One month had slipped by in a golden haze of productivity. Inside his studio on Friton, Dorian sat back, staring at the digital track-list of his finalized debut album: The Sun-Drenched Soul.
The title wasn't just aesthetic; it was a manifesto. It felt like a long-overdue goodbye to the version of himself that had existed only a year ago; the Dorian who spent every morning in the sunless, smog-choked chasms of Nexus Prime, desperately reaching his hand out of a public transport window just to catch a fleeting second of real sunlight. Now, that same sun didn't require a daring ascent. It sat just outside his window, bathing the Kepler family home in a warm glow.
This album was his greeting to a future he finally felt he owned. Throughout the galactic net, fans had begun to label Percival the "Tear Maestro," a title earned by the heavy, soul-crushing weight of Skyfall,No Time to Die, and Lovely. With this new record, Dorian wanted to prove that his soul wasn't just made of glass and stone, it was capable of warmth, rhythm, and optimism.
Most of the tracks were polished to a mirror sheen, but three critical gaps remained on his whiteboard: Best Part, The Bones, and Leave The Door Open.
He already had the voices in his head. Briane's breathy, ethereal texture was the only fit for the intimate warmth of Best Part. Juno's power and grit were perfect for the rugged, soulful foundation of The Bones. But Leave the Door Open presented a technical wall. Dorian could handle the smooth, rhythmic Anderson .Paak verses, but he lacked the soaring, effortless high-tenor range required for the "Bruno" part.
He stood up, stretching his spine until it popped. "Leo, call Ratik for me."
Leo drifted up from the composer's desk, his optical sensor pulsing a soft violet. "Calling Manager Ratik via holo-link," the Compadre chirped.
A few seconds later, a blue holographic projection shimmered into life from Leo's sensor. Ratik appeared, looking sharp in a professional suit, the background behind her filled with the bustling architecture of a high-end district.
"Dorian? You're actually initiating a call? Are you finally coming up for air?" she asked, her tone neutral but carrying a hint of amusement. "Aren't you busy?"
"Not so busy that I can't talk to my one and only favorite manager," Dorian replied with a grin. "Look, I'm finalizing the album. I need a male artist who can hit high notes, clean, soul-style high notes. Can you pull a list for me?"
Ratik tapped a few commands into her own datapad. "I can. I'll filter out the nobodies and the legal nightmares, then send you the top choices."
"No, no," Dorian interjected quickly. "Just send me the raw list of names as soon as possible. Let me do the filtering. It's my song, and I need a very specific 'vibe' that an algorithm might miss."
Ratik sighed, though her eyes remained soft. "Well, alright. You're the boss of your own sound. I'll have it to you in the next four to five hours."
"Hehe, thank you, Ratik," Dorian said, his eyes gleaming. "And don't forget, once this album drops and the credits start rolling in, we're talking about my underground hangar again."
Ratik let out a long, weary sigh that distorted the holographic feed. "Release the album first, Dorian. Let's see if the galaxy actually wants a 'Sun-Drenched' Percival before we start digging holes in your backyard. I'm hanging up."
The holo-flickered and vanished. Dorian let out a long breath, feeling the weight of the deadline. "Aaahhh, it's been a while. I think I need to go outside. I've been cooped up in here too long, haven't I?"
Leo hovered near the door, his panels shifting into a sassy shade of yellow. "Your 'cooped up' season in this studio is still significantly shorter than your 'pouting' season when you weren't accepted into the Solar program," the compadre stated flatly.
Dorian's eyes narrowed into a playful, dangerous smile. "You know, Leo... it's been a while since I did a routine maintenance check on your internal servos. I think I heard a rattle in your sarcasm-processing unit."
"Diagnostic: Servos are optimal. Evasion protocols: Engaged!" Leo chirped, suddenly zipping out of the studio at high speed.
"Hey! Don't run away, you sassy bucket of bolts!" Dorian laughed, dashing after the spherical compadre as it wove through the hallways of the Kepler estate. "I'm pretty sure your warranty is expired!"
