Sans still isn’t back.

Everyone finished their dinner by now. Mom saved two pieces of chicken for her joker friend. Reheating won’t be an issue: she’d just use her fire magic.

You hung out on the sofa, letting the motorcycle helmet rest on your lap. It’s pretty well-worn and it smells of earth.

Cenna glared at it with a hawk’s gaze.

You don’t sense hostility. More like… aggravation.

Dad asked gently: “Do you know the eavesdropper?”

She squeezed her eye shut and drew a deep breath.

“I… I guess my body language is showing.” She squeezed her hands tighter. “It’s just. Ugh. That idiot.”

Could she tell you his name, at least?

“I can’t. I don’t know what level of clearance he obtained, if he had any in the first place. He doesn’t mean any harm though. That’s what I can vouch for. But damn, I question his choice of prey.”

Prey?

“Yeah,” said Cenna. “He lives and breathes the hunter’s way. When I saw you pick up that helmet, I realised he provoked Sans. Like. Why?”

Knowing what Sans is capable of, you agree that’s a terrible idea.

You sat around for a little while more. Then, you plopped the helmet on Cenna’s lap.

“Where are ya going?” she asked.

To the bathroom. All that soda needs to go somewhere.

No one questioned it. After all, you DID need to do your business. The detour will begin after you wash up.

You sort through your mind’s files. If Mezil’s big battle was of any indication, the trick relies on personal experience. As long you made a mental bookmark at that location in any timeline…

…You could teleport there.

This destination was a little on the far side, but you’re gonna give it a shot.

You closed your eyes to concentrate. Imagined the location.

You saw a red star.

You jumped to it.

The sudden change of temperature confirmed your success: you are now in front of Sans’ backyard secret lab.

As you had expected, he’s there.

“No breach of security,” he muttered, “The disruptor is still intact too. I guess that Gaelic guy didn’t visit here at all…”

Sans breathed a huge sigh of relief, planting the front of his cranium on the door.

You called out for his name. Not too loud that it’ll startle him.

He jolted right back up and turned around. Was that nervous, guilty sweating?

Squint mode, on. Where did he go? What took him so long? And what’s with the whole security talk? Is this why he changed locks? Explain, please.

“Kid,” he said, “I’m more worried that you’re outside. How did you manage to slip past the gang?”

Living Victory Brand Teleport.

You were here in the evening. Made a mini-SAVE just in case.

He facepalmed. “Figures. We can’t talk here though. It’s too open.”

You let Sans know that you need help getting back home. Two-way connections weren’t your thing just yet.

“So, where was your last valid location?”

The toilet at Dad’s place.

“Yup. I know where it is. Play it cool, alright? Let me do the talking.”

One trip across spacetime later, you’re back in the bathroom. Sans went ahead of you to explain his absence. You’re supposed to be ‘waiting’ back at home too, after all.

When you rejoined the group, there’s a… tensed atmosphere in the air.

Cenna and Sans had a subtle interrogation match. Well, not really. But it sure looked like it. They’re giving intense stares at each other, arguing in subtext.

“What did you do with the trespasser?” your sister asked.

Sans replied, “Hmm, I didn’t think you’re the type to care about folks who break the law.”

“I sure give a damn about how it’s handled. How the hell am I gonna explain to my boss if shit hits the fan?”

“Eh, don’t worry.” The skeleton shrugged. “He’s alive. That’s what’s important, right?”

Cenna can’t openly defend a questionable breach of privacy. In the end, she relented: “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Now that we got the small stuff out of the way, it’s time for another roundtable discussion. I’m gonna resume my meal while Frisk explains some critical stuff.”

That’s your cue. You called everyone to the table. They sat down in the same arrangement as before.

You took the time to explain about the Trial of the Crimson Hall. Any gaps were filled in by none other than Cenna.

As you had expected, you received various responses of fear and deep concern.

Doctor Gaster was the first to chide. “Egads, sweet mercy! You should have told us this sooner! Did you keep quiet because a certain secretive friend dispensed questionable advice?”

That’s definitely a direct jab at Sans.

The doctor was right, but that’s not the point. You didn’t want to make others worry and you needed time to think.

Mom exclaimed: “Frisk! I understand your good intentions, but this is not something a child should decide on their own!”

Not even Dad would take your side now: “Toriel is right. I know you want to grow up. Or rather, you already consider yourself a grown-up. But, even adults need consultation over this big an issue. More so when it involves your life.”

