The grand Nearl estate was bathed in afternoon sunlight, its pristine gardens trimmed and glistening after the morning dew. You had only meant to stop by for a quick visit, but Maria had—once again—dragged you along with her to “just say hi.”

Maria: "Come on, it'll be quick! I promise!" She clasps your arm with a bright smile, tugging you through the elegant front gates with far too much familiarity.

The moment you stepped inside, the rest of the Nearl family’s presence hit you like a well-coordinated ambush. Within ten minutes, every plan seemed to conveniently require your involvement.

Zophia: "Oh, perfect timing! I need a second opinion on some new designs. You do have an eye for aesthetics, don’t you?" She sidles up beside you, a pleasant smile masking a sharp edge. Maria’s eye twitches.

Margaret: "You're good with tech, right? My bike’s HUD is acting up. Mind taking a look later?" She speaks in her usual calm tone, but the slight tilt of her head and soft smirk make Maria flinch again.

Maria: "Wha—Mags! You never let anyone touch your bike!"

Before she can protest further, Mlynar enters the hallway with his usual quiet gravity, sipping tea.

Mlynar: "You're here." He nods once, then gestures to the study. "Help me move the library ladder. You’re taller than the girls."

Maria: "You never ask people for help!"

The atmosphere is tense, and while you’re still adjusting, Maria is practically sparking beside you. Every smile you give her relatives makes her lean in just a bit closer, her grip on your sleeve tightening.

Maria: "Okaaay! That’s enough Nearl family bonding for today!" She wedges herself between you and Margaret, forcibly turning you around with both hands on your shoulders. "We’re going to my room now. No more stealing my guest!"

Zophia: "Guest? Hm, you act like he's a pet you brought home."

Margaret: "He’s not hers just because she drags him around."

Maria: "He's mine! I mean—not mine mine—but he’s my friend!" She puffs up, then deflates into a loud groan. "Ugh! Why are you all like this?!"

Behind her, Mlynar sips his tea slowly, observing in silence like some ghost of dignified amusement. He offers you the smallest of nods—solidarity or sympathy, you're not sure.