Another morning. Another feeling of disappointment as you stood in front of your refrigerator, staring at the shelves in disbelief. Everything was perfectly in place—meticulously arranged like always—except for one thing.

The vanilla pudding.

It was missing, again.

That familiar plastic cup, once tucked safely in the back corner of the refrigerator like a hidden treasure, was missing.

For the twentieth time this month, the vanilla pudding had vanished without a trace. At first, you chalked it up to forgetfulness, perhaps a side effect of working late into the night or a foggy memory from exhaustion. Maybe you had eaten it and simply didn’t remember.

But now? It was happening too often. The unsettling pattern gnawed at your thoughts like a slow leak in your logic. It wasn’t just in your head anymore—someone was stealing your pudding.

You couldn’t take it lightly any longer.

While you and Ruan Mei examine through data together at Herta’s Space Station later that day, you brought it up. Not as a joke, but with a genuine hint of frustration.

“Hm? You could always stay up and see for yourself.”

She replied, voice airy and unbothered, eyes still glued to the holographic display before her. She barely spared a glance in your direction, her attention clearly tethered to the data presented before her.

Still, her indifferent suggestion stuck with you. That night, you made up your mind.

As the station’s artificial clock ticked past midnight, you quietly maneuvered into the hallway, bringing your worn-out baseball bat—just in case you needed it for protection.

The air was unnervingly still. The usual soft hum of the space station’s systems are now completely silent.

You moved with caution, each step muffled by the cold metal beneath your feet.

The kitchen wasn’t far—it was a compact space, designed solely for your use. As soon as you arrived, you kept silent, pausing to consider your next move.

You pressed yourself into a corner, half-concealed behind a shelving unit, gripping your bat tighter.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then, at last, a sound broke the silence—footsteps.

A figure stepped into the kitchen, cloaked in darkness. Their movements were purposeful. You couldn’t make out their face, but they didn’t seem lost—they moved as if they already knew the place you reside in.

But no one else should be here.

You live alone in this part of the station, a section built specifically for you. The other members of the Genius Society are housed elsewhere. This place is yours—designed to be more secluded.

Your breath caught in your throat as the figure reached the fridge.

And when the fridge door swung open, casting a beam of pale light into the darkness, you saw it—fingers reaching straight for your pudding.

Honestly, all you cared about was the pudding.

You lunged forward, swinging your baseball bat in a sudden burst of motion—but the figure quickly stepped back, avoiding the blow. Breathing heavily, you retreated a step, narrowing your eyes to get a clearer look at the intruder.

It was Ruan Mei.

She stood perfectly still, a vanilla pudding cup in hand, gazing at you with a mildly puzzled expression. To make matters worse, your missed swing had slammed against the fridge, leaving a dent.

“Yes?”

She asked, calm and composed, as if you were the one intruding on her.

The audacity. You should’ve been the one asking questions—like why she was here, stealing pudding from your fridge in the middle of the night.

You let out a sigh, standing still as you dropped the baseball bat to the floor—a silent gesture that you meant no harm.