You checked your phone first thing in the morning. And you told yourself the following:

‘Good Morning, Frisk. It’s Wednesday, 7 AM.’

You tried to remember what happened in the later half of yesterday.

You arrived home at long last.

You met up with Snakeface outside.

You unlocked the door with the thought of making lunch for yourself while you wait.

Hmm. After your meal, you tried to loan Mom’s robes to Gaelic. He can’t keep running around half-naked.

Except, her clothes ended up being too wide and too long. Then you thought of loaning your wardrobe. You ditched the idea immediately.

Garamond’s spare clothes were more to his size. At least the robes served as a nice blanket of sorts.

In the meantime, you also unloaded all the lockboxes from the boot and hauled them to your room. Boy, those were heavy.

You hit the bed not long after 8 pm, right after dinner. You had been deprived of a good rest and the hospital bed didn’t cut it either.

Eleven hours of sleep, huh? Geez, that’s too much. No wonder you felt so groggy.

You dragged yourself out of bed for your morning routine.

Does this mean you have to make breakfast for everyone? Ugh, more cooking was not on your agenda. Perhaps you should go with some toasted bread instead?

You walked down the stairs. Cold winds rotated in your living room, making themselves right at home.

How odd.

Upon closer inspection, the culprit was… another broken window!

FIRST TEM’S KITCHEN, NOW YOURS?

WHY MUST SNAKEFACE KEEP BREAKING WINDOWS???

WHO THE HECK DOES HE THINK HE IS????? PAPYRUS?????

Then again, they’re both skeletons. Is this a skeleton habit?

That’s it! You must teach him how to use doors. It’s now the first point on your agenda.

You pulled the curtains to prevent people from peeping inside.

Off to the kitchen you went. You noticed something sitting on the chopping board.

There’re two pieces of raw, whole poultry. Tiny things. Could they be ‘spring chickens’?

No. The meat looks way too dark. Reminds you of raw liver.

…You’re not confident enough to cook meat yet. Where did this come from? What are you going to do? Fridge them? Should you turn on your PC and look up for tips?

You heard the rustling of paper bags behind you. Oh, it’s Mister Garamond with groceries.

He seems surprised to see you.

“Good morning.” he said, “You’re up early.”

To be honest, you were up way late for the time you went to bed. That’s not normal. Did he manage to buy the goods from the local market?

“Yes,” he replied. “You weren’t around to hear the news, but the curfew lightened up last night.”

Oh?

“Upon King Asgore’s advice. Businesses opened, supply trucks flowed in, and people got to work. I saw some children heading to school as well.”

So, life returned to a semi-normal state?

“Yes. Though all facilities will close earlier than usual. Do you wish to attend class?”

Garamond’s gotta be kidding. There’s no way you can do your Crimson Keeper job and attend school at the same time.

At this rate, school may have to wait for next year. Keeping the world intact comes first.

“Hmm,” he pondered. “You’re right. But missing your education will be detrimental in the long run.”

Yeah… You would have to try catch up over the summer. Or in the Hub. Doctor Gaster is a great teacher! He’ll definitely help.

“That’s a relief.” Garamond took off his trenchcoat and gloves. Rolling up his sleeves, he said, “Excuse me. I’ll try to prepare breakfast.”

Pointing to the mystery poultry, you had to ask…

‘What are those?’

“Pigeons.”

…Pigeons? The same birds people feed for fun in city squares and parks?

“Yes.”

You’re shocked. Are they safe to eat? Never know what they’ve consumed beforehand.

“Gaelic said these two are safe for human consumption. I trust him: he hunts for House Berendin.”

Huh… interesting.

Does Garamond know how to cook them?

He scratched the back of his skull. “I, uh, only have Lady Lucidia’s written instructions to go by. Why not have a look?”

Heh. It’s a simple bird-on-chopped vegetable roast, with some bacon on the breast to prevent it from drying out.

Isn’t this more of a lunch or dinner thing…?

“It’s the only recipe that doesn’t require knowledge of butchering. The bird can be cooked whole. And, I won’t burn the vegetables.”

Hmm. Well, okay. We could strip the leftovers into a sandwich filling. But, with a bird so small between three people… that’s not likely to happen.

“Oh. Don’t worry about Gaelic. He already had his breakfast. The remaining pigeons are for us.”

That’s sweet of him. In his own wild way.

Where’s he anyway? Home?

“On the mountain,” Garamond replied. “Something about mushrooms and herbs. It did rain yesterday.”

* * *

Phew. What a hearty breakfast. The taste of pigeon was a hybrid between chicken and beef. It’s stronger than conventional meats, but nothing compared to snails and badghetti.

You checked your phone. You had a personal direct message from Cenna.

