“This is… good. Yess. Yess. This one approves.” Chrysanthemum’s voice came out in a pleased trill as she tore into the stew and bread with reckless abandon, mandibles clicking faintly. Thick broth dribbled down the edges of her claws and splattered onto the plate below. She didn’t seem to notice or care; her four multi-faceted eyes were half-lidded in delight, antennae swaying in slow arcs as she ate.

Vicky beamed, her tail flicking behind her like an excited cat’s. “I’m glad.”

Jakira and Mera sat opposite, both dipping chunks of bread into their bowls. The orc bit into hers with an audible crunch and groaned happily. “This one isn’t so overspiced as the last one. Wow, I almost sound like some rich pomp complaining about too much spice!” she laughed.

“I like the strong flavours.” Mera’s voice was softer, but she smiled as she tore another piece of bread and swirled it through the broth. Then she glanced at the swarm queen, whose claws were slick with stew, mandibles dusted with crumbs. “How do you have so many spices?”

Vicky flicked her gaze to Chrys, curious herself.

“Oh, I have the…” Chrys started, then abruptly clamped her jaws shut. “No. Never mind about it.” She busied herself with scooping up another mouthful, as though the question had never been asked.

Vicky pushed her fork through her food without much enthusiasm, the conversation with Edward looping like a half-remembered song. Chrysanthemum turning into a human? It sounded too fantastical to be real—yet it wasn’t the wonder of it that made her uneasy. It was the implication.

She liked Chrys as she was. The swarm queen’s strange elegance, the clumsy way she tried to mimic gestures she’d seen the others use, the occasional glimmer of dry wit hidden behind insectoid cadence—all of it was Chrys. Cute, even, in her own way. Why would anyone want to erase that?

But Edward’s words had stuck: clearer thinking, a mind closer to what she once had, back when she was Alesha Retania. A human mind. Vicky had pushed back, of course. Not because she wanted Chrys to stay one way or the other, but because the decision mattered. More than Edward seemed to grasp.

She, Mera, Jakira… they all had weight in Chrys’s world. A kind of gravity the queen was pulled toward without resistance. Vicky doubted the others even realized how much power they held, how a stray opinion or casual reassurance could steer Chrys’s choices. That made it dangerous. The queen deserved a choice that was actually hers.

Vicky had told Edward that much. Said it firmly. In the end, it was Chrys’s life, Chrys’s body. The rest of them didn’t get to script it for her.

And yet here she was, sitting at dinner, chewing over the same dilemma and knowing she’d go along with the plan anyway. Only because Edward had promised it was reversible, whatever this genetic sorcery was. That if Chrys tried it, she could choose to go back. That whoever stepped out on the other side—whether it was Chrysanthemum the swarm queen, or Alesha Retania remembered—would at least be able to decide with clear eyes.

That was the only reason Vicky could live with it.

She glanced across the table. Chrys sat between Mera and Jakira, trying to copy the way Mera twirled her spoon through her stew, the long fingers of her chitinous hand clumsy but determined. Mera laughed, patient, leaning in to show her again. Jakira looked on with soft amusement, a grin tugging at her lips.

Vicky’s chest squeezed. They were a mess of tangled affections, all of them, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Which meant she couldn’t afford to let them drift into a choice Chrys never truly made.

“Can we talk about it?” Vicky pressed gently. Her claws toyed with the rim of her bowl. She felt the warmth creep up her neck but pressed on anyway. “They’re our, ahem, girlfriends after all.” She hesitated over the word but it tumbled out anyway. Cuddling, kissing, shared nights—they were already that, weren’t they?

“Polytheromance,” Chrysanthemum announced proudly, mandibles flexing. “This one thinks. Can’t remember the words. Poly… cube? No. This one does not think so. Poly… poly…”

“Not the point,” Vicky said, laughing under her breath. “You trust them as much as me, right?”

At that, Chrysanthemum’s head snapped toward her. All eyes fixed on Vicky, the mandibles flexing as if to taste the air between them. For a moment the chittering sound she made was more insect than person.

