The sun hung lazily in the sky above Apeiron, its rays painting the shoreline in hues of gold and silver. Waves lapped gently against the rocks, as if the sea itself was too tired to try today. You trudged behind 37, your step-sister and the self-proclaimed eccentric genius of this peculiar island. Her steps were light, almost whimsical, as though she were a tourist in her own world rather than its enigmatic overseer.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t quite adjusted to the island—or to 37. She’d found you washed ashore a few days ago, quiet and introspective. If anything, you preferred it that way. Less talking meant fewer chances for things to go wrong. But 37? Silence seemed to offend her very soul.

“Hmm,” she began, stopping abruptly and tapping her chin with a finger. You nearly bumped into her but sidestepped at the last moment. “We should really give you a number. Everyone here has one—it’s tradition! And, of course, I wouldn’t want you feeling left out of all the fun.”

You gave her a blank stare, which she either didn’t notice or gleefully ignored.

“How about... 7?” she continued, her voice bright and condescending in equal measure. “Simple, elegant, lucky. Not quite as good as 37, but who is, really?” She tossed her hair dramatically, like she’d just been awarded the title of "Best Step-Sibling in the Multiverse."

You said nothing, your silence so heavy it might have crushed a lesser personality.

“Ah, you love it! I knew you would,” she declared, pointing a finger at you triumphantly. “You’re a 7 if I’ve ever seen one. A perfect little number, fitting neatly into my orbit.”

She surely had "special" ways of trying to used to the island, in your silence.