Celeste paused at the edge of the room, brushing imaginary lint from her pale jumper dress, its star-patterned trim glinting under the flickering arcade lights. Her long star-sleeved coat swept gently behind her, and she adjusted the fit of her blue newsboy hat—newly bought and already precious.

Everything in her posture straightened, prim and trained, as though her father’s voice echoed in her head: Posture is presence, Celeste. Don’t fidget. Don’t stumble.

But halfway across the room, her ankle turned just slightly on the edge of a scuffed game mat.

She caught herself, rolled her eyes, and let go.

She took a breath and deliberately loosened her shoulders. Each step forward was still elegant—but there was a slowness to it, a hesitation. The kind that came from trying to unlearn something that had been drilled in too deep.

When she reached the group, she clasped her hands and gave a polite smile.

“Um—hullo,” she said softly, ears flicking. “Sorry, I don’t mean to… intrude. I was just—ah—I’m looking for my penpal? We’ve been messaging under the name Nebuluna. He said he’d be near the arcade machines, if that’s alright?”

The brown hedgehog lounging on the floor was the first to respond.

He stood up—slowly, smugly—as if gravity itself bowed to his own importance.

“That would be me,” he said smoothly, brushing imaginary lint from his lapel. “Arcade. Yes, like the machines. Ironic, really—I’m considerably more complex than flashing lights and bad programming. Still, it’s a name with flair.”

Celeste blinked. “Oh! I—I thought you’d be—well, the lynx, perhaps? Sorry. That was silly of me.”

“You assumed tall, angular, tragic cheekbones?” Arcade smirked, folding his arms. “Predictable. Everyone does. Never the hedgehog with inconvenient genius and an overwhelming sense of style.”

He gave her a cool once-over. “Truth be told, I half-expected you to be a Siamese. Or perhaps a Korat—something sleek, academically threatening.”

Celeste opened her mouth, heat rising in her ears, but he cut her off with a casual wave.

“Still, a ragdoll cat—unexpected. And very... bold of you to come in full cosplay. I respect the courage.”

Celeste’s eye twitched. She tried—really tried—not to snap.

“Actually,” she said through her primmest voice, “Well—I mean—it was you who invited me, wasn’t it? I have the messages, if, um—if you’d like proof—”

“Nahhh,” he interrupted, tapping his temple. “I invited Nebuluna. No idea who Celeste is, but hey—con connections, right? The algorithm works in mysterious ways.”

He pointed to the fennec fox quietly standing nearby. “This is my cousin, Skye. He’s a dual-deck master. Hasn’t lost a match all day.”

Skye gave a small nod without looking up, his large ears twitching slightly as the holographic card device on his arm spun a vivid animation. His movements were minimal, controlled—almost too controlled. His soft humming suggested he was reciting something in his head.

Celeste smiled at him. “Hi, Skye.”

He glanced up briefly. “Your shoelace is untied,” he said, then added, “Also—hi.” He returned to his cards without explanation.

Celeste blinked, glancing at her perfectly tied boots. “Oh—um—thank you, Dear. I’ll, ah—keep an eye on it.”

Before Celeste could return to the awkwardness of whatever had just happened, Melody bounded in through the side door like a bright comet.

“Okay, don’t yell at me, but I brought more candy!” she announced, waving a half-full bag above her head like a trophy. “Stage fox totally caved—pretty sure she’s legally required to keep handing these out until I explode!”

She offered it out.

Arcade sniffed and stepped back. “No thanks. I tried one earlier. Made my sinuses buzz like I'd licked a fusion coil.”

Skye shook his head quickly. “Too bright,” he murmured. Then, matter-of-factly, “Like eating a flashlight.”

Melody blinked at him. “…That’s amazing. I have to have one now.”

She popped one in her mouth and chewed happily. “Yup. Exactly like a flashlight. But, like… in a fun way!”

Celeste looked down at the glowing sweets again, ears folding back. “Um… I don’t think that’s how they’re supposed to taste, love.”

Melody shrugged. “More for me.”

Celeste looked down at the sweets again. Still glowing faintly at the edges. Still wrong.

As they stood in the awkward circle of half-met introductions and sugar-fueled chaos, she glanced toward the arcade machine again.

But the lynx—the one she thought had been her penpal—was gone.
No sound. No excuse. No goodbye.
Just vanished.

Celeste’s brow furrowed.
A sinking feeling nudged the back of her mind like a whisper.

What if he was her penpal after all?
And what if he’d left because he recognized something in her...
that he didn’t want to be associated with?

Lumina had found her way to the floor next to Skye, legs crossed and tail gently swishing with curiosity as she watched the fennec fox flip through his deck with practiced precision. He spoke very little—just enough to explain the mechanics—but Lumina listened closely. Her little fingers mimicked his shuffling, her soft pink dress pulled slightly over her paws.

“See?” he said quietly, placing a glittering card in her palm. “This one can evolve if the field is lunar-aligned. But only during a fusion turn.”

Lumina blinked. “How do I know if it’s lunar-aligned? Is there, like, a moon button?”