Undyne crossed her arms. “Sorry squirt, I really gotta agree with the King and Queen this time.”

Alphys continued staring at you in utter speechlessness.

You’re starting to feel the consequences of your poor decisions.

“Hey, hey, I’m part of the blame too,” said Cenna. She’s trying her best to defend you. “Instead of discussing with you guys, I left the final decision in their hands. You can say I failed to do my big sis duties.”

Sans sighed at the commotion. “Welp, this is exactly why I told Frisk to lay low. Gotta give me time to do my research so we don’t get all rattled.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Here comes the fed-up eye rolling from the goopy doctor. “Ugh, Sans. I hope you’ve unearthed substantial relevant information to justify this unwise secrecy. Tell us what you know.”

Sans explained: “The Trial of the Crimson Hall isn’t run by a single Supreme Judge. Think of it as a fancy courtroom. You can’t have a session without witnesses. That’s illegal.”

“So, the whole event is monitored by at least three members of the Jury. Maximum, twelve. The Magi would never disclose this upfront because all members of the Jury are monsters. Isn’t that right, Miss Vanquisher?”

Cenna nodded. “Right on point, sir.”

“If Mezil Thyme tries to do anything out of line, the Jurors have the right to stop the Trial.”

You gasped. Here you thought it’s going to be a secret showdown of time travellers. It’s a relief to hear that they have a fair system.

Mom scrunched her brows, ever suspicious. “Then why do they insist that the price of failure is death?”

“Welp, Tori. It all starts in the head. Deliberate misinformation discourages those who’re not serious about their powers. If they value their life enough, they’ll surrender. Saves everyone time.”

“What happens if they surrender?” she asked.

Good question. You had no idea how that works.

Sans explained, “You literally submit to the big judge. Swear that you’ll never be more determined than him. With paper contract and all.”

“It’s… that simple?”

“Yup.”

You’re about as skeptical as Mom. If it’s really that straightforward, then why was Cenna so worried about you? More so with the whole ‘Mark’ deal…

“You know,” he continued, “If any Reds fail his test, he can forcefully de-power them forever. That’s the proverbial ‘death’ of a person’s time-travelling ability. It’s all semantics. It doesn’t have to be a literal loss of life.”

Before you realised it, you’re gripping the Trap Harvester. Hearing this talk made you nervous.

Dad lifted his hand to get some attention. “I think we should let Frisk enter the exam. With company, of course. Think of it as a much needed dental appointment: it’s scary, but they need to go through with it.”

“I-I agree with Asgore,” said Alphys. “It doesn’t sound like Frisk can flee from this. T-they need to face it head on!”

That’s the first comment from your shy lizard friend since this session started.

You imagined Undyne to agree with her with utmost enthusiasm, but…

…She’s pondering instead. Tossed unsure glances at Sans.

“When should the squirt take this dang Trial?” she asked.

“As soon as possible,” Sans answered.

“When is this ‘soon’?” Her singular eye narrowed.

“The earliest date Judge Thyme can fix. I think he’s more anxious than all of us to get it done. Setting the date and time is just one phone call away.”

Undyne then snapped her attention square on you.

“FRISK! Do it now! And set the phone on speakers so we can hear whatever he says!”

O-okay.

Wow, she’s way too fired up on the wrong angle. What's got into her?

You phoned the big guy posthaste. Placing your finger on your lips, you requested pin-drop silence from everyone.

Don’t say anything, no matter what.

It rang three times. Then, Mezil answered the call.

“Good evening, Frisk.”

Good evening, Judge. You told him that you’re ready for the Trial.

When would it take place?

“This coming Sunday, 4 PM. It’s best that we settle this issue posthaste.”

You asked him about the case of the Six Children. Are they going to exhume the corpses?

“Yes. The forensic anthropologists will descend to the Underground tomorrow. After that, they’ll check the remains for cause of death. It will take a while before we get a full report.”

“There will be no press conference until then.”

Hopefully, you could address this issue as an official Ambassador before the internet sets it on fire.

“Could you be honest with something, Frisk?”

Yes?

“Do you know the specific causes of their demise?”

It’s THE burning hot question. Everyone looked at each other, which eventually trailed to Dad.

He lowered his head and shook them. Then, his attention shifted to Doctor Gaster.

Distant silence was his sole response. That man can be a block of ice if he wants to. He knew the truth, yet he refused to elaborate on anything.

Dad is innocent after all.