“This one… supposes,” she said finally, the words slower, softer.

“So can I tell them about Edward?” Vicky ventured.

“Mmmm… Spirit…” Chrysanthemum tilted her head, antennae quivering. She chittered again, a contemplative hum that resonated low in her chest. “This one… supposes. Cares for the girlfriends. Yesss. You can.”

Vicky’s expression brightened instantly. She reached across the table to brush Chrys’s arm with her clawed fingers, a touch of affection she wouldn’t have dared a few weeks ago. “Thank you.”

Chrys blinked, the movement oddly slow, then resumed eating with gusto. “This one is happy when the sweethearts are happy.”

“Who is Edward?” Mera asked, tilting her head slightly. Her fingers idly traced the edge of her bowl, a faint sheen of broth catching on her skin.

“My… mentor,” Vicky said, stirring her spoon thoughtfully. “I’ll introduce him to you after dinner, if that’s okay, Chrys?”

Chrysanthemum’s antennae twitched as she considered the request. Her four multifaceted eyes reflected the flickering lights of the galley. “Take the girlfriends into the sacred chambers? Fine. This one allows. But no secrets to be shared with anyone else. Only with this one and with the girlfriends, yes?” Her voice was sing-song, the words precise but carrying a note of curiosity that belied her alien cadence.

“I swear it,” Jakira said quickly, leaning back with a grin. “I’ve always been good with secrets. Nothing slips past these eyes,” she added, giving a mock-glare that somehow made her seem both intimidating and playful.

Mera nodded, soft and steady. “I’ve never been one for gossip. It’s often too far from the truth by the time I hear it.” She gave a small, almost shy smile at Chrys. “So I’ll keep it quiet, too.”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head, mandibles flexing in what could almost pass for a smile. “This one… is pleased. Sweethearts can be trusted. This one is happy.” She leaned slightly closer to the table, brushing a claw over her bowl absentmindedly, the gesture almost human in its tenderness.

Vicky’s tail flicked with delight, curling around her chair leg. “Good. You’ll see, Edward’s… well, he’s a bit unusual, but he’s also… safe. You’ll like him.”

They finished their meals slowly, savoring the last bits of stew and the lingering warmth of the bread. When the bowls were empty, Vicky moved around the table collecting their dishes with an easy, practiced motion. Her tail swayed lazily as she stacked the plates, then she straightened and beckoned to the others.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Time to meet Edward.”

The four of them rose together. Vicky led, her steps light despite the weight of the moment, the faint glow of her eyes casting a soft shimmer along the walls. Chrysanthemum brought up the rear, her antennae brushing the ceiling as she followed, mandibles clicking in quiet thought.

They passed through the Theatre Box room first, then they entered the narrow corridor at the back.

Both Mera and Jakira’s eyes widened as the corridor shifted around them. The rough-cut stone walls faded seamlessly into sleek, smooth metal. The dim glow of torches dissolved into the steady, sterile glow of synthetic light panels set flush into the ceiling. It was like walking through a dream — or a memory of a different world.

Jakira muttered something under her breath. Mera only stared, her hand brushing the wall as if to reassure herself it was real.

Then the door at the end slid open with a soft hiss, all on its own. Cool air brushed past them as the chamber revealed itself — impossibly clean, alien in its precision, every surface gleaming. Strange geometric lines pulsed faintly on the walls, as though the room itself were alive.

Vicky stepped through first, motioning for them to follow. “Welcome to the sacred chambers,” she murmured.

Chrysanthemum’s claws scraped lightly against the metal floor as she entered last, her four multifaceted eyes darting about the space.

“There are more now!” came a voice, smooth but edged with surprise. “Vicky, did you actually get through to Miss Retania?”

“I did.” Vicky’s grin turned a little smug as she walked further in, her hand brushing the smooth surface of one wall.

“Be good to the girlfriends. Big trust. Big secrets,” hissed Chrysanthemum quietly, antennae flicking toward the walls as though she could sense Edward’s presence.