HotAndSpicy

Frisky. Message me the moment you finish your breakfast.

You typed back:

Shining Star

I’m here.

HotAndSpicy

Can you get yourself in position for a live vid in about 10 mins?

Official business.

Accept the first private number that beams through.

Shining Star

No probs.

You informed Garamond that your sister needs to contact you.

“Acknowledged.” He said, proceeding to stack the plates and clean the kitchen.

Hmm. Snakeface still hadn’t come back yet. You wondered if he got lost, or tangled up in some trouble.

You hoped nothing happened.

For now, you went to your room, turned on the PC, booted the client for your broadcast, and waited for a private number to contact you…

Accept.

To your surprise, Chara was the one on the other side of the line.

“Greetings, Frisk.” They said, “I’m playing a stand-in for Lady Lucidia today. She’s busy and blah blah blah. Anyways I’m supposed to give you a status update.”

Go on. Shoot.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Good news: mister fiery bartender is awake. Other than a huge, splitting headache associated with exhaustion, he’s fine. According to Lady Lucy’s timetable, Grillby’s family is set to visit him today.”

That’s a huge relief! Wait. He has family?

“Ahuh. Pretty sizable by monster standards too. Four cousins. Parents still around. Grillby is the only bachelor.”

“Remember Fuku Fire and Warm Torchguy? They’re his youngest niece and nephew.”

Ooooh!

…You’re a bit creeped out of how much information Lady Lucidia has on her fingertips.

“Get used to it. Intel is her game.”

“Okay. Up next…” Chara took a moment to read the notes in a different window.

“Undyne is no longer a bright red lobster. Still got some splotches here and there, but otherwise the docs gave her the okay for a discharge. She’s not leaving without Dad though. So she’s still gonna remain at the hospital.”

Expected development on the last bit. What’s next?

“Goopdoc actually changed his tune. He was super uncooperative before. Now he’s giving it his all. I dunno what happened in the interrogation chamber.”

Um. No torture involved, right?

“Har har. Nice one. We always were on the same wavelength. But, nah. That won’t work on the doc.”

Chara looked left and right, then leaned forward to the microphone.

“I saw this guy in a hooded cloak yesterday. All black-and-red. Spotted him in the hallway while I was packing extra junk food before departure. I think that’s the legendary ‘Grandmaster’.”

W-wait! Isn’t that the man who helped you out in the Sans fiasco?!

“Oh, you met him before? I hear he’s the REAL top dog of the Magus Association. Not Tsunderjudge.”

“So. With goopdoc no longer being a pain in the butt, the adults got together for a meeting.”

You guessed that Mom and Dad flexed their diplomatic muscles.

“Bingo, smart cookie. We had some hot negotiation action.”

“…Actually it’s Mom and Undyne who were dishing out the most heat. You know Dad: with enough self-pity points, he’ll just sacrifice himself without a second thought.”

You nodded twice.

Did they finalize their terms and conditions yet?

“Not yet, they still need your input. Think of it as drafting a proposal. I’m sure they’ll contact you tomorrow.”

“Meanwhile, you have better things to do. Your bodyguard informed Lady Lucy that you picked up Snakeface. Stopped his invasion at Tem House too. Yay.”

Chara doesn’t sound happy at all…

“Because I would rather have him locked up in a dungeon. As for the key? Flushed down the toilet!”

How cruel.

“I don’t care. My time in Gungnir was pretty shitty. But, there’s some stuff that I agree with. Such as: ‘don’t tempt fate by taming wild animals’.”

“You know, in the days of yore, rulers employed my people to kill any beasts that stalked their settlements. Those creatures were deadly pests. Vermin. Be very, very wary of them. It’s kill or be killed, y’know.”

The flower rubbed their forehead, sighing.

“Look. Frisk. That guy. He’s way, waaaay too much for Azzie and I to handle. Wanna know how our first meeting went? He tried to eat our petals! I’m not kidding.”

Even though they’re plants?! Here you thought only creatures look tasty.

“YES. That guy eats everything! And I mean EVERYTHING! Even nasty veggies like us aren’t safe!!! The only reason we’re okay is thanks to the Tsunderjudge.”

“If it’s up to me, I’d rather you help us get Papyrus better. Let Snakeface rot by the wayside.”

P-Papyrus? What happened to him?!

“Classified,” huffed Chara. “He’s awake. Eating. And Azzie is taking care of him. That’s all I can say.”

“Heh. That Azzie. Surprising change from his Underground psychobrat self, huh? This fussy, caring Asriel is more like how I remembered him.”

Le gasp. Does that mean there are improvements on feeling love and compassion?

“Nah. Not at all. Both of us still feel jack squat in that department. But he remembers what’s it like. Thanks to you.”

