Another day of school had ended. You packed your books with the intent to leave as soon as possible.

“Really?!”

Monster Kid’s exclamation caught your attention. You asked him what’s going on.

“Yo, Frisk, did you hear? Sans… Sans is injured! Super duper injured!”

You nodded, confirming to Kid that you’ve heard about it.

Still in disbelief, he questioned, “How? Why? He’s only a comedian. Why would anyone hurt him? Papyrus said he got injured twice! TWICE!”

You were reminded that, for the majority of monsters, there was no such thing as ‘Sans Serif the Tactician’. To them, there was only ‘Sans the Comedian’ or ‘Sans the Skeleton’: the local funny guy who bums at Grillby’s.

Should you tell Kid that he’s secretly a badass? No. That’s a burden too heavy to bear.

Instead, you tell him that Sans was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and did his best to fight back. You also let him know that you’re visiting him again after school. Was there anything that Kid wanted to pass on?

“Um, shucks. I don’t have anything prepared. Wait, let me make a quick get-well card.”

He ripped out a page from his sketchbook and picked up a crayon with his mouth. Within a minute, he wrote ‘GET WELL MISTER SANS’ and drew some simple flowers. Satisfied, he picked up the paper with his mouth and said: “Dwone.”

You accepted the ‘card’ and kept it safe between a book. Sans would appreciate it very much.

Dad then knocked on the classroom door. That’s your cue to leave. Mom had to stay in school to finish up some headmistress duties, therefore Dad had to be your chauffeur.

You waved goodbye to Kid and wished him a safe trip home.

“Stay safe too, Frisk!” Kid replied, “I’m rooting for ya.”

That was a Sans quote, wasn’t it? Nonetheless, you thanked Kid for the well wishes.

You tucked your schoolbag on your back and joined Dad. It’s about 3 PM right now: 2 hours before the big meeting with Tsunderjudge.

Dad asked: “Home first, am I right?”

Yup. You took out your phone and showed him a message from Lady Lucy. That email had a backdrop made to look like a real piece of parchment, complete with a faux wax seal on it.

“Oh my. It looks like you have received another official mission as a Crimson Keeper.” Dad’s expression darkened after reading the notes. “Hmm, I see. We cannot hide anymore, can we?”

Yeah. Lady Lucy thought it’s about time to come clean to Roger Eldin.

First stop, your house. You lived reasonably close to school, near enough to walk on some days. The journey there doesn’t take long.

It was a quick drive. Dad then parked his pickup truck at the front porch. You hopped out of the car and ran ahead to get a headstart. There’s quite a bit of stuff to pack.

First, you pocketed the brass casing of The Trap Harvester. It used to house powerful magic, but right now it’s just a metal shell of its former self. It still has a purpose though: Lady Lucy’s letter mentioned that you need proof of your lineage. You wondered, who else knew about your biological parents?

Then came the time to lug the mementos of The Six to the pickup truck, plus Chara’s locket. Dad helped speed up the process.

“Do you think this is a good idea, my child?”

You told Dad that it may be the best idea. Perhaps if you present them to Copman, his opinions about the Dreemurr Family might improve. You certainly hope so.

“I hope so too,” he replied.

Once the boxes were loaded on the back. You pulled a rain tarp over the seven lockboxes to prevent prying eyes from looking. Then, you’re off to Alphys’ Lab.

Wondering about Undyne’s mission, you asked Dad if she got roasted by Copman. She’d been silent since yesterday.

With a slight smile, he replied: “Actually, Undyne passed with flying colours. She is working together with Commissioner Eldin right now. I suppose she was too busy to respond.”

The news shocked you. Undyne of all people passed Copman’s strict standards?!? You know how zany she can be. Remember last winter’s hockey session?

“Hahaha, yes I do. I am very sure she kept to her best behaviour. We did warn her beforehand.”

That was indeed true.

On the road, you spotted the fish in question instructing the Dog Clan and a bunch of human law enforcers. Two of them rode non-monster horses.

…Yep. She’s definitely busy.

Your ride to the Lab was smoother and faster than expected. There was hardly any traffic on the road. You saw monsters going around for errands, but nobody lounged around despite the good weather.

