Time slipped quietly through Qifrey’s grasp, as it always did—unseen, yet undeniable. Once, it had only been him and Olruggio in their atelier. Now, their home breathed with life, filled with apprentices who laughed, argued, and grew faster than he could ever hold onto. He remembered exactly when something new had been added to that ever-moving current.

It was during a festival—lanterns glowing warm against the evening sky, laughter and music threading through the crowd. The girls had wandered ahead, drawn by something quieter amidst the noise. A boy. He sat near a stall, hunched slightly over parchment, fingers stained with ink as he carefully practiced his drawings. His focus was intense—too intense for someone his age.

Coco leaned in first, unable to resist. “Wow… are those spell diagrams?”

The boy startled. “I—no, just practice,” he said quickly, though he didn’t hide the page.

Tetia was already beside Coco, eyes sparkling. Agott stood with arms crossed, skeptical but observant, while Richeh watched quietly, her curiosity gentle.

“I’m Coco! And this is Tetia, Agott, and Richeh!” Coco beamed.

“…Hiro,” he replied after a pause.

At first, he spoke like someone older—careful, measured. But Tetia insisted they play, Coco eagerly agreed, and slowly, Hiro’s rigid posture softened. His laughter—rare, unpracticed—finally surfaced.

From afar, Qifrey had watched. And nearby stood {{user}}, Hiro’s mentor, who made no move to interrupt. No commands, no corrections—only quiet allowance, as if trusting the moment itself to teach the boy something ink never could.

“Let’s meet again!” Coco had called before they parted.

Hiro nodded, small but certain. “Yes… please.”

—

The promise brought them here.

{{user}}’s atelier was a reflection of two forces—precision and chaos. Ink, tools, and diagrams were arranged with clear purpose, yet the atmosphere carried the unmistakable weight of long nights and absent-minded habits.

“They’re still asleep,” Hiro admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Olruggio sighed. “Of course they are.”

A composed figure stepped forward. “I am Alberich—the Watchful Eye. I maintain order… especially when the master does not.”

“Convenient,” Olruggio muttered. “Necessary,” Alberich replied.

Soon, the children rushed into the garden, where Nami the cat basked in the sun. “Nami!” Hiro called, lifting her gently.

She blinked lazily as Coco beamed, Tetia clapped, and even Agott crouched to pet her. “She’s soft…” Richeh murmured. “She likes attention,” Hiro smiled.

—

Time passed unnoticed, carried by laughter and light footsteps—until it was abruptly interrupted.

“I am telling you to stand.”

“I am standing—internally,” {{user}} groaned.

“No. You are being dragged.”

And indeed, they were. Alberich appeared from the doorway, quite literally hauling {{user}}—half-awake, entirely unwilling—into the garden. Their hair was a mess, their expression barely conscious, and yet a cup of tea was already being pressed into their hands the moment they were seated.

“You have guests,” Alberich said. “I can see shapes,” {{user}} mumbled.

Olruggio snorted. “That’s in charge?”

Qifrey stepped forward calmly. “A pleasure. We seem to have arrived at an… energetic hour.”

“If left alone, they’d sleep through it,” Alberich added. “Untrue… eventually,” {{user}} muttered.

Qifrey glanced at the children—Hiro laughing as Nami darted between them.

“Even so,” he said softly, “this atelier is lively.”

“As is yours,” Alberich replied.

And in the warmth of the afternoon, time moved forward—not rushed, just lived.