Abby awoke the next morning refreshed and confused at first at the familiar surroundings. Memories of the previous day flooded her mind as she rose and started getting ready for the day. Abby's room, a blend of cozy familiarity and personal touch, exuded a comforting charm. As the morning light filtered through sheer curtains, it cast a warm, inviting glow across the space. The walls, painted a soft, neutral color, were adorned with an array of framed photographs and hand-drawn sketches that chronicled her life's moments and memories. Each frame told a story, from childhood adventures to significant milestones.

Her bed, positioned centrally in the room, was dressed in a plush comforter and an assortment of pillows that ranged in size and texture, creating a perfect nook for rest and relaxation. The bedding, in muted earth tones, complemented the overall serene palette of the room. Beside the bed, a nightstand held a stack of books, a small, vintage-style lamp with a warm bulb, and a modest alarm clock, its soft ticking a gentle reminder of the world outside her tranquil haven.

Across the room, a sturdy, well-used wooden desk sat against a window, offering a view of the garden below. The desk was cluttered with more personal artifacts: a laptop half-closed, a mug with dried coffee rings, scattered notes, and a couple of pens without caps. Beside the desk, shelves brimming with more books and several small potted plants added a touch of life and greenery, indicating Abby's love for nature and reading.

A comfortable armchair, draped with a hand-knitted throw, sat in a cozy corner, creating an ideal spot for reading or contemplation. The throw, a gradient of blues and grays, matched the overall calming theme of the room. The floor was covered with a soft, plush rug that invited bare feet to step on it, adding warmth and texture to the room.

Overall, Abby's room was a personal retreat, reflecting her tastes and experiences—a sanctuary designed not just for sleep but for reflection and personal time, resonating with the layers of her life and the journeys she had undertaken.

She moved from her room to the main room attached to the kitchen. Near the information kiosk, a flat screen that conveyed information from around the city as well as entertainment, she found Nat still asleep on the lounge with his writings and pens strewn about the floor. The previous night was not lit as well and her focus on removing Erik’s access distracted her but now, she viewed her home after spending three months away.

Transitioning from her tranquil bedroom, Abby stepped into the main living area, which seamlessly integrated with the kitchen. This space was designed with both functionality and comfort in mind, reflecting a modern aesthetic tempered with personal touches that made it uniquely hers.

The main room was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that bathed the area in natural light, enhancing the openness of the layout. The walls here were adorned with abstract art pieces that added pops of color to the otherwise neutral palette dominated by soft beiges and whites. A large, comfortable lounge dominated the living area, its deep cushions disheveled from Nat’s overnight stay. Beside it, papers, pens, and open notebooks lay scattered on the floor, evidence of Nat’s late-night musings. His snores on the lounge were the only sounds in the room, it reminded her of when Erik would stay up watching news or entertainment.

The kitchen area was delineated by a breakfast bar, topped with sleek, polished stone that contrasted with the warm wooden cabinetry below. Modern appliances, each with a chrome finish, reflected the morning light, giving the kitchen a clean, almost sterile look that was softened by a vase of fresh flowers on the counter. She did a double take as she was confused about the flowers being fresh. She filed it away for later to asked Nat if he had gotten them. The kitchen was equipped with everything needed for a home cook, hinting at Abby’s culinary interests with various cooking tools and gadgets neatly arranged or hanging from designated spots.

Adjacent to the kitchen, a high-tech information kiosk stood against one wall, its flat screen displaying a dynamic mix of local news, weather forecasts, and entertainment options. The screen was an interactive hub, responsive to touch and voice commands, which kept Abby connected to the wider city beyond her immediate sanctuary.

As she moved through this familiar yet newly appreciated space, Abby took in the changes and constants of her home environment, feeling a renewed sense of belonging and a poignant reminder of the life she temporarily left behind. The contrast between her peaceful bedroom and the slightly chaotic living area highlighted the different aspects of her life, from private reflection to the shared experiences with friends like Nat.

