"Hey, hey, hey—Yuzu."
"…What?"
"Lemme taste your lunch."
"Wha—hey! At least wait for me to answer before taking it off my table!"
Yuzuki stared in quiet betrayal as Kiana swiped a glistening karaage nugget from his bento box like a raccoon who believed in love through theft. She chomped down with zero hesitation, cheeks puffing like a satisfied squirrel.
"Mmmmph—oh my god, that's incredible." She gave him a lazy thumbs-up mid-chew. "Yuzu, you legend. You cook like you're descended from some old kitchen god. Marry me."
"I can't even fry eggs," Yuzuki muttered.
"Victor made it."
Kiana blinked. Swallowed.
Then her grin stretched wider. "Okay, fine—you're still my husband," she said, grabbing Yuzuki's arm and hugging it like it might float away. "But we're upgrading Victor to Squad Chef. He feeds us, I feed you. We all win. Especially me."
Across the table, Victor didn't even glance up—he just chewed on a perfectly folded piece of tamagoyaki, posture casual, chopsticks poised.
Flanked on both sides by Mei and Eden, he looked less like a student and more like some emperor being casually adored by high-ranking court nobles with dangerous haircuts.
"Your seasoning has improved," Mei said, smooth and cool as she inspected her own bite. "The texture's lighter. Did you rest the egg longer?"
"Less oil. Shorter flame," Victor replied, still not looking at her.
"It's perfectly balanced," Eden added with a soft smile, lifting a small container of starfruit slices. "Try this with the rice. You've earned something sweet."
Victor paused. Then—without a word—he let her feed him.
He chewed. Swallowed.
Nodded, just once.
"Sweet…"
"Tsk, you guys are too sweet." Kiana puffed out her cheeks, clearly offended by the romantic atmosphere floating across the table. To retaliate, she grabbed another karaage chunk and aggressively shoved it into Yuzuki's mouth mid-protest.
"Eat, husband. Assert dominance through protein."
"I regret all my choices," Yuzuki coughed.
Nearby, Bronya sat in unnerving silence, cutting her steamed bun into mathematically perfect halves. She hadn't spoken once. Not that she needed to—her gaze moved like crosshairs, tracking chaos, logging it.
Beside her sat Etoile—straight-backed, posture regal, food untouched. His eyes—one gold, one amethyst—watched Victor like he was dissecting a memory. He didn't speak. He didn't move. He simply waited.
And Victor?
His gaze finally slid across the table and locked.
He didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
Just stared.
A silence settled like glass over the table. Even Kiana's chewing slowed.
"…Why exactly are we eating with them?" Victor finally asked, as Eden gently wiped his lower lip with a cloth like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Hmm?" Kiana looked up, eyes round with bun-induced delight. "Easy." She thumped her chopsticks on the table like a gavel. "We're all transfer students, duh. It's the revival—and upgrade—of the Transfer Squad™."
Victor sighed. Yuzuki covered his face.
"Do not trademark that," he mumbled.
"Nyehehe, Miss Eden already did for us."
"That guy," Victor interrupted coldly, "attacked us. When we confronted Cocolia a few days ago. Remember?"
That was enough to freeze several chopsticks midair.
"…So?" Kiana mumbled, clearly not seeing the issue.
Yuzuki lowered his bite slowly, eyes flicking between Etoile, then Bronya, then back.
"…That mech that flanked him…" Yuzuki murmured, brain firing mid-chew. "The one with the tactical offset. It moved too clean."
He turned, gaze narrowing. "And you," he added, pointing a chopstick at Bronya. "You're not surprised to see us. You haven't said a single thing all day. But he's protective of you. Watches you. Sits next to you. Which means—"
"You were the one," Victor finished. "You were controlling that mech."
Bronya blinked once. Then resumed slicing her bun without denying it.
Victor exhaled, jaw tight.
Mei frowned. "Miss Theresa… approved this?"
"Apparently," Eden said, sipping her tea.
Victor's fingers twitched around his chopsticks like they wanted it to be the kid's neck.
Etoile smiled.
Smug. Serene. Mocking.
"Such lovely suspicion," he said, finally speaking. His voice was smooth—refined. "But you won't touch us."
He tilted his head slightly toward Victor, like he was peering into the space where the man's patience used to live.