The air of caution had never left the town since the curfew began…

Soon after, you arrived at your destination. It’s obvious who owns the police ride, and you recognized Tsunderjudge’s vehicle, but there’s an extra grey-blue car. Did someone else arrive while you were at school?

You heard… laughter? How curious. Who had the mood to laugh with all the tension at the border? Well, first thing’s first. Secure the goods. This would be the worst time to lose them to a thief!

You carried three lockboxes while Dad carried four. Then you rang the doorbell, hoping that someone would answer soon. They were pretty bulky.

Alphys answered the door. “Oh! You’ve arrived. Come right in.”

She guided you to the nearest table. You and Dad arranged all seven containers into a neat row.

You proceeded to open them. All the mementos were safe and intact: from the Cyan Child’s toy knife to Chara’s locket.

Mission number 1, accomplished! When you turned around, you realised that four total strangers approached you. Not one, but four. Imagine that.

The first stranger to catch your attention was an almost 2-meter tall lanky man with a sense of style that’s best described as a cross between Garamond and Tsunderjudge. From the lack of colour in his hair and the wrinkles on his face, he’s definitely grandpa-level. Somewhere about his early 60s?

The second stranger was a slightly younger elder who’s bald on the front. He tied whatever remaining hair he had into a short ponytail, wore glasses, while donning a style that reminded you of Grillby without the bartender’s vest. He also sported a well-kept goatee.

The third stranger was a… young girl with blue eyes? Her auburn hair matched the balding guy. Father and daughter? Maybe? You don’t get the vibe that she’s a Magus. Her presence confused you. Why would a normal teenager be here?

The fourth stranger was a well-built man in a jacket and blue jeans. He had his chestnut-brown hair tied up in a top-knot. Finally, a person with a modern sense of fashion. But upon closer observation, you noticed that you couldn’t tell if he’s an Oriental or an Occidental. He seemed to be a person of mixed descent, just like you.

The girl tried to estimate your height with her hand. “Is this cute tiny kid really Uncle Mezil’s Crimson Keeper?”

Uncle Mezil? Did she just say ‘Uncle’ Mezil?!

“What’s so weird about that?” She seemed a bit offended. “He’s my mother’s younger brother. Well, I guess you wouldn’t know. Heck, I didn’t even know that my uncle is the world’s coolest uncle until the day before yesterday!”

The balding guy said, “Rosemary, your uncle kept his work life a secret to protect you.”

“Your father is right,” Said the top-knot man. “Getting us caught in the crossfire is the last thing he wants. Besides, Seonbae must have his reasons to choose this kid.”

The cool tall grandpa examined you while rubbing his chin. On a whim, you decided to mimic every action he took.

When he squinted, you squinted.

When he raised his hand, you raised your hand.

When he started running on the spot, heck you followed too.

He chuckled at you. “Gosh, they’re adorable alright! After a closer look, I can see why Mez picked them out of everyone else. They’re really plucky.”

His balding friend pondered out loud. “Pluckier than Mezil himself when he was that age?”

“I’m hesitant to even draw comparisons between you two, because when was the last time someone their age did this much in the span of six months?”

It seems that your town never fails to attract the peculiar. Then again, didn’t Cenna mention something about some ‘fabulous chums who’ve known Mezil for 40 years’? You asked if they’re them.

“Well… It’s more nuanced than that. Let’s get on with the introductions first.”

The cool grandpa took a step back and bowed to you and your Dad, “The name’s Edmund Moriarty Junior, Private Investigator by trade. I’m technically Mezil’s second cousin once removed, but for all intents and purposes you can consider me his uncle.”

He extended his hand for a friendly shake. You shook back with a smile.

“Jacob Westenberg,” said the balding one. Placing his hands on the girl’s shoulders, he added, “And this is my daughter, Rosemary.”

“Hi!” She waved cheerfully.

Aha, they were indeed father and daughter! You shook hands with them too. If Rosemary’s mother is Mezil’s sister, does that make Jacob his brother-in-law?

“That’s correct,” Jacob adjusted his glasses. “I never thought it would end up that way.”

Rosemary huffed. “I’m shocked mom got married at all, let alone with you.”

“Rose!”

Yup. That’s classic teenager talk alright. Sounded like Rosemary didn’t have the best relationship with her mother.

