The dishes came out one by one.
The chefs at the Golden Grand knew what they were doing. Simple ingredients, handled well, came out fragrant and hot and genuinely good.
The smell filled the room fast, cutting through the low-level awkwardness that had been hanging around since Phainon turned out to look so much like Kevin.
Hyacine kept busy, quietly refilling tea and topping off water glasses, her smile steady and easy.
Stelle and March 7th ate with real enthusiasm, complimenting everything in reach. Dan Heng ate at his own pace, calm and unhurried.
Mei had mostly come back to herself, eating slowly and carefully, every so often sliding something into Kiana's bowl.
Kiana had apparently decided to cope with the earlier shock by eating through it, working her way through the table like she was trying to make up for lost time.
She talked around a mouthful of grilled meat: "Mm... okay, this is pretty good... compared to home... actually, never mind, let's just eat."
Bronya ate less than the others, but attentively. Her eyes drifted around the restaurant now and then, tracking the other tables, quiet and observant.
Arthur ate too. The food really was good, the kind of warm, unpretentious cooking that settles something in your chest.
But his mind kept pulling elsewhere, back toward an older layer of things.
Back to how all three of these girls had ended up at a half-dead little studio called Under the Stellar Sky.
The memories came up slowly, rising with the calm of the meal.
Kiana Kaslana. What he remembered was a brutally bright afternoon, the sun too high, the day he'd been in the middle of digging out from yet another failed project. He was a wreck.
The office door slammed open and she walked in like she owned the place, those blue eyes lit up like she was already halfway through a speech.
"Hey! Captain! Your girl is here to save this disaster of a studio!"
Hands on her hips, chin up, the whole bit. Like she had her own personal spotlight following her around.
"Kiana? How did you even—" Arthur had stared at her, genuinely thrown off.
Wasn't she supposed to be at the family estate? Being groomed to take over the Kaslana business someday?
"Ugh, don't get me started," she said, dropping into a chair like she lived there.
"I was going insane at home. Theresa — the Principal, you know, the one who looks like she's in fifth grade but has been around longer than anyone — she somehow heard this place was tanking, and decided that since I was 'just sitting around doing nothing anyway,' I should come help out my 'useless childhood friend and see what real work looks like before I inherit something and get taken to the cleaners by the first person who figures out I don't know anything.'"
She nailed the Principal's prim, slightly squeaky voice with unsettling accuracy.
Then she slumped back, looking put-upon. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm perfectly capable, for the record.
But... since the Principal said so, I guess I can be generous and lend you a hand. One condition, though: I don't need a paycheck, but snacks are non-negotiable. And nothing soul-crushingly boring."
Simple as that. A little chaotic, more than a little blunt.
But Arthur had looked at those blue eyes of hers — all breezy confidence on the surface, something restless and hungry underneath, a real need to do something that was actually hers — and he couldn't tell her no.
And that was how the Kaslana heiress ended up as Art Director of a struggling indie studio, and its unofficial Head of Snack Procurement.
Raiden Mei. Mei's arrival was almost reasonable by comparison. She showed up the very next day, after Kiana.
She came in a simple, nice skirt, carrying a small bag, and stood in the doorway with a soft, slightly apologetic look on her face.
"Arthur, sorry to just drop by."
Her voice was quiet. "Kiana basically made me come. She said going through something hard alone would be too depressing, and she was also worried she'd eat through your entire operating budget. She said someone needed to keep an eye on her."
She stepped inside, taking in the cluttered, oddly alive space with an unhurried look, calm and clear.
"I'm also genuinely curious about what you've built here. My father wants me to start getting familiar with the company's operations at some point, but he's also always said that when you're young, you should actually try things while you still can."
She looked at Arthur.
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I stay and help with whatever's useful? Character design, maybe, or background illustration?"
Perfectly sensible reasoning. Delivered without any fuss. She'd even worked her father's wishes in, as if to give it a little extra legitimacy.
But Arthur knew the real answer was Kiana. It almost always was, with Mei.
That was just how she was. Gentle, steady, always a half-step behind Kiana's latest bright idea, quietly making sure the pieces didn't fall apart. Supporting every impulsive scheme with a patience that never seemed to wear thin.
Maybe somewhere inside, Mei also wanted a little breathing room from the life that had already been laid out for her. Somewhere she could just exist for a while without it being part of a plan.
Whatever the reason, she stayed. The daughter of a major corporate family became the studio's second artist, and before long her work — polished, technically solid, quietly striking — made her indispensable.
Bronya's arrival was the quietest of the three, and probably the most complicated.
It was a grey, rainy evening. Arthur was alone in the studio, staring at a project document that wasn't making any sense.
There was a knock at the door.
He opened it and found Bronya standing in the damp outside, an old backpack on her shoulders, her clothes smelling like wet pavement and cold air.
"Bronya?"
He was surprised. The two of them knew each other through Kiana and Mei, but Bronya had always kept more to herself.
"Yeah," she said, flat. "I heard you needed people."
She walked in, swept the space with a quick, evaluating look, said nothing, and set her bag down on an empty desk.
"My studio shut down last month," she said. No preamble, no particular feeling in it. "We went the wrong direction on the project. Funding fell through."
"I'm sorry," Arthur said, not sure what else to offer.
He knew enough about Bronya to understand what that meant. Games weren't a hobby for her, not an outlet or a way to kill time. Starting her own studio had been the actual goal. The real thing.
Bronya shook her head. "Don't be. I learned what I needed to learn."
Then, after a beat, like she was organizing the next part: "Professor Welt suggested I come take a look."
"Professor Welt?"
That landed somewhere solid in his chest. Welt Yang. One of the founding figures of the Anti-Entropy Group, a name that carried real weight in both academia and the business world, and the professor who had guided Bronya through her entire university career.
"He said that even though Under the Stellar Sky is in rough shape right now, you have a kind of..." she paused, repeating the phrase with her usual flatness, "impractical resilience.
The Anti-Entropy Group has technical resources and distribution channels. There may be room down the line to collaborate with independent studios that show some promise. He asked me to come and observe." A slight pause. "Basically, to intern."
The stated reason sounded like a corporate evaluation. It even had a faint edge of condescension to it, like being handed something out of pity.
But looking at those quiet, still eyes of hers, Arthur had felt pretty sure there was more going on under the surface.
What would someone like Welt Yang actually want with a tiny studio that could fold any week now? Why send his best student to watch it happen?
Maybe after the failure, Bronya herself needed somewhere to start over. Somewhere with people she already knew, where the general frequency was something like: hit a wall, keep going, figure it out.
Whatever brought her, she stayed. Programmer, artist, both at once, with a range of technical ability that was quietly staggering. She became the steadiest presence the studio had, and also its hardest to read.
The memory settled into a complete picture, each piece slotting in beside the others.
Kiana, sent off to learn what the real world actually felt like. Mei, more or less pulled along by her.
And Bronya, arriving with the composure of someone who had already been through the worst of it, carrying both the experience and a careful, watchful eye — sent by someone else, for reasons that were probably more layered than anyone had said out loud.
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~ Push the story forward with your Power Stones