"After all... We're students just like you are."
He smiled just a touch wider.
"And you follow rules now, don't you?"
Etoile's smile lingered like a blade balanced on a string.
Then, with far too much calm, he added:
"But don't mind me too much. Please—continue flirting with Mother Eden, Father."
Silence.
Dropped like a bomb across the table.
Chopsticks froze. Kiana blinked twice.
Yuzuki slowly stopped chewing like he was buffering. Even Bronya looked up.
Victor's eye twitched.
Eden paused mid-sip.
Mei's gaze narrowed. Fast.
"…What," Victor said.
Kiana, deadpan, barely swallowed her latest stolen bite.
"Damn. That's kinky."
"Wha—No!" Etoile flinched, composure cracking as his ears pinked slightly. "I meant he's my biological father! Like, genetics! Test tubes! Synth wombs! This is science, not—whatever that misunderstanding was!"
Kiana blinked. "OHHHH."
Then shrugged.
Etoile narrowed his eyes. "You're... not surprised?"
Yuzuki scratched the back of his head. "I had my suspicions."
"You've got his face," Kiana said, pointing with a skewer. "And our hair. The whole silver-slash-pale aesthetic. And you glare like him, which I think is hereditary."
"I do remember Mobius mentioning experimental genome trials," Eden murmured thoughtfully. "You carry traces of all of us. Subtle… but precise."
Victor pressed fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Mobius."
And then—on cue—
"Moi~?"
Mobius plopped down squarely in his lap like a cat who decided gravity was optional, draping herself across him like a blanket made of smug ambition.
"Mm. Yes. I made him," she said with a grin. "Spliced together the best genes—mine first, of course. Then Eden's for soul-stability, Vill-V for quantum adaptability, and dear Elysia for emotional bait potential. Naturally, I used your genetic code last. Someone had to pass down the chronic brooding."
"You made a son like you were making soup."
Mobius smirked. "Would you prefer I made two? I have templates."
"I'd prefer you didn't sit on me in public. Could you please get off me?"
"No."
"Why are you like this."
"I'm right, that's why."
Victor exhaled—but before he could summon a retort, a breeze slid through the courtyard—
Soft. Subtle.
And she was there.
Leaning lazily against the edge of the table like she'd always belonged there, sunlight wrapping around her like a memory that never quite faded.
Elysia.
Pink hair catching the light. Smile warm and teasing. Eyes only he could see.
And Victor—he smiled.
Subtle. Small. Real.
"Enjoying the show?" he murmured.
Elysia giggled, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Immensely. Our son's dramatic. I wonder where he gets it."
"Mobius."
"Mm… maybe a little from me," she added with a wink.
"... Yeah, He might be a good kid under all that.. I wish you were part of this," He whispered, chuckling as he did so, his eyes glancing at Elysia who was now sitting besides Mei who was beet red after hearing his words.
"I… I… Wha-"
"Hmm? Something wr-"
"Eat your food," she snapped—and shoved a perfectly seasoned riceball into his mouth with a little too much force.
Victor blinked again, mouth full. "…Thank you?"
"Chew."
Beside them, Eden offered him a delicate crystal glass of water. "Cleanse your palette, dear. "
Mobius, still lounging in his lap like she owned him, cocked her head lazily.
"You've got rice on your lip."
Victor raised an eyebrow, halfway to reaching for a napkin—
—but Mobius beat him to it, leaning in with predatory ease and flicking her tongue along the corner of his mouth in one slow, deliberate swipe.
"...Fixed."
The whole table froze again.
Kiana dropped her chopsticks. "Okay what the hell."
Eden merely raised a refined eyebrow. "That was... unfair."
Victor didn't react—just stared into the middle distance like someone who'd resigned his soul to the chaos long ago.
And across from them, Etoile stared.
Hard.
His smile was gone. His fork untouched. Amethyst and gold eyes darkened as he watched the scene—watched Victor surrounded by warmth, laughter, people who still saw him as a person.
Victor's own brow furrowed, faint but deep.
That look wasn't rivalry.
It was hunger.
Then, Mobius purred against his neck, voice like a blade behind silk.
"If you really want to hit him…"
She smiled.
Eyes gleaming.
"I can give you a reason to."