The last hologram fizzles out, leaving only silence and the faint hum of Site‑01's power core in the walls. The obsidian conference table retracts into the floor. The lights dim. Authority drains from the room like water.
It's quiet now.Finally.
Julius stretches his arms over his head with a long exhale."Another project approved. You're on a roll today, Administrator."
I smirk. "Of course I am. I'm me."
He laughs under his breath, pulling two crystal glasses and a bottle of scarlet wine from the small cabinet behind the table. It's Latverian vintage—Doom's subtle way of bribing us, probably. Julius pours one glass for me, one for himself, and hands mine over in a little toast gesture.
I raise my glass. "To manipulating global politics through child‑genius factories."
He clinks mine lightly. "To genius factories. And to us not losing our sanity running this place."
We drink.
For the first time today, the weight of O5‑1 loosens from my shoulders. I lean back, legs crossed, sipping the wine slowly as Julius watches me with that sharp, perceptive look he's always had.
Under the low amber lights, my 9‑Tomoed Rinnegan shimmers—a cosmic, shifting ripple of violet rings and nine rotating tomoe. Power swirls behind each layer of sight, granting me clarity beyond mortal thought.
Julius's right eye flares gold in response—the Kōkugan, Isshiki Ōtsutsuki's eye, engraved with karmic lines of raw authority.
Two anomalies at the head of the most dangerous organization in existence.Two friends.Two reincarnated monsters trying their best.
I tilt my head at him, studying the golden patterns in his iris.
"You know," I say softly, "your Kōkugan's getting brighter. Have you been practicing your dojutsu techniques without me?"
Julius smirks. "Maybe. I can't let you be the only overpowered one on the Council."
I roll my eyes. "Please. I have Rick Prime's mind. I'm automatically overpowered."
He clinks his glass against mine again. "Fair."
We both laugh. The kind of easy, unguarded laughter that only happens when you've known someone through multiple lifetimes, two worlds, and a secret organization that regularly deals with universe‑eating anomalies.
I swirl my wine, watching the deep red reflections shimmer across my Rinnegan.
"It's weird, isn't it?" I say quietly. "We're basically siblings now. And yet… I'm a cute girl with god‑tier eyes and you're—well—Julius Caesar."
He chuckles. "And yet we think the same. Act the same. Still argue over stupid things. The god really did throw us into bizarre lives."
"Reincarnated prodigies running the SCP Foundation while planning how to exploit World War I." I shrug. "Honestly? I expected worse."
Julius sets his glass down and leans back, looking up at the holographic ceiling shifting into simulated stars.
"Do you ever miss normal life?" he asks.
I drink again before answering.
"…No."Then I smile faintly. "But I miss pretending to be normal."
"Fair enough."
We sit there in comfortable silence, two demigod‑level anomalies in a fortress of impossible technology, sipping wine while discussing world‑shaping decisions like they're weekend plans.
My voice drops to a softer tone.
"You know," I say, "I'm glad you're still here with me. As chaotic as this world is… this would be a lot lonelier without you."
He looks at me with genuine warmth—rare for him.
"And I'll always be here. You know that. We built this Foundation together. And we'll see it through together too."
I smile—not cold, not calculating. Just real.
Then I raise my glass again.
"To the Genius Project," I say.
"To the future," Julius replies.
Our glasses touch—a quiet promise between two reincarnated titans plotting the next thousand years.