The kitchen is already moving when they walk in.
Not loud, not chaotic. Just full. Water running, knives hitting wood, the low murmur of people doing something together without needing to coordinate it out loud. The smell of onions and something warm wraps around the room.
It feels… normal.
Almost suspiciously so.
Ami steps in first, scanning without appearing to. Who's where, what's missing, where she could slip in without shifting the balance. Marianne follows, quieter, already reaching for something to do.
Ishtar is cutting vegetables with clean, precise movements. Aglaë peels carrots beside her, slower, careful, fully present in each gesture. Octave leans against the counter, doing very little, noticing everything. Ludwig moves near the stove, adjusting something without looking like he's paying attention.
Ami takes a knife.
Turns it once in her hand.
Looks at the pile of vegetables like she's evaluating a problem she doesn't care to solve.
Then she exhales softly, and the decision happens somewhere deeper than thought.
She sets the knife down.
Not abruptly. Just… not hers anymore.
"Mm. No."
The tone shifts with it. Lighter. Softer. Warmer in a way that doesn't try to convince anyone.
The girl looks at her hands like they're new.
A small smile appears, almost amused.
"I think I'll let someone else handle that part."
She glances at the vegetables again, then back at the room, eyes brighter now.
"I've been told this is supposed to be enjoyable. I'd like to verify."
Aglaë looks up first.
There's no confusion in her face. Just a quiet recognition of something that feels… familiar, even if she can't name it.
Alice steps closer, picks up a carrot, turning it between her fingers like it's something delicate instead of something to peel.
"So this is what normal life looks like," she murmurs.
There's no bitterness in it. Just curiosity, almost childlike but not naïve.
Ishtar gives her a quick glance, measuring, then goes back to cutting. Octave's attention sharpens just enough to notice the difference. Marianne doesn't react outwardly at all, but she's watching.
Alice finds the peeler, tests it, then lets out a soft laugh when it works.
"That's… unexpectedly satisfying."
Aglaë smiles without thinking.
"Yeah. It is."
Alice looks at her, genuinely interested.
"You've done this before?"
Aglaë nods. "A lot."
Alice studies her for a second, then her smile softens.
"That makes sense."
Something in the room loosens.
Not dramatically. Just enough that breathing feels easier.
Alice keeps going, slower than everyone else, but focused in her own way. Not efficient. Present. Like every small action matters because she's never had it before.
"Once," she says suddenly, almost casually, "we nearly canceled a show because of a banana."
Ishtar pauses for half a second. Octave's eyebrow lifts just slightly.
Alice smiles to herself.
"Food poisoning. Absolute chaos. Doctors, managers, everyone panicking like the world was ending."
Aglaë stops moving.
The peeler stays in her hand, mid-motion.
"That concert…" she says, quieter now.
Alice looks at her.
"You were there?"
Aglaë nods, a little breath leaving her.
"They said you wouldn't come out. People were already starting to leave."
Alice tilts her head, listening.
"But then everything went dark," Aglaë continues. "And the first notes started…"
Something in Alice stills.
"Welcome, Beautiful."
The name settles into the room like something remembered rather than said.
Aglaë looks at her, not dazzled, not distant.
Close.
"You walked out like nothing had happened," she says. "Like none of it touched you."
A pause.
"You were too beautiful to be real."
Alice doesn't answer right away.
She looks down at the carrot in her hand.
Then, slowly, she lifts it.
Holds it like a microphone.
There's a flicker in her expression. Not performance. Not entirely.
Memory.
She inhales, and when she sings, it's quieter than it must have been back then. Softer. Less controlled.
"You walked alone through silent streets…"
The room shifts.
No one decides to stop moving. They just… do.
Even Ishtar's knife goes still. Even Ludwig turns his head, just slightly.
Alice's voice isn't perfect.
It doesn't need to be.
"Welcome, beautiful… you finally made it home…"
Something in the words lands differently here, in this room, in this moment. Warmer. Closer. Almost… true.
Aglaë's eyes don't leave her.
For a second, she's not in the kitchen anymore.
She's back there. Lights, sound, that impossible entrance.
And this time, it feels even more real.
Inside Mia's mind, though—
something else hears it.
Not the warmth.
Not the comfort.
The structure.
The pattern.
The hook.
Mircalla stirs.
Not abruptly.
Not violently.
Just… awake.
Attentive.
Interested.
Alice keeps singing, soft, effortless, the room held in that fragile suspension where everything feels simple.
And beneath it, something begins to move.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Waiting for the moment no one is looking.