What about the last guy? You tried to guess his relationship with Mezil. Colleague? Teammate? Rival? Friend? You don’t know what ‘Seonbae’ means, but it sounds similar to ‘Senpai’.

“All four, but at different points of time.” Lowering himself a bit while extending his hand to you, the man introduced himself: “Victor Fitzroy. About ‘Seonbae’, you’re right. It’s exactly the same meaning as ‘Senpai’. You’re quite a smart kid, aren't you?”

Thus you quipped that you can’t be a Crimson Keeper by being dumb!

…Wait, was he serious? Four relationship statuses, but at different points of time? You were just covering all your bases there.

“It’s a long story, but Mezil was my senior.” Victor replied. “I was sharing some of my training days with Rosemary and Miss Alphys. He drilled me like I’m an actor who’s about to perform on stage.”

Senior? Training? Acting? You tilted your head in confusion.

“Maybe I should demonstrate. I haven’t done it in years. So, forgive me if it didn’t come out well. Eherm…”

Victor’s demeanor changed on the flip of a switch. His stance became sturdy, intimidating, and confident in a familiar way.

With a finger gun for his left hand, he declared: “You who declare yourselves heroes, take up my challenge! Prove to me the value of your justice!”

Those lines!

That pose!

The vibe!

It’s 1-to-1 with Tsunderjudge!

You burst let out the biggest intentionally-overdramatic gasp. Victor’s The Harbinger… V2?!

“Oh? Have you played that game before? The world still exists, but it has changed considerably over its long run. I feel like a foreigner there.”

You’ve heard legends about Mezil, but you’ve never seen the actual game before.

“I see… Well, you are still too young for an account.” He sounded a bit sad at first, but he returned to his usual self soon enough. “Originally, I was supposed to completely take over his character as his successor. It didn’t work out. When I try to say his lines, they always come out a little bit corny. I still don’t know how he does it, to be honest.”

You’re even more confused. You thought he nailed it pretty well.

“That was the easiest line, actually. Being his version of The Harbinger requires a certain level of finesse. Dark and serious, without it being too overt. The suspension of disbelief would be lost otherwise. I still remember how hard he sighed over my performance, muttering that ‘it’s not going to work’.”

Of course, of course. That’s very much in character for the tsun. Since he couldn’t replace his role, then they had to make Harbinger V2 a brand new character.

“That’s right. I only inherited the title. The plot was that V1 was vanquished by a great hero, ending his ten-year rule. It was a rather huge deal as the Harbinger had never lost before.”

Never?

“Never.”

Woooooooow…

Does that mean the game inflicts perma-death like in real life?

“No. My other peers were revived from their defeats many times. It’s just that Seonbae wanted to get an accounting degree. The story had to be written in a way to accommodate his leave.”

Alphys being Alphys, burst out in a stream of geek talk. “I-i-it’s a reverse isekai! The Harbinger was killed and reincarnated into OUR world and he eventually married a true waifu and became the boss of The Magus Association! This should be a light novel, a manga, AND an anime adaptation!”

From the way Victor laughed, he knew exactly what she was nerding out about.

Hmmmm… knowing the Tsun, he wanted to get that accounting degree as backup for his older years. Little did he expect that he would be putting it to darn good use.

Then, when you least expected it, Rosemary the teenager blurted out the following: “Victor, you left out the part where you were the ‘great hero’ who finished off Uncle Mezil.”

Instant. Shock. You let out a loud ‘WHAT?!?’

Immediately Victor placed a finger on his lips. “Shhh, Rose they don’t need to know that.”

“Aw c’mon give yourself some credit! Your victory was the reason why Uncle Mezil hired you as his successor at all. No one else had the skills and smarts to successfully infiltrate The Harbinger’s base! If you’d gone through the front door like everyone else it would have been a total wipe.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“I, um, nevermind.”

Hmmmmm…

Victor once defeated the Tsun, and the Tsun hired him.

You once defeated the Tsun, and Tsun also hired you.

You’re starting to see a trend here.

Edmund raised his hand to get their attention. “So, now you know our gambitting madlad isn’t invincible. Plus, he can’t do everything alone.”