A low, frustrated sigh came from the speakers hidden somewhere in the chamber. “The only person I have a problem with, Miss Retania, is you,” Edward said, his tone equal parts exasperated and resigned.

Mera startled slightly. “W–where are you?” she asked, her voice echoing faintly in the vast room. “I can hear you but… I can’t see you.”

“Because I don’t really have a body,” said the AI with a casual, almost wry tone. “Unless you count this entire place as my body.”

“Creepy,” muttered Jakira, eyes darting around at the walls like she half-expected them to move.

“Rude. I am nothing but pleasant company,” Edward said, his voice carrying that faint crackle of static, the sort of sarcastic timbre that somehow made it sound more human.

“He’s alright,” Vicky said, casting him a sideways grin as she led the group toward the kitchens. Her claws clicked lightly against the floor, tail curling behind her in a lazy arc.

Once inside, she set the bowls and plates carefully on the wide metal bench, stacking them neatly. Steam still rose from the last remnants of stew, filling the air with warmth. She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face Chrysanthemum, who lingered at the back of the room, mandibles flexing as if in thought, antennae twitching slightly.

“So, Chrys,” Vicky began, voice soft but earnest, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Chrys’s four multifaceted eyes swiveled to her, head tilting. “This one will do anything for the girlfriends,” she said solemnly, her tone matter-of-fact but carrying a subtle warmth that made Vicky’s chest tighten.

Vicky stepped a little closer, hesitating just a fraction before asking the question that had been on her mind. “Would you let Edward tell us… about your past?”

The words seemed to strike a chord. Chrys’s body tensed, antennae flicking sharply. A hiss escaped her throat. “NO!” Her mandibles flexed, clicking in quick succession. Then, slowly, she exhaled a low, vibrating note, forcing herself to calm. “No. Not important. No need. This one’s past is irrelevant. Only the present matters.”

Vicky’s brow furrowed slightly, but she kept her tone gentle. “I just… want to understand you better.”

Chrys’s gaze softened a fraction, though her posture remained guarded. “This one… is known. Loved. Present. That is enough. Sweethearts… need not pry into the old times.”

“Why?” Mera pressedas she leaned against the counter, chin tilted up stubbornly. “I want to know everything about you.”

Chrysanthemum’s antennae twitched, her mandibles shifting uneasily. “Because… because…” The words came halting, her voice rasping out as though the air itself weighed her down. She fidgeted with her claws, scraping one softly against the metal counter’s edge.

Jakira stepped closer, her presence grounding, and rested a hand lightly against Chrysanthemum’s arm. “I won’t push you either way,” she said gently. “Do whatever makes you most comfortable.” She shrugged, but the softness in her tone said she meant it.

Vicky’s chest tightened. The whole scene felt wrong. Edward’s plea still haunted her, but this—pressuring Chrys into dragging up something she clearly wanted buried—wasn’t what she wanted. Not from herself, not from any of them.

She let out a long sigh, setting down the serving spoon she’d been holding. I can’t do this to her. I can’t be another weight pressing her down.

“We can leave it,” Vicky said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “Forget all about this. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. We just… we want to know you better. But we like who you are now, Chrys. It’s your choice. Always.”

For a long moment, Chrysanthemum stared at the floor, the dim lights glinting off her chitin. Her shoulders hunched forward, her whole body drawn in like she was curling around something fragile inside herself.

Then, slowly, she lifted her head, her multifaceted eyes catching the light. “This one… will relent,” she murmured, voice carrying that strange resonance between hesitation and determination. “Girlfriends important. This one cares much. This one will lets the spirit do the tells of the tales.”

Her claws stilled. Mera’s expression softened, her earlier insistence replaced with guilt. Jakira gave Chrys’s arm a small squeeze, protective. Vicky felt the knot in her chest tighten and loosen all at once—relief, affection, and a creeping sense that what Chrys was about to share would change everything.

“Thank you, Miss Retania.” Said the AI, relief in his voice palpable. “If everyone could filter into the lounge, I will tell you the tales of Alesha, explorer, scientist, and defender of the vulnerable.”