Dorian finally cornered the hovering compadre just as they burst into the spacious living room. "Come here, you sphere bugger!" he shouted, lunging forward and catching Leo in a mock-wrestling grip.
In the center of the room, John and Lyra were seated around a low coffee table, hunched over in intense concentration. Between them stood a tall, precarious tower of wooden blocks, a game Dorian had recently introduced called Jenga.
"Son!" John called out, not moving a muscle as he held his breath.
"Oh, hey Dad, Lyra," Dorian said, letting Leo float free but keeping a hand on his shell. "What are you guys doing?"
"I'm trying to beat Dad," Lyra muttered through gritted teeth, her fingers trembling near the base of the tower. "But he kept cheating. He uses his 'miner's grip' to feel the friction or something."
John let out a hearty, quiet chuckle. "Hoho! Lyra has become a sore loser, it seems. Your brother made this game for steady-handed miner people like me, Lyra. It's all about the finesse."
Lyra focused entirely on a single block near the middle. She began to slide it out, millimeter by millimeter. The tension in the room was magnetic. John, Dorian, and even Leo leaned in silently, their eyes locked on the wobbling tower. It was about three-fourths of the way out, hanging by a literal splinter of balance, when a piercing scream ripped through the house.
"AAHHHHHHH!"
The tower collapsed instantly, wooden blocks clattering across the floor like rain.
"Shit!" Lyra hissed, jumping up.
"Dorian! That's your brother!" John shouted, his fatherly instincts overriding everything.
"Where is he?" Dorian yelled.
"Backyard!" John answered. He vaulted over the couch and sprinted for the sliding glass doors. "He was interested in that small hut you placed in the corner of the yard! He said he just wanted to inspect the 'weird craftsmanship'!"
Dorian's heart hammered against his ribs as he ran. 'The Junimo Hut.' He had placed it there as a decorative piece, a materialized item from the Stardew banner, so the Junimos inhabit it to help with their garden. 'Did something go wrong? Are they suddenly becoming hostile?'
Dorian and John burst into the backyard first. Dorian's face immediately shifted from terror to immense relief, but John stopped dead, his expression one of pure, bewildered confusion.
Seconds later, Lyra and Leo arrived, skidding to a halt.
Marcus was sitting in the grass, his face inches away from his open palm. He wasn't crying or hurt; he was giggling uncontrollably. "Oh, you guys are so cute! Stop tickling!"
John stepped forward tentatively. "Marcus? What... what happened? Why did you scream?"
Marcus looked up, his eyes wide and shimmering with excitement. "Dad, look! These cute little apples are all over our backyard! They're dancing!"
John, Lyra, and Leo stared at the grass. To them, the yard was empty save for the grass, the farm, and the small wooden hut.
"Apples?" Lyra asked, her voice skeptical. "Marcus, there's nothing there."
"Master John," Leo's sensors turned a clinical red. "I will ready the ship and route us to the nearest medical facility. It is possible the sun-exposure has induced a localized neuro-chemical hallucination in Master Marcus."
"I'm not seeing things!" Marcus insisted, looking back at his hand. "He's right here! He's green and has little twiggy arms!"
Dorian stepped forward and knelt beside his brother. "He's not lying, Leo. He's not crazy."
Dorian reached out. To the others, he was grabbing at thin air. But with a gentle pincer movement, he "picked up" the invisible force from Marcus's hand.
In Dorian's vision, a plump, green Junimo squeaked and waved its little arms.
"See?" Dorian said, looking at his confused father and sister. "He's real. I've got him."
Leo hovered in a silent circle, his processors audibly whirring. "Okay... I'll be driving the ship now. It is clear that Dorian also requires a psychiatric check-up. This is a shared delusional episode."
Dorian chuckled, letting the Junimo hop back into Marcus's hair. He looked his younger brother in the eye, his expression turning serious.
"Alright, Marcus," Dorian said gently. "Tell us exactly what happened right before you started seeing these 'apples'."