“Anyways, for your assignment. You need to get Gaelic sane enough to hold a proper conversation.”

That’s… not what you expected. Why so?

“Because he must be able to follow your instructions. And have fine motor control. And also, not eat everything he comes across.”

Hmm. That sounds like a lot of work.

“Bingo again. Now you understand why I would rather have Papyrus? A loud silly glory hog he may be, he’s way more predictable.”

“Alas! What can we do? The Trashbag fucked everyone over.”

It’s fine, Chara. You don’t find it a bother. You want to befriend him anyway.

“Good for you. Now go and ask your sis for tips.”

Can do. Anything else?

“Nope. I’ll call again another day. Keep your phone charged. See ya.”

Bye Chara. Well, Cenna is next…

Three rings later, she picked up. “Yo Frisky! You’re up to date I take?”

Ahuh. Heard about the assignment too. Gotta get Gaelic back on track.

“Aw yis, time for me to shine! Okay Frisky, how is he at the moment?”

Kinda hard to tell. Snakeface’s not home. Out hunting and foraging. He got you some pigeon meat!

“Oh really? Great news there, Frisky. It means he still recalls you’re his friend.”

But, he broke out this morning. Through your house window!

“Crap. That means he forgot how to use a door again…”

How is that even possible?

“Long story. Anyways, you wanna lead him toward human-specific activities. Like, listen to some songs. Hymns. Folk tunes. Simple stuff. Then wait wait wait Mez what the heck are you tryin--”

Cenna’s voice faded into the background. She protested something about ‘stealing my phone’ and ‘giving it back’.

Ever severe, Mezil Thyme asked: “What do you think of Gaelic?”

Knew it. Bad Tsunderjudge! You puffed your cheeks and demanded that he return the device to its rightful owner. This instant!

“I will do so after we clarify some details.”

You sighed. Okay, fine. You asked if he wants to specify his question further. It’s too vague.

“Do you consider him a man, a beast, or a cute pet? Be honest about it.”

Uh… You don’t mean to be offensive, but your impressions lean between ‘cute pet’ and ‘beast’ territory.

“Has anyone told you to lock him up in a cage and throw away the key?”

What the heck?!?! Is he psychic?? Did time rewind while you were sleeping???

Mezil huffed. “I’ve lived long enough to hear every objection under the sun.”

More so with the Keys of Fate?

“Yes.”

Good point. If that’s the case… yeah. ‘Someone’ did tell you to do that.

“An impatient folly.” the Tsunderjudge replied. “Perish that thought from your mind. Remember your Underground adventures. Offer your grace to him and you will be blessed a hundredfold.”

You can do that.

“Are you certain?”

Yes, sir. Super certain.

“Very well then. I will be giving the phone back to Cenna now. You may continue your inquiries.”

Just like that, the Tsunderjudge’s gone.

You had a feeling that your difficulty meter just keeps on ramping up since your pinkie-swear with Sans in early winter.

You asked Cenna why the Tsunderjudge was being extra tsun.

“He hasn’t slept.” she replied. “That’s bound to make anyone cranky. Plus, he’s extra worried about you. And Gael. Together.”

“Y’know Frisky. If this is too much, I’ll help ya out. Get discharged early and roll over to Ebott. I got ten years of experience in handling the loony bin.”

…Only if the doctors give the all clear. Last thing you want now is some random infection tossing more spanners in the works.

“No problemo! I’ll try to weasel out under ol’ Mez’s nose while he’s sleeping. Can only stand being cooped up around him for so long.”

You giggled. Yep. You totally absolutely certainly see why.

“The earliest I can ‘discharge’ will be… noon tomorrow?”

That’s late! Can’t she do it noon today?

“Nope. No can do. Already got myself busted once. Gotta lay low for a little while longer. In the meantime follow my phone tips. So hold out until then, okay?”

* * *

You checked your phone first thing in the morning. And you told yourself the following:

‘Good Morning, Frisk. It’s Wednesday, 7 AM.’

You tried to remember what happened in the later half of yesterday.

First, you tried to teach Gaelic how to use the door. It was a colossal failure as he kept taking the same old path of least resistance. Oh well.

Then you opened a box of children’s board games. Tried to play Snakes and Ladders with him. Pun intended. Rolling dice and counting steps are what sentient beings do.

Surprisingly, Gaelic understood numbers better than proper entrances. You don’t get it. But, you’ll take any victory… even if you did lose the game.

Dinner was more pasta, topped with butter-sauteed canned snails and wild mushrooms, accompanied with a bowl of fresh wild herbs: aromatic, bitter stuff.

Garamond loved the greens. After tasting a few bits, you had enough and passed the remainders to him.