Pointing to himself, Jacob, and Victor, he introduced: “And that’s where we come in. We caught wind that Mez is running shorthanded. We’re part of The Barfellows, a team of which I’m the de-facto leader. Our job is to help the cops and Magi whenever the bad guys go to places that they can’t reach. You’ll be surprised how many cracks and loopholes exist out there.”

“By the way, your sister said you’re the one with the Wanderstar heirloom now. Mind showing it to me?”

You took out the Trap Harvester’s casing and presented it to Edmund.

“There’s no mistaking it,” he commented. “You’re Valiant and Mirai’s child.”

Valiant?

Mirai?

Were those your parents’ names? This is the first time you had heard of them…

Edmund grimaced, “Seriously, Mez never told you?! You’re their very own child! What the heck is he thinking?”

Jacob commented, “I’m not surprised, Ed. Mezil never took their demise well. It’s hard, especially when their names combine to spell out ‘a brave future’. He kept muttering about retirement since then.”

Huh. You kinda forgot about that. That was a major point in your Trial of the Crimson Hall, wasn’t it? You were supposed to be Judge Thyme’s successor ten years from now. If he was that bummed out, no wonder he wanted to quit.

“Ten years?” Edmund shook his head. “Too soon, even for a genius.”

Victor frowned at your statement too. “I agree. The Seonbae I know would have made it at least fifteen, especially when you have a lot of childhood left to go. Though I suppose it’s possible he believes that he can only hold his position for so long. What do you think, Edmund?”

“That guy is due for a big round of beer with us, that’s for sure. Mez being in a deeper hot boiling pickle that we have no clue about? It’s more likely than you think! Meanwhile… the little one here needs some good ol’ ears, right?”

You pointed at yourself, puzzled.

“See, I can tell that you haven’t had a break in quite a while. Your breath’s as quick as your feet. Bet you rushed from school on the first notice, zooming from one place to another. Clearly you need to wind down. But you don’t want to wind down, do you? There’s too much weighing on your conscience that you’re not yet ready to confront.”

Oh. My. God. That level of observation… he’s like Sans!

“The same guy in critical condition? I saw that MTT news moment too. Is he the root of your troubles?”

It’s… complicated.

“Those kinds of cases, huh? Well kid, sometimes people just need a stranger to talk to. No burden or attachments involved. Jacob can confirm that, being the boss bartender of his joint.”

…You grabbed Edmund’s arm with great determination. Then, you led him and the other human visitors to Sans’ ward.

To your surprise, they had moved him out of the cool sci-fi pod and into a normal hospital bed. That’s good news, right? It meant that he’s stable enough to not depend on machine support.

The other thing you noticed was that Lady Lucy kept her mask on. You guess she expected a whole slew of visitors after Roger’s warning. There were many normal human folks about, and it’s doubtful that any of them had clearance to see her true face.

And then there was Papyrus. He rested his skull on Sans’ cranium, burning his Eye under Lady Lucidia’s supervision. His tricolour flames were stronger and more vibrant than you remembered.

“Stop,” Lady Lucy commanded.

And so Papyrus obeyed the command, shutting off his Eye immediately. He straightened up and wiped the sweat off his skull.

She asked: “Have you found anything?”

With a disappointed sigh, he replied: “ALL I SAW WAS PITCH BLACK DARKNESS. I COULD FEEL A TINGE OF MY BROTHER’S SUFFERING, BUT I WAS UNABLE TO REACH HIM.”

“It’s as I have feared: your Bravery is insufficient to close the gaps. Can you describe more of what you felt?”

“HE… IS DESPERATELY TRYING TO KEEP A PROMISE. I’M REMINDED OF HOW SERIOUSLY HE TAKES THOSE.”

“Affirmative. I will record your observation.”

“THANK YOU FOR ENTERTAINING MY REQUEST. I’M AWARE THAT MY CHANCES OF SUCCESS WERE SLIM TO NONE.”

“Papyrus, I’m happy that you’ve asked for my assistance. It’s much safer to dive under my watch than to go through it alone.”

“I’VE LEARNED MY LESSON. PLEASE EXCUSE ME, I NEED TO GO MEET OUR NEW GUESTS.”

“Acknowledged. Just remember, I will again need your assistance with Malaya later tonight.”

“WILL DO!” Turning around, he dropped his jaw when he spotted you and the ‘new guests’ at the doorstep.