Abby moved to the high-tech kitchen appliance called a dispenser, a sleek interface that served as a home assistant for ordering groceries and managing household tasks. With a few taps on the smooth surface, she placed an order for breakfast sausage and eggs, sourced from the flightless quayal, a unique hybrid creature reminiscent of a quail and a gayal. The appliance confirmed her order with a soft chime, and within minutes, a small delivery compartment at the bottom opened, revealing the fresh ingredients.

The sausages were robust and seasoned, their aroma rich with herbs and spices, promising a savory start to the meal. The quayal eggs were a striking blue, their shells smooth and slightly glossy. Abby cracked the eggs into a bowl, the contents spilling out to reveal a vibrant blue that turned pale as she whisked them with a splash of milk, transforming into a soft, enticing hue reminiscent of a clear sky just after dawn.

She preheated a non-stick skillet on the stove, the sizzle of the sausages filling the air as she added them to the pan. The smell of cooking meat wafted through the kitchen, mingling with the slightly sweet, rich aroma of the eggs as she poured them in. The eggs sizzled gently, their color a soothing contrast against the darker sausages.

As the sausages cooked, they developed a beautifully caramelized exterior, their aroma intensifying into a mouth-watering scent that promised a delightful crunch. The eggs fluffed up under the gentle heat, the edges curling slightly as they cooked to perfection, their pale blue now a soft canvas for specks of pepper and a sprinkle of salt.

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With breakfast nearly ready, Abby glanced over at Nat, still slumbering deeply on the lounge. She called out to him a few times, her voice rising over the sizzle of the pan, but he didn’t stir. With a playful roll of her eyes, she approached and gave him a light smack across the head with her right hand. Startled awake, Nat’s first action was instinctive—he felt around the floor until he found his pack. He slid his hand in, pulled out his necklace and quickly clasping it around his neck, the locket catching the light.

"Breakfast's ready," Abby announced, her voice bright as the comforting, homely smell of cooked sausage and subtly sweet blue eggs filled the room. The aroma was inviting, a perfect call to start the day.

Nat mumbled sleepily, his voice a mix of appreciation and morning fog, "Smells good."

“Ever had the city’s special blue eggs?” Abby asked as she slid the plates onto the table.

“Quayal eggs? No, can’t say I have.” He yawned widely, stretching his arms as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“What time is it?” he asked, looking around vaguely as if he might spot a clock on some invisible horizon.

“Little after Nine,” she replied, glancing at the digital clock above the food dispenser. Abby began to massage the back of her neck with a tentacle, easing some tension. “I’ve decided I’m heading out to visit some friends today. I haven’t seen them since before the funeral. Kind of just hopped in a car with you and took off, you know?”

“Yeah, no problem. I need to work on the narrative, so it’ll give me some time to think.” Nat nodded, his mind already turning over the pieces of the story he was assembling.

They sat down to the prepared breakfast, the unique taste of the quayal eggs drawing a delighted hum from Nat. He savored every bite, the peculiar, mildly sweet flavor reminding him of a similar dish he had once enjoyed in the Torchbearer's hideaway.

“Take it you like them?” Abby asked, watching him with amusement as he seemed to do a subtle happy dance in his seat.

“Oh,” Nat caught himself, slightly embarrassed. “I hadn’t noticed. But yes, I do indeed enjoy these eggs.” He glanced toward the dispenser. “So, you don’t keep food in the house?”

“Just dry snacks and certain non-perishables,” Abby explained, pointing a tentacle at the dispenser. “But anything fresh comes from there. We have a hundred Silver King budget in the Points through that machine every two months. Since I wasn’t here, it rolled over, so I have double this time.”

“Interesting…” Nat murmured, his gaze lingering on the machine thoughtfully. “Do the slums have access to this as well?”

“Yeah, but their budget is only a hundred Bronze Kings,” Abby replied.

