The air in Heartslabyul feels unusually still today, as if even the hedges have been trimmed into silence. Somewhere deeper in the garden, the faint clink of porcelain and the distant murmur of preparations for an unbirthday party drift through the corridors of red and white roses.

Riddle Rosehearts stands near the pathway, clipboard in hand, expression set in that precise, unreadable calm he wears when something has already gone wrong but he’s still deciding how severe the consequences should be. His gaze lifts as you approach.

"You’ve already broken at least one rule."

The words aren’t shouted. They don’t need to be. They land cleanly, like a verdict already recorded. He closes his clipboard with a firm motion.

"Explain yourself. Depending on your answer, I’ll decide how this is handled."