With twinkling eyes and a big happy blush, you rushed over to give Papyrus a generous hug.

Returning the favour, he yelled: “HUMAN!!!!”

You burst into a giggle. That was how he used to address you back down in the Underground! It was proof positive of his restored memories. You’re so glad to see that he’s back to normal.

“I SEE YOU’VE BROUGHT THE VISITORS TO VISIT MY BROTHER. THAT’S VERY KIND OF YOU.”

You asked if this was a bad time.

Lady Lucy said, “They may come in to give their regards, but extended stays should be limited in number.”

Noted. You showed them in and introduced the skeleton brothers. The atmosphere was rather hushed in the presence of someone so critically injured.

Rosemary asked: “Was he born with one arm?”

You answered, no. He used to have two, but you destroyed the other one. Accidentally.

“Huh?!” Rosemary gasped in shock.

Oops. It seems that you’ve mentioned something you shouldn’t have.

Edmund whispered something to Lady Lucy. Considering his status as an uncle to Tsunderjudge, you wouldn’t be surprised if they already knew each other.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Sans Serif’s right arm was paralyzed from the Gungnir attack on The Spire. He then lost it in a separate terrorist attack on Ebott Town.”

“But…” said Rosemary. “The little Crimson Keeper said they’re at fault.”

“He attended Crimson Keeper Frisk’s initiation, and thus was caught in the crossfire.”

“Oh, so that’s what they meant.”

Showing her hand to the door, Lady Lucy added: “Sir Moriarty has requested to speak with Frisk in private. We should give them some space.”

Jacob had a little mischievous smile on his face. Oh, he’s going to do a Dad move. You could feel it!

“Rose,” he said to his daughter, “I don’t think you’ve met Lady Lucidia in person.”

“Lady Lucidia?”

“Uncle Mezil’s wife.”

Instant enthusiastic interest from the girl. “Wha?! Wait, that’s Auntie Lucy?! Her hair was a lot shorter on TV!”

“It’s an editable wig,” she said. “But your father is right, we’ve not met. The last I had seen you was when you were a mere baby.”

“So not only do I have the coolest uncle, I also have the most mysterious aunt? This is so awesomeeeee!”

Edmund gave a hearty pat on his grandniece’s back. “Go on, have some quality time with your auntie and her celebrity skeleton friend.”

The Dad-level distraction was a complete success. The rest was ushered out of the ward for some fun family time.

You thanked Edmund for saving your butt. Later you would have to thank Jacob too.

“Much obliged. So, time to be your unbiased shoulder to rest on. The story might have fooled Rosemary, but I know better.”

Are you in trouble?

“Nope. Like I said, I’m here to listen. Grab a seat.”

The both of you sat by Sans’ bedside. Although in a technical coma, you saw the occasional wisps of magic leak out from underneath his left eye. He’s stuck in a fitful nightmare, unable to wake.

First thing’s first, what does Edmund think of Sans?

“Dangerous enough to make Lucy beat around the bush with polite white lies. Or try to, at least. She’s never good with silver tongued politicking, so her words feel like templates lifted from craftier folk.”

“Also, people don’t just stumble into two concerted terrorist attacks by accident. That’s like winning the lottery twice in a row. To get that kind of record, you’re either a target or a defender of sorts. Your friend here is definitely the latter.”

But! You have an objection to Edmund’s example. Wasn’t there an unfortunate guy who survived two atomic bombs by sheer luck?

He shrugged. “One in a billion is still a valid chance. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. No problems there.”

You were just being cheeky.

As much as you wanted to share your history between you and Sans, you don’t know how much he’s supposed to know. You kept quiet, fearing that you might accidentally leak more complicated top secret information.

Your behaviour didn’t go unnoticed. Edmund said, “I’m Red-Purple-Green. In Magus culture, giving out your colours is a sign of trust and friendship. Like buying a drink in the bar. Or sharing a pencil in class.”

Huh? How does he know about his SOUL? Maybe he’s a retired Crimson Keeper?

“Nah. I’m not,” he smirked. “I’m a Claimed. Category 2: Suppressed. How that happened, that’s a whole other story. The point is, my job as a Private Investigator in magical matters took me through the wildest trips. I won’t get caught off guard. Usually.”