Marcus scrambled to his feet, his hands still moving in frantic, jagged gestures. "Okay, okay, so I was out here because that hut, the little wooden one you put in the corner, Brother. It's made of this really cool dark wood, right? It looks like mahogany but way lighter, and I wanted to see if the joints were dovetail or just pinned, because I saw a video on Stellar-Build where they said pinned joints are lazy, but anyway!"
He took a deep breath, his eyes darting to a ladybug on a nearby leaf before snapping back to his family.
"I had my sketchbook, the one with the blue cover. Well, it's mostly blue but the corner is peeling because I dropped it in a puddle near the crops last month and I was using my 0.5mm lead pencil. Not the 0.7mm, because that's too thick for fine lines, and I was trying to measure the door height. It's exactly four and a half of my fingers tall. And I was thinking, 'Man, this place is tiny. It needs a porch. Or maybe a tiny skylight!' So I started sketching a little expansion, like a wrap-around balcony made of twigs."
John rubbed his temples. "Marcus, the apples. Talk about the apples."
"I'm getting there, Dad! Gosh!" Marcus huffed, crossing his arms for exactly half a second before they started waving again. "So I'm drawing the balcony, right? And I'm thinking about what kind of railing would look best, maybe something with a criss-cross pattern like the fences on those farms on Obelia II, and then poof! Right on the page! This round, green... thing! It looked like a Granny Smith apple but with these tiny, spindly little arms and legs, like twig. It didn't even have a face, just these two big black dots for eyes that were staring right at my drawing. It pointed its little twig-finger at the balcony design and did a little jump-spin! That's when I screamed! I mean, a fruit just judged my sketch, wouldn't you scream?"
Dorian burst out laughing, a loud, clear sound that echoed in the backyard. He is also could see them. Three of them, a green one, a yellow one, and a blue one, all huddling near the hut, looking at Marcus with what seemed to be intense curiosity.
'They love his designs,' Dorian thought, grinning. 'The Junimos recognize a kindred spirit.'
John and Lyra, however, didn't share the humor. John looked at Marcus, then at the empty air, his face pale with worry. Lyra was narrowing her eyes, her hand hovering near her wrist band as if ready to call a neuro-specialist.
"He's seeing things, Dorian," Lyra said, her voice tight. "This isn't funny. It's a hallucination."
Dorian sighed, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. He looked at his father. "Dad, do me a favor. Go to the garden patch over there. Grab three of the highest-quality crops we have. The ones that look... glowing."
John blinked, looking confused. "What? Why? Dorian, your brother is talking to thin air and you want me to go harvesting?"
Dorian gave him a steady, confident smile, the kind of look he used to wear when he was explaining a complex bit of code. "Just trust me, Dad. You'll know what it's for in a second. Just bring them here."
John hesitated, looked at the giggling Marcus, and then nodded slowly. He trekked over to the farm patch beside the backyard, his heavy boots crunching on the soil.
Lyra stayed where she was, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She watched her two brothers, Dorian kneeling in the dirt, and Marcus "petting" the empty air above his head, making little clicking noises. To her, it was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. They looked like they were the patient zero of mass hysteria.
John returned a few minutes later, his boots caked in the rich Friton soil. He was holding a single, abnormally large ear of corn that seemed to shimmer with a golden luster, and two vibrant red hot peppers that looked like they had been polished to a mirror shine.
"Here, Dorian." John said, sounding breathless. "What do you need them for?"
Dorian didn't take them. He pointed toward the empty patch of grass near Marcus. "Don't give them to me, Dad. Give them to them."
John let out a heavy sigh, looking at the empty air. He handed the peppers to Lyra, who took them with a bewildered expression, then he knelt down in front of the empty patch. He held out the golden corn.
"Dorian, this is ridiculous," John muttered.
"Be sincere, Dad," Dorian urged, his voice soft. "They can feel your intent."
John paused. He looked at the corn, then at Dorian, and finally at the empty space. He took a deep breath. "Here," he said, his voice dropping to a humble rumble. "I believe my sons... so I believe you want this. Thank you for looking after our home."
POOF.
