said, her face flushing red, though her voice was deadly calm.
"You have been watching too many late-night dramas."
"Violence! Domestic violence!" Belle cried, backing away while rubbing her head. "Help! The Manager is abusing her power!"
"I'll show you abuse of power." Wise threatened, rolling up her sleeves as she advanced on her sister.
"Come here. I think it's time to reformat your hard drive."
"Eep! No! Please mercy!"
Belle shrieked and bolted toward the break room, laughing maniacally. Wise chased after her, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her exhaustion.
The gloomy atmosphere vanished, replaced by the noise, chaos and warmth of the present.
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Note: If you guys are wondering why there were parts where Cedric offered to be friends, Sister, said thanks when he left. Well...it just simply because I wanted to finish Wise's POV first and then continue with Cedric's POV later.