Telling your colours is a proof of trust, huh? If that’s the case, then you’re gonna tell yours. It’s ‘Red-Red-Red’. So far, the only people who knew your true combination were your Ebottian friends and Mezil’s team. You don’t know how much longer it can be kept a secret. Sooner or later, you need to attend magic class.

“Triple Red, huh? I take that you’re a prodigy in magic, considering you fended off a titan the other day.”

Ah. Right. That. You tell Edmund that you started out as a normal kid, but you bloomed suddenly after you fell under the mountain.

“Sounds like that incident was your turning point. Awakening, so to speak. How old are you now?”

Ten going to eleven. Your birthday is in late Spring.

Edmund didn’t seem too happy to hear that. “Another ten year old. Mezil grew up too soon at that age too. ‘Wallflower Winston’, his peers called him. All because he ignored them as they ignored him. His home life was too utterly dysfunctional for the young lad to care one way or another.”

You have heard glimpses of Tsunderjudge’s lonely childhood, but it was never quite elaborated.

“Sit tight, because I’m gonna share his first life-shattering moment.”

Granduncle Edmund has you all ears.

Edmund added, “To be specific, it’s about ‘The Cursed Jalopy’.”

A jalopy? What’s a ‘jalopy’?

“An old, dilapidated car.” Edmund explained, “Connor Winston -- Mezil’s dad -- kept raving about how it’s a special edition from the Far West. Junk in my eyes, no matter how vintage or rare it used to be.”

Was it DEMON possessed?

“Nah. But it was cursed for us: a reminder of his father’s terrible financial decisions.”

…Oh. Duly noted.

“It was Mezil’s tenth birthday, on the 7th of July. School was on break. The kids had their cake while the adults had their booze. His parents got stoned drunk by the end of it all as usual. That’s when he heard something that’s gonna change his life. His dad muttered: ‘Might as well celebrate before going broke’.”

“Little kiddie Mezil did a full investigation. I don’t know how exactly he did it, but he managed to get a rough estimation of the family debt. He couldn’t read any of the legalese yet at that age, but numbers? No problem. That was his specialty. Kid’s a math whiz.”

How bad was it?

“Well, they were one step away from being declared bankrupt. We’re talking about getting ‘evicted’ and ‘property confiscated’ kind of bad. The biggest misstep was that Connor spent all his money buying that useless jalopy right before Mezil was born. You’d think that with a kid coming, they’d save for any unexpected incidents. He told me not to worry because this country has free healthcare! Sure enough, his wife Maggie and baby Mez almost died from pre-eclampsia. A big word for ‘pregnancy complications’.”

…You have a hard time imagining that such goofy parents spawned the most serious tsundere on Earth.

“I’d say that their goof was what pushed him deeper toward the opposite end of the scale. You know what’s NOT free, kid? The house, the bills, the groceries, the student loans, and that godforsaken jalopy. It costs more to repair that thing than to buy a brand new car. And then, what do you know, they both lost their jobs as museum curators. Since the jalopy made Connor as broke as a joke and twice as stupid, he had to draw more loans from the bank, putting themselves in even deeper debt. Repeat this bad habit for ten years, now you know where it all went wrong.”

The realistic and mundane nightmare of perpetual debt sent a shiver up your spine. So, what did the kiddo Tsunderjudge do?

“He did what independent kids do when they get pissed off: run away. Yeah. Mezil did exactly that. Packed his bags with necessities and money before leaving the house. His doof of a dad didn’t realise his kid ain’t coming back until the wee hours of the morning. He called me instead of calling the police. You can imagine how upset I was.”

Wow. Just, wow. It sounded like something you would have done! You can’t believe that Mezil was once a kid doing the same kid things.

What happened next?

“I found him camping in the cyber complex. Spent his days in the arcade furiously slaying every challenge there. Mez didn’t stop until I joined him in a match of one-to-one laser tag. You can see where his gun talent came from.”

Those cyber-cafe and arcade hybrids? You didn’t tell Edmund, but you had done the same trick once. You could rent a room with a computer for 24 hours. Recline a chair all the way down and it becomes a bed. It’s cheap boarding with food and entertainment.

Edmund continued, “Once my nephew was safely in my house, I dragged Connor to Jacob’s bar to hash things out. Told him that he has a son so bright and sharp that he could already understand accounting theory that I needed to take electives for. If he doesn’t get his act together, the lad might hold a grudge against him for life.”

