Baida stood at the doorway, holding Silver Wolf, who was trembling and crying in her arms, almost limp.
The hot tears quickly soaked through the fabric at her shoulder.
Those long-suppressed sobs, like those of a wounded young animal, struck her heart one after another, filling her with both heartache and deep guilt.
She didn’t speak.
She just looked into the room with those eyes that resembled Herta’s yet carried a completely different warmth, offering a gentle apology to Kafka and Blade, who had opened his eyes and was watching silently.
Kafka had already set down her coat maintenance tools.
She crossed her legs elegantly, one hand propping up her chin, her crimson eyes gleaming with undisguised, deep interest and curiosity.
She was like an audience member in a box seat watching an unexpected play, and this scene of “sisters reuniting” had clearly exceeded her expectations, yet it was especially captivating.
Blade’s gaze remained still, like an undisturbed deep pool, but his body, which had been as taut as a drawn blade, relaxed almost imperceptibly.
He might not understand this sudden flood of emotion, but he could feel Silver Wolf’s genuine breakdown and dependence, and the lack of malice from the unexpected visitor at the door—only a warmth that seemed to have settled over time, weathered by years.
Baida gave them a slight nod in greeting.
Then she lowered her head and whispered gently into Silver Wolf’s ear, her voice like a feather brushing past: “Alright, alright, Bronya, stop crying…
I’m back.
I’m really back.
Let’s go inside first, okay?
Don’t let anyone…
see you like this.” She glanced meaningfully at Kafka.
Silver Wolf’s sobs gradually subsided into quiet sniffles, but her arms around Baida didn’t loosen.
Instead, they tightened, as if she were trying to fuse herself into Baida’s body.
Baida smiled helplessly yet fondly and half-carried, half-guided this oversized “accessory” carefully into the room, gently closing the door with her heel, shutting out any prying eyes.
Seeing this, Kafka’s lips curved into a knowing smile.
She rose gracefully, walked to the small bar in the corner, and skillfully brewed a cup of steaming black tea, its rich aroma immediately filling the air.
She placed the delicate cup on the coffee table in front of the sofa and made a “please” gesture toward Baida.
“Seems like a very important…
old acquaintance?” Kafka’s voice carried her signature lazy, magnetic quality, like a feather lightly tickling one’s curiosity.
Baida helped Silver Wolf sit down on the sofa.
Silver Wolf immediately leaned into her like a small animal lacking security, her head resting on Baida’s shoulder, one hand still tightly gripping her clothes, her swollen eyes casting a wary glance at Kafka before quickly burying herself back against Baida.
“I apologize for the trouble, Ms.
Kafka.” Baida’s voice was gentle and polite.
She took the cup of tea and nodded in thanks.
“My name is Baida.
As you can see, I’m Silver Wolf’s—or rather, Bronya’s—older sister.” She paused, feeling the slight trembling of Silver Wolf against her shoulder, and gently patted her hand.
“That’s certainly an…
interesting answer.
From what I know, little wolf’s past doesn’t seem to include such a…
remarkable older sister.”
“It’s a long story, involving some…
hard-to-explain miracles.” Baida responded calmly, already prepared with her explanation, skillfully avoiding the truth about the system and simulations.
“Simply put, due to an accident, I was ‘gone’ for a long time.
Only recently did I fortunately return—in a way I myself never expected.
Finding you here took some effort; I tracked some ‘little secrets’ that only Bronya and I would know.” As she spoke, she looked down at Silver Wolf leaning against her, her gaze soft.
She lifted her head, her eyes sincere as she looked at Kafka, and at Blade, who stood like a background presence but was impossible to ignore: “Regardless, thank you so much.
During the time I was…
away, you’ve taken care of Bronya and given her a new home.” Her gratitude came from the heart, because she could tell from Silver Wolf’s state that, even though she remained withdrawn, she was accepted in this group.
Silver Wolf’s muffled voice came from her shoulder: “…I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” Though her tone was still prickly, it lacked its usual coldness, sounding more like a child’s protest.
Kafka laughed softly: “No need to thank us, Miss Baida.
Little wolf is an important companion.
Looking after companions is only natural.” Her tone shifted slightly, a glint of sharpness in her crimson eyes.
“However, your ‘return’ was indeed beyond our expectations.
Very…
unexpected.”
Just then, Elio, who had been quietly curled on top of the cat tree, let out a soft meow, drawing everyone’s attention.
He raised those green eyes, seemingly containing a sea of stars, and gazed quietly at Baida.
A clear consciousness wave, carrying an ancient rhythm, transmitted directly into everyone’s mind:
[An interesting variable.
Your existence, your return…
is not in the script.]
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
Blade’s gaze sharpened slightly.
Kafka’s smile became harder to read.
Even Silver Wolf, still buried in Baida’s shoulder, stiffened a little, instinctively gripping Baida’s clothes tighter.
But Baida showed no panic or surprise.
She seemed to have anticipated this question.
Her hand holding the teacup was steady as a rock.
cunning.
“Yes, Mr.
Elio.” Baida’s voice was clear and steady, without a trace of wavering.
“I understand.
To you, I might be an unexpected ‘glitch,’ a ‘variable’ that shouldn’t exist.”
She leaned forward slightly, placing the teacup back on the coffee table with a soft clink.
Her gaze swept over Kafka and Blade before finally returning to Elio.
Her tone was gentle, yet carried an unshakable certainty:
“But your script, the grand narrative it depicts, the tides of fate it follows…
surely there’s room within it for a small ‘variable’ whose only desire is to protect her little sister?”
She gently wrapped her arm around Silver Wolf’s shoulder, the gesture perfectly natural.
“I have no intention of altering the main plot or interfering with your predetermined path.
My wish is very small—so small it might not even occupy a punctuation mark in your vast book of fate.” Her voice softened, as if stating the simplest fact.
“I just want to…
stay by Bronya’s side and make sure she’s alright.
That’s all.”
“So,” Baida concluded, still smiling, “though I’m ‘not in’ your script, my existence and my purpose won’t affect the script’s final performance.
Isn’t that right?”
Elio gazed at her quietly, those cat eyes swirling with an indescribable light.
He didn’t transmit any further messages, just flicked the tip of his tail once, then closed his eyes again—as if giving tacit consent, or as if simply setting the matter aside for now.
The atmosphere in the room relaxed, oddly enough, after this exchange.
The scrutiny in Kafka’s eyes had faded considerably, replaced by a deeper interest.
Blade had also closed his eyes again, returning to his rock-like state.
Silver Wolf’s tense body relaxed completely.
She lifted her head slightly, glanced at Elio, who had closed his eyes again, then at Baida beside her, her expression calm and at ease.
A long-missed sense of “security” wrapped around her like a warm current.
Baida, as if completing the most ordinary task, noticed several game cartridges scattered on the sofa corner and coffee table.
She naturally reached out, picked them up one by one, and neatly stacked them by type and release date, placing them aside.
The movement was practiced and natural, as if she had always done this—just like in the small staff canteen basement, where she had always silently organized the parts and cables that Silver Wolf had left in disarray.
In the room, the steam from the black tea rose slowly.
Outside the window, Penacony’s neon lights continued to flicker.
A warm, gentle atmosphere of “home,” different from their usual mission coordination, began to quietly spread through this suite belonging to the Stellaron Hunters.
For Silver Wolf, the “home” that had once existed only in data and memory seemed, at this moment, with Baida’s return, to have finally regained its true shape and warmth.