With a sound like a tiny firecracker, a bright green Junimo materialized right in front of John's knees. It let out a happy "Squee!" and lunged forward, grabbing the giant stalk of corn with its spindly arms. It was so heavy that the Junimo actually tipped backward for a second before doing a celebratory somersault.
John scrambled back, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Whoa! It... it's real?! It just appeared!"
Lyra was visibly shaken, her fingers tightening around the hot peppers. "What the... Dad, is this a prank? Did you guys set up some high-end holographic emitters just to make me look stupid?"
John didn't answer. He reached out with trembling fingers, and the green Junimo hopped right into his open palm. It was soft and felt like a warm, fuzzy fruit. "Oh my... it's real. And they're... they're actually quite cute."
John stood up, his gaze sweeping across the backyard and the farm beyond. Now that his mind had accepted the "logic" of their existence, the veil seemed to lift. He saw them everywhere. A blue one was swinging on the grapevines; a yellow one was playing hide-and-seek behind the tomato trellises; dozens of them were busily inspecting the soil.
"I'm... I'm lost for words," John whispered, looking at the garden. "Is this what you see every time you look out the window, Dorian?"
Dorian nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Humm. It's a wholesome scene, right? They're the real reason this farm is so successful."
Lyra looked at the two peppers in her hand, then at the huddle of spirits near Marcus. "Fine," she muttered, her pride warring with her curiosity. "I'll bite. Here, apple-cuties. I've got your two peppers."
She knelt down and held them out. Immediately, two Junimos, one grey and one pink materialized with a loud POP right in front of her face.
"AH!" Lyra yelped. The suddenness of it sent her reeling back, and she landed hard on her butt in the grass.
Marcus burst into giggles, and the Junimos mimicked him, letting out high-pitched chirps of laughter.
Lyra scrambled back into a sitting position, her eyes wide as she watched the pink Junimo happily munching on the pepper. "They are apples. Living apples... Dorian, they're exactly like the ones in your game."
Dorian's heart skipped a beat. He had been so caught up in the moment he'd forgotten the timeline. He scrambled for a cover story, his mind racing through the Mnemonic Echo. "Well... I'm kind of inspired by them, you know! I saw one once when we first moved in, and I thought, 'Hey, those are cool,' so I made them the mascots for the game. They're... uh... Apple Spirits of Friton! That's it."
Lyra didn't look convinced. She narrowed her eyes, her analytical mind working at lightning speed. "Dorian, you made the alpha for Stardew while we were still on Nexus Prime. Before we ever came to Friton. How did you know about them? And you said you 'purchased' that hut at a flea market, but it looks exactly like the ones they live in the game."
Dorian felt a drop of cold sweat roll down his spine. 'Goddamn, this kid is sharp.'
"Look!" Dorian shouted, pointing desperately toward the vineyard. "That blue Junimo is hanging by the grapes! We should probably help him before he falls!"
He hurried toward the vineyard, brushing off the topic as fast as his legs could carry him.
Lyra watched him go, her gaze suspicious and lingering. She knew her brother was hiding something big, something that went beyond just being a talented "Star Maker."
Leo, meanwhile, hovered in the background, his optical sensor flickering between the family and the dancing spirits. "Diagnostic: Probability of mass hysteria has reached 88%. Commencing draft of a medical report for Patient Zero: Dorian. If you all start seeing more next time, I am calling medics."
"Quiet, Leo!" Dorian hissed from the grapes. "Just enjoy the view!"
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮:
- Stardwey Valley: Completed.
- Hades: 42%████▒▒▒▒▒▒
🎬: -
♬:
- Your Name – Elton John (ch.9)
- A Lovely Night – La La Land (ch.20)
- Merry Go Round of Life – Howl's Moving Castle (ch.25)
- Small Fragile Hearts – Victor Lundberg (ch. 27)
- Skyfall – Adele (ch. 29)
- No Time To Die – Billie Eilish (ch. 30)
- Yesterday – The Beatles (ch. 32)
- Lovely – Billie Eilish, Khalid (ch. 47)
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**