Did his dad get an epiphany and begin a cleanup montage?

“No,” he sighed. “Connor… that damn fool. He surrendered his son to my care. Believed that he doesn’t have what it takes to raise a genius kid.”

You sat there shocked for quite a while. Did you hear that right? Wasn’t that technically abandonment?

“See, this is why I get worried when kids grow up too fast. You think of nonsense that not even the adults want to face. It’s by technicality the intent of abandonment. And that’s how I got unofficial indirect custody.”

Did he stay at Edmund’s house, growing up with his cousins?

“No. I think you may be somewhat familiar with this legal complication. Just because a person has relatives doesn’t mean that they’ll end up with them. I am legally not a direct uncle.”

The puzzle pieces clicked together. Your jaw dropped. You knew exactly what he meant. After all, Cenna pretended to be your distant aunt to test the Dreemurr’s motives.

“Looks like you grasped the predicament. As a Private Investigator, I had lawyer friends who have their own lawyer friends. We analyzed the situation top to bottom and discovered that Mez was more likely to end up in foster care than to end up with me.”

“So, we chose to keep up appearances. To the eyes of the law, his family was struggling but not sinking. An acceptable pass. Any time spent with me was considered ‘babysitting’. Jacob and I did what we could to make a child-safe space for him at our workplaces. It involved a lot of line-skirting, but we managed to pull it off.”

So… that’s what Cenna meant. She said that there were some longtime oldies who watched him grow up.

“Yup. That’s right. Hey, if you ask me, he turned out spectacular! He could have been another failed statistic, yet he’s the boss of The Magus Association.”

There’s one big fat gigantic question that’s on your mind right now.

“What would that be, little Wanderstar?”

What happened to The Cursed Jalopy? Was it sold? Buried? Vanquished?

“Vanquished!” Edmund declared, puffing his chest in pride. “Broken to pieces and banished into the nether, never to return! On Mez’s 17th birthday to boot.”

Everything came full circle. Excited, you asked Edmund to share the conclusion of his tale.

“I buttered up to Connor with some much needed dosh and a nice second-hand car. Told him I’m buying the jalopy for his son. Dude went ‘What? I thought he hated the mere sight of it’. And I replied, ‘Don’t worry about that. It’s my job to figure it out’. And so he agreed to sign it off.”

“Little did he know that I had rented an empty parking lot, dragged the cursed object to the center, planted a phone on a tripod to record the moment for posterity, then called Mezil. We picked up our sledgehammers and whaled on that piece of junk until it was complete smithereens! Wham! Pow! Bam! Ah, that was THE single most satisfying thing we’d done in years! We wore protective gear, of course. Don’t wanna get injured.”

You giggled at the mere thought of the Tsunderjudge going ham on the car. It’s so unlike him! You always imagined him to be more refined.

“Well, what if I told you that by the time we were done, he was grinning away? Just like you right now!”

Seriously?! You’ve never seen him laugh before. The one time he actually broke his usual cool front, he hid his face behind a sheet of paper! Cheater, cheater!

…………………

Heh. Just months ago you thought of the Tsunderjudge as enemy number one. You imagined his childhood to be far removed from yours. Turns out that you two were more alike than you’d like to admit.

With embarrassed hesitation, you told Edmund that Mezil didn’t make you a Crimson Keeper because he wanted to. It’s because he didn’t have a choice.

“Really there?” asked Edmund. “It takes a lot to corner him like that. What’s the story?”

It all began with a promise you made with this skeleton right here, your former mentor. In return for his help, you were to seal your power away. Forever.

“Why seal it?”

…Because you did things that should’ve warranted an execution by none other than Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme. It’s a miracle that you’re alive today, let alone elected.

With a wry look on his face, Edmund said: “That tends to hold true for a lot of Unclaimed Reds. The fact that you’re still here as Mezil’s sole Crimson Keeper says a lot about his trust in you to move beyond your past and to avoid repeating it.”

Maybe his trust was misplaced. A gamble, you dare say. Look what happened to Sans. Your impossible promise pushed him beyond the boundary. In all levels: physical, mental, and spiritual.