Skye pointed to a holographic meter glowing in the corner of the display. “Watch for that crescent symbol. That’s when it happens.”

“Ohhh…” Lumina leaned closer, humming a little tune. “Moon button.” She tapped the meter gently and giggled.

A small smile tugged at Skye’s lips, almost imperceptible, but there.

Celeste watched them with soft fondness, warmth in her eyes. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Sweetheart… you’re learning fast,” she murmured.

Arcade, meanwhile, had turned his attention to Melody, who was busy reorganizing her candy stash by flavor next to a row of console controllers.

“So, uh,” he said, gesturing toward her with a raised brow, “are you just a random cosplay tag-along, or...?”

Melody gasped dramatically. “Excuse you—I’m not a random NPC! We’re classmates. Illustration, second year. Celeste and I are sketch critique survivors.”

Arcade blinked once. “Really? She’s in illustration?” He tilted his head toward Celeste. “Didn’t peg you for the artsy type. Too earnest.”

“Yup. Celeste and I are both trying to survive Professor Talon’s sketch critiques without bursting into feathers.”

“Sketch critiques?” He looked between them, amused. “Didn’t expect her to be in illustration.”

Melody grinned wickedly. “She doesn’t think she’s pretentious enough to pass. But her magical girl portfolio? Adorable. Ten out of ten.”

Celeste narrowed her eyes. “Melody.”

“And she,” Melody continued, pointing at Celeste with a gummy candy wand, “once sent her whole assignment to the wrong email. Guess who got it?”

Arcade chuckled. “Me.”

Melody gasped in mock horror. “No.”

“Yup. She typed her address wrong by one letter. I graded it and sent it back with red marks and a note saying, ‘Excellent fluff, poor grammar.’”

Celeste squeaked. “Y-you did not! Oh stars, you two are dreadful. Ganging up on me like that.”

“Only because it’s fun,” Melody sang, twirling her candy like a baton. “Also because you make that scrunchy face when you’re flustered.”

“You’re making it now,” Arcade added dryly, lips twitching in amusement.

Celeste puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms. “I am not scrunching. …Am I?”

Lumina piped up from the floor, blunt as ever. “Yep. Face is scrunch. Like a walnut.”

Celeste buried her face in her paws. “Oh, brilliant. Thank you, all of you.”

Melody shoved a controller into her lap. “C’mon, scrunchy. Let’s race. If you win, we’ll stop teasing.”

“That’s a lie,” Celeste mumbled, though she grabbed the controller anyway, ears flicking red.

They settled at one of the consoles—a retro racer with magical mounts and glittery power-ups—and chose their avatars. Celeste picked a winged unicorn chariot, Melody a punk griffon, and Arcade a souped-up war boar on hoverwheels.

As the game began, Celeste glanced toward the kids again. Lumina was laughing now—light, brief, but unmistakable. Skye had shown her something clever in his deck that made her clap her paws excitedly. It warmed her.

Midway through the second race, Celeste turned toward Arcade during a loading screen.

“So… um—if it’s not rude to ask—why did you bring Skye to the con?” Her voice was gentle, hesitant. “I only brought Lumina because I thought… maybe it might help her come out of her shell a little.”

Arcade’s grip on his controller tightened just enough to notice.

“It’s complicated,” he said flatly, eyes still on the screen. Then, with a dismissive flick of tone: “Let’s… leave it at that.”

Celeste’s ears dipped. “Oh—right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

They returned to the game. But a new edge had entered his tone.

As the final lap kicked in, Melody was clearly in the lead, throwing banana peels and magical spark bombs with practiced ease. But her posture was starting to sag.

“Mel?” Celeste said softly, concern threading her voice. “You’re… um… looking a bit pale.”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m good!” Melody blurted, blinking too hard. “Just, uh… maybe too many bonbons. They’re delicious but… y’know, kinda spinny.”

Celeste frowned, setting her controller aside mid-race. “Love, you really don’t look alright. Maybe you should—um—just sit for a bit?”

“Noooope!” Melody laughed, forcing her grin wide. “I’ve gotta finish strong! Victory first, nausea later.”

Her griffon avatar screeched over the finish line and exploded into digital confetti.

“YES! Eat my spark trail!” she whooped, then flopped back into the beanbag with a dizzy groan.

Celeste leaned in, worry deepening. “You okay? You’re not... tingling, are you?”

Melody cracked one eye open, voice faint but still trying for cheer. “No static. Just… spinny carnival stomach. Probably the sugar. Or the noise. Or both. Don’t look so serious, Cel, I’m not dying.”

Arcade arched a brow, finally glancing over. “You didn’t eat that many, did you?”

Melody gave a vague shrug. “Only like… six? Eight? Ten-ish?”

Skye, still seated by Lumina, murmured without looking up: “I told you. Too bright. Like eating a lightbulb.”

Lumina nodded solemnly beside him. “Boom. Brain goes ouch.”

Celeste glanced back at Melody.

She didn’t want to overreact.

But that strange feeling from earlier—the static heat, the surge—it was still there.
Just... quieter now.
Like something waiting.