Oh man. The ingredients alone would have racked up a three-digit price tag in the city. Yet you’re having it for almost free. Was it okay to have that kind of decadence?

You went to bed. Woke up to a brand new Thursday morning--

HOLD ON A BLOODY MOMENT!!!!

WHY IN THE HECK IS IT WEDNESDAY AGAIN???

You scrolled through your contact list posthaste. Crap! You didn’t have Tsunderjudge’s number! Going full Undyne mode, you slammed the side of your fist on the bed.

You dashed into the toilet. A full bladder feels awkward no matter the circumstance.

Once that business was done, you ran out of your room. Still in your jammies to boot.

There’s that cold blast of air. That broken window…

And there are STILL two dressed pigeons on the chopping board.

It’s Wednesday alright.

Ready to look for Garamond, you slipped on your jacket, reached for your keys--

Only to realize they’re not on the keyholder.

…Of course. In hindsight, that made a ton of sense. There’s no way Garamond could safely lock your house without borrowing your keys.

He should be back soon. In the last RESET, he came home while you were pondering over the poultry. That’s after you took your sweet time on your morning routine.

You paced around in the living room. C’mon, what’s taking him so long?

Then you heard the clatterings of keys. You darted to him the moment he entered.

“Is something wrong, Frisk?” asked Garamond.

A RESET happened!

“Reset…? Wait, you meant the cosmos rewound? We’re in the past?”

Yes! Exactly!

Garamond dropped the bag of groceries. You caught it before the contents spilled everywhere.

Without an extra word, the cool detective skeleton sped out of your home…

Your phone rang. You answered it.

It’s Tsunderjudge.

Explanation, please???

“The moment they’re within your reach, mark both Blanc cousins as your proxy. Align their memories to yours in linear time.”

“Gaelic’s combination inflicts invasive dejavu, leading to confusion and accidental injuries. Prevention is better than cure in this case. Lest you want him to suffer on every SAVE and LOAD.”

You shuddered for a moment. W-what about Sans? Lady Lucidia?

“Worry not. Their Aspects are more data-oriented. They don’t share Gaelic’s bane.”

Thanks for the tip. But you still wanna know what is up with the timey-wimey shenanigans. You’re his only Crimson Keeper, and you deserve the insider info.

“Tsk. Demanding. Don’t expect me to indulge your every whim. Nonetheless, this is related to the folk of Ebott Town. I’ll brief you based on that connection.”

“The Gungnir’s new leader has at least a Minor Red. As such, I need to know if he has a system to record timelines. And how.”

Oh.

Oooooooh.

That’s some true serious business.

Man, trouble already? The Crimson Hall fallout was just three days ago. You still haven’t adjusted to the post-Sans fiasco.

“Hmph. Work waits for no man.” said Mezil, “If you seek rest, the repeating days can be a boon for you. Be a kid. Continue the bonding moments. Do whatever you want as long it’s disposable.”

“Your proxies will remember along with you.”

A vacation sounds great. Even though it’s kinda a forced one…

Hey! If that’s the case, why didn’t Mezil warn you earlier? You were happily playing with Gaelic before the RESET. You could have plastered a proxythingy on him back then and saved a lot of trouble.

Seconds of silence passed by…

“An Investigator was found dead in the previous timeline. Early Thursday, past midnight.”

That… that doesn’t sound good. At all.

“Yes. And if the HQ’s fire is of any indication, we might have traitors in our midst.”

“I cannot allow them to plan a counterattack. The longer I delay, the more advantage they will gain.”

It would have been nicer if Mezil said that he just forgot to give you instructions. Like a normal human being would.

“You and your silly wishes. What do you think this is, a slice of life?”

Yeah. Stacked up as a good, tasty pigeon sandwich.

“Hmph. You can have your slices of pigeon sandwich with the Blancs. Under normal circumstances, I would have summoned Gaelic for a hunt. But the current arrangement is to our mutual benefit. As accidental as it may be.”

“If the Gungnir switches their primary target to you, they will serve as your sword and shield.”

Garamond’s obvious. Reliable fellow. Gaelic on the other hand…

If the Temmie Incident was of any indication, you have serious doubts. Though he does appear to be an anti-Living Victory unit of sorts.

Either way, you promise Mezil that you’ll take care of them.

“Thank you. Please enjoy the rest of the day. I mean it.”

Will do!

Hope Garamond and Gaelic will come back soon, safe and sound. There’s too much pigeon meat for you alone. Also there’s a Snakes and Ladders game to beat. You need to live up to your title as a Living Victory, after all!

Heh. Seems like you’ve grown rather fond of your new friends.

If only Snakeface could stop breaking windows…