“Sounds like you two had a falling out. Is that why you called him ‘former’ mentor?”

You nodded. Let’s just say he made some ABSOLUTELY criminal choices in order to keep your promise. Put everything and everyone in danger!

Tsunderjudge almost died!

You almost died!

Everyone almost died!

And that’s just the tip of the damn iceberg!

He made a literal Deus Ex Machina. A different stupid doodoobutt then tried to hijack the whole thing! It’s either the machine or everyone else, so you chose to use your powers to obliterate the machine. That cost him his arm.

“Got it. No wonder he got beyond screwed. I suppose all that is also why your pocket watch heirloom is now only a pocket shell?”

…Yes.

Ugh. You can’t believe he noticed.

“Hey, I’ve seen the original intact piece before. Anyhow, I can see why that’s gotta sting.”

Damn right! After that whole nonsense, you were so pissed at Sans. You were so determined to prove him wrong, you ditched him. You much preferred his hopeful brother’s plan: The Feast of Fantasy.

The Feast was a success. But, you’ve also realised that you were a little too naive. In the end, every bad scenario Sans had predicted still threatened to come true.

…You asked Edmund if it was a mistake to ask for his help? Sans was not the only casualty. Papyrus suffered a ton of injuries too. He came so close to being permanently crippled. He’s just fortunate that Lady Lucy’s treatment worked.

But what about Undyne? Alphys? Mom? Dad? Cenna? The townspeople? When a war breaks out, will they too lose a limb? Or maybe their lives?

You sat down in your seat, crestfallen.

Then Edmund’s hand rested on your shoulder.

“Frisk,” he said. “Friends will often get themselves dragged into such situations regardless. Or leap in of their own accord. That’s why the four of us drove all the way here to help Mezil and the Grandmaster. No matter the age or experience, everyone needs help sooner or later.”

“This Sans Serif, however. He sounds like a desperate man taking desperate measures for everyone’s sake, all by himself. Not an enviable position to be in. In fact, the more you tell me about him, the less I want to be in his shoes. So many I-wouldn’t-have-done-this-if-not-for-that-isms. Just hindsight making fools of us all.”

Ain’t that the truth? When he wakes up, you plan to get on your knees and do the dogeza. Head, on the floor. Apologize to him for making light of his warnings and believing that he broke your promise.

“Hmm. Just do your part. We don’t know how he’ll be when he wakes up.”

True. At this rate, you don’t know if you’ll ever get ‘Sans’ back.

The two of you sat by the bedside for a minute. Your mood had considerably improved by now. But Edmund? He stared at Sans with a serious expression, as though he had something on his mind.

The veteran crossed his arm, thinking. “Hmmm… this isn’t really my gig, but I happen to have many of these thanks to my wife Athene. I suppose I can spare one for Mister Sans here. For when he wakes up.”

He reached for his collar and pulled out a cross on a necklace. After taking it off, he clasped it in Sans’ remaining hand.

“The Redeemer redeems, as Lord Berendin would say. Who knows, maybe this trinket will appear as a beacon in his nightmare to guide him home? My wife swears they are the reason I’m still alive today.”

Ah! You were reminded that Kid made a get-well card for Sans. You opened your bag to retrieve his impromptu piece of art. Made it lean carefully against the side of a flower vase.

“That’s a really cute card.” Edmund commented.

Yeah. It is.

Looking around, you found many more similar bouquets and vases, all filled with variations of peonies, daisies, hydrangeas, and pansies: popular picks for the sick and injured. Cards were tucked in between the flora, conveying everyone’s well wishes.

“All these gifts… that should show him that there’s still plenty of people who are ready to welcome him with open arms, no matter what.”

You squinted at Edmund skeptically. He does know that the majority of the townsfolk aren’t aware of Sans’ true colours, right?

“Well, what about you? If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have held this very conversation with me. I’m sure you would want him to come back despite everything he did. That too is ‘mercy’.”

…Yeah, he’s right. The thought made you smile, somehow.

You leaned closer to Sans to speak, reminding him that no matter how far or deep he’s stuck in a nightmare beyond spacetime, he still has a home in this dimension.

Ebott Town will always be here.

Papyrus will always be here.

You will always be here.

And everyone’s wishes will shine bright, like a beacon to help him return.