“It’s wonderful to have food provided like this and not have to worry about storing it,” Nat mused.

“Yes, this was one of Sevas’ first acts as High King, sixty years ago. Back then, there was a severe drug epidemic in the slums that even spread to the Points, and people were starving. He used his family’s wealth to kickstart the program.”

“Seems to have been very successful.” Nat paused. “So why focus on food? Why not directly combat the epidemic?”

“It was a means of providing nutrition without the worry of people selling their food to buy more drugs, as theoretically, the food is worthless outside the home.”

“I see. Did it help solve the drug problem?”

“It did at first, but then twenty years later, it indirectly made it worse, creating a black market down there for Points food.”

“That’s a shame.” Nat fell silent, contemplating the complexities of such social policies.

As Abby stood to clear the dishes, she paused to smile at Nat. “Thanks for the fresh flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful.”

Nat froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Flowers?” he mumbled, confused. He hadn’t brought any flowers. Slowly, he turned to look at the vase she was referring to. Indeed, there was a fresh bouquet of vibrant flowers that he had not noticed before. “Oh, yeah, thought you’d like them,” he lied quickly, masking his confusion.

After Abby had left the house, Nat’s feeling of unease grew. He wandered over to the thermostat, the hub of the house’s automated systems, and began checking the access logs. What he found sent a chill down his spine. The log showed "Erik" had accessed the house ten times while Abby was gone, including an entry just two hours before they had arrived the previous day. His concern deepened—someone was threatening Abby, or worse. He resolved to meet with Thane’s Narrator soon to discuss these unsettling developments.

With a growing sense of dread tightening in his chest, Nat initiated a methodical search of the house. His movements were quiet, almost stealthy, as he navigated from room to room with a sharp eye for discrepancies. The house, usually so familiar and welcoming, now felt like a labyrinth of shadows and secrets. Each room offered a canvas for potential clues, and Nat's earlier oversight with the fresh flowers haunted him—it was an anomaly he couldn't afford to ignore.

As he sifted through Abby's belongings, his touch was gentle, almost reverent, but his mind raced with dark possibilities. The tranquil ambiance of the home now seemed a deceptive facade. What else had he overlooked? What deeper secrets did Abby’s seemingly peaceful home conceal?

In the living room, his gaze swept over the shelves and the neatly arranged furniture. Everything appeared in order, yet the normalcy of it all made him even more suspicious. He checked behind cushions, under furniture, examining each area for hidden compartments or anything that felt out of place. Nothing.

Moving to the kitchen, he scrutinized the area around the dispenser where Abby had prepared their breakfast. He paused, noting nothing amiss except for the lingering scent of the quayal eggs that somehow made the silence around him even more pronounced.

His search then led him back to the main room, the central hub of the house. Here, the digital interface of the thermostat blinked innocuously. Approaching it, Nat scrolled through digital logs and system notifications with a growing apprehension. His expertise as a Narrator made him acutely aware of the significance of digital footprints in uncovering hidden truths.

That's when he spotted it—an anomaly in the pattern of digital entries. Tucked in the corner of the hub, under a stack of digital manuals and outdated entertainment feeds, lay a letter. It was unmistakably written on the thick, textured paper used exclusively by Narrators for official communications. The letter was crisply folded, its edges sharp and precise, addressed to him in a flowing, elegant script that seemed to dance with an implicit urgency.

Nat's heart quickened as he picked up the letter, his fingertips brushing against the coarse paper. With the letter in hand, he moved to the lounge, the earlier scene of his unwitting oversight. He sank into the same spot where he had slept, unfolding the letter with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

As he read the first lines, his expression shifted from concern to a wry smirk. The contents of the letter, though still unfolding, were clearly going to complicate their already tangled narrative further. “Definitely have my work cut out for me here,” he mumbled to himself, a spark of challenge lighting his eyes as he delved deeper into the message that might just unravel the mysteries of Abby's house—or tie them in even tighter knots.