Nobody moved.
The room looked like a crime scene.
Broken lamp.
Splintered wood.
One wall cracked near the bed.
Octave leaned against the doorframe breathing carefully through the pain in his ribs. Aglaë stood frozen near the overturned chair, eyes red, hands shaking so badly she kept clenching them without realizing it.
Ishtar remained perfectly still.
Watching Mia.
Or rather—
watching whatever was standing inside Mia now.
Lilith slowly straightened.
No panic.
No confusion.
The violence had vanished from her posture as completely as it had appeared. One second earlier the room had contained a terrified animal ready to kill.
Now it contained something colder.
Older.
Controlled.
Her black hair fell across part of her face as she rolled her neck once, calm and deliberate, like she had just arrived late to an exhausting conversation.
Then she sighed.
Long.
Annoyed.
"…Well," she muttered softly. "That went badly."
The contrast was so abrupt nobody reacted immediately.
Aglaë blinked.
Octave stared.
Ishtar narrowed her eyes.
Lilith looked around the destroyed room.
Then directly at Ishtar.
"You touched her."
Not accusation.
Observation.
Ishtar folded her arms slowly despite the bruise already darkening beneath her sleeve.
"She didn't exactly send warning signals."
Lilith's gaze sharpened instantly.
"She did," she replied. "You just wanted them to mean something else."
Silence.
Heavy.
Accurate.
Ishtar didn't answer.
Couldn't, maybe.
Because part of her knew Lilith was right.
Lilith exhaled through her nose and rubbed briefly at her temple.
"She's overloaded," she said more quietly. "Noire came up too fast. The body followed. Then panic hit and the child system activated."
Aglaë swallowed hard.
"The… child system?"
Lilith looked toward her.
And for the first time since appearing, something in her expression softened slightly.
"The part that learned intimacy means danger."
Nobody in the room knew what to do with that sentence.
Especially because Lilith said it without drama.
Like someone explaining weather.
Octave straightened slowly from the wall despite the pain in his side.
"You're talking about yourselves like separate people again."
Lilith looked at him.
A faint smile appeared.
"We are separate people."
Octave opened his mouth—
then stopped.
Because arguing semantics suddenly felt deeply irrelevant compared to the shattered furniture and near-fatal reflexes.
Lilith glanced around the room once more.
Then muttered:
"Nope. Absolutely not my problem."
And just like that—
her entire posture changed.
Fast.
Too fast.
The predatory stillness vanished. Her shoulders loosened abruptly. Her expression blinked into confusion.
Then mild horror.
Ami looked around the room.
"…Why does it look like a lesbian tornado died in here?"
Silence.
A beat.
Aglaë made a small choking sound that might have been a laugh trying desperately not to exist.
Octave covered part of his face with one hand instantly.
Ishtar stared.
Ami blinked several times.
Then pointed vaguely at the broken wall.
"Oh come on. Was I asleep for another disaster?"
Nobody answered.
Ami looked at Mia's bruised knuckles.
At Octave's ribs.
At Ishtar's wrist.
At Aglaë's expression.
Then slowly pieced together enough information to become deeply uncomfortable.
"…Oh," Ami whispered.
Another pause.
Then:
"Oh no."
She dragged both hands over her face dramatically.
"I leave for like twenty minutes and apparently everyone starts emotionally speedrunning psychological collapse."
Aglaë actually laughed this time.
Tiny.
Fragile.
Mostly because if she didn't laugh, she might cry.
Ami immediately pointed at her.
"Nope. Don't do that. That means we've crossed into trauma bonding territory and nobody here is qualified for that conversation."
Octave let out one involuntary breath that sounded dangerously close to amusement.
Even Ishtar's mouth twitched slightly.
The tension cracked.
Not gone.
Never gone.
But fractured enough for breathing to resume.
Ami noticed immediately and relaxed a fraction herself.
Good.
Keep them talking. Keep them grounded.
That instinct didn't come from nowhere. Beneath the jokes, Ami was watching everyone carefully. Redirecting emotional momentum before another spiral could begin.
She turned toward Ishtar.
"So. Hypothetically speaking," she said carefully, "did we maybe touch the heavily traumatized dissociative superweapon without proper calibration?"
Ishtar grimaced slightly.
"…Maybe."
"Excellent. Fantastic survival strategy. Truly inspiring."
Aglaë covered her mouth, eyes wet again.
The emotional whiplash in the room had become surreal.
Nobody knew where to stand anymore.
Or where to look.
Ami finally glanced toward the mirror near the desk.
Toward herself.
Toward the face they all still called Mia.
And for the first time, her smile faded a little.
Because she could still feel the panic underneath.
The child's terror.
Noire's confusion.
Mia's shame beginning to rise back toward consciousness.
Ami inhaled quietly.
Then clapped her hands once.
"Okay," she announced. "New group activity. Everybody leaves before we psychologically reinvent violence."
That finally got movement.
Slowly.
Awkwardly.
Aglaë stood first.
Still visibly shaken.
Still looking at Mia with painful softness.
At the door, she hesitated.
Then turned back slightly.
Her voice was very small when she spoke.
"…I understand, you know."
Ami's expression changed instantly.
Not joking now.
Aglaë lowered her eyes.
"My body does things like that too sometimes," she admitted quietly. "Not the fighting part… but the fear part."
Silence again.
Different this time.
Human.
Ami looked at her carefully.
Then nodded once.
Gentle.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I know."
Aglaë swallowed hard and left quickly after that.
Octave followed next, slower than the others. He paused near the doorway just long enough to study Ami one last time.
Not suspicious.
Curious.
"You switch fast," he observed.
Ami smirked weakly.
"You have no idea."
Then he left too.
Only Ishtar remained for another second.
Her eyes met Ami's.
No hostility now.
Only guilt.
"I didn't want to hurt her," she said quietly.
Ami's smile disappeared completely.
"I know," she replied.
That seemed worse somehow.
Ishtar nodded once.
Then turned and walked out into the hallway.
The door closed softly behind her.
Silence returned.
Real silence this time.
Ami stood there for a few seconds without moving.
Then slowly—
very slowly—
the humor drained out of her posture.
Her shoulders lowered.
Her breathing changed.
And Mia came back.
The second she did, the shame hit.
Hard.
She looked at the destroyed room.
At her bruised hands.
At the crack in the wall.
A trembling breath escaped her.
Then another.
Her knees weakened suddenly.
Mia reached the door just in time to lock it before the first tear fell.