You told Mezil that you don’t know how the children died. By the time you got there, they’re already harvested. Nobody recognized you as a human other than certain avid media consumers, and those who had met Chara in the past.

“Interesting. You’re saying that no monster of the current generation had ever met a live human face-to-face. Until you appeared?”

As far as you can tell, yes.

You then gave various examples of their innocence. Example: rolling yourself in the snow and dirt made the nearsighted Dog Clan couple think that you’re a puppy.

Then there’s Undyne’s outrageous belief that humans are capable of mind control. Because, anime. Stuff found in the trash dump. Same for Mettaton and Alphys.

You noticed the two main culprits of human misinformation trying to hide their faces from the rest of the world. Sorry Alphys. Sorry Undyne. Please bear with this embarrassment for a little while longer.

“Hm? What about Sans Serif? I expected Doctor Gaster to pass down that aspect of his knowledge. I’m sure his family had multiple graphical references on humanity.”

Yes, but it's still not the same as meeting one in person. If someone placed a wolf-like dog breed next to a real canis lupus, you might not be able to tell the difference either.

“Perhaps the case can favour Ebott after all. We’ll manage that after the Trial, provided you pass. Goodnight to you.”

When the call ended, a huge weight lifted off your ribs. Air. Sweet, sweet air. You could finally breathe again.

“So,” Undyne coughed. “This whole Trial thing. Yeah. It’s legit. You know what? I believe the punk will beat that stupid exam down into pulp! Frisk, get in there and kick the old man’s butt for me!”

You’re going to take that expression on a purely proverbial sense. If possible, you want no fights at all.

…Then you realised the unrealistic idealism of your wish.

Cenna pinched the bridge of her nose. Her long day isn’t gonna end anytime soon. “That’s my cue to go back to Mez and sign the legal papers. Ugh, not looking forward to that two-hour ride.”

Mom objected with a flat, stern, ‘No.’

“Why?” asked Cenna. “I thought we agreed that they can’t avoid this?”

“Frisk is still too young. Can’t we postpone the trial a few more years? I’d think they should be at least seventeen before we could consider any of these!”

Fear gripped her heart. More than during your Underground adventures…

Ever smooth with his words, Sans stepped in for you. “Tori, Tori. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“How could you be so sure?!” She snapped back. Wow. You don’t think she had ever raised her voice against him before.

“‘Cause they're not alone,” he replied. “You got me. Asgore. Undyne. And many more. I’m sure Cenna doesn’t want the kid to croak either. Maybe we can arrange for a second person to accompany Frisk.”

“Oh?” Now that caught Mom’s attention.

“Yeah. Two is better than one. If anything turns ugly, we’ll defend Frisk until the Jury calls it quits.”

That thought alone sparked a cheerful shine on Mom’s face. “Will you be joining me then?”

“Nah. I think Asgore is a better fit.”

Did.

Sans.

Really just say that?

The shock was real. Dad pointed to himself with a slightly loose jaw, unable to believe it’s happening. You expected him to be at the bottom of the candidate list after the huge breakdown between king and subject.

“What’s so surprising?” Sans said. “You’re one of the oldest living couples on the planet. With that much time spent together, I’m sure they’ll be in perfect sync.”

Both goatparents burst into nervous flustering.

If fur could blush, Mom and Dad would both be bright pink now. They exuded the embarrassed glows of two lovers trying to come to terms with each other.

“T-this is too soon!”

“Yes, it is too soon.”

“We need to take it slow.”

“Agreed.”

Both then said in unison: “One day at a time.”

Sans winked. “Nothing beats a strong foundation.”

The short blue skeleton then finished the last of his chicken and plunked the bone on his plate. “Welp, I’m done. Thanks for the meal.”

You know that body language. He’s about to bail ASAP. Instead of letting him go scot-free, you grabbed his sleeve and insisted that he should wash his dang hands.

“Huh? I don’t need to--”

Sans immediately shut up when he sensed the sheer aura of disapproval from the skelemom. It’s amazing to think that Helvetica didn’t need a face -- or the rest of her body -- to make a point.

The less extroverted skeledad won’t back down this time either. Roman pointed at the plate and trailed it towards the chicken box. It’s where bony trash belongs.

Wow. You had never seen Sans so clean with his post-dinner routine before. That’s parent-power right there.

“Off to the sink, I go.” he announced to his parents. Sans then headed to the kitchen with the empty plate in hand.

You took this opportunity to follow him for a private chat.

As Sans deposited the dirty dishes, you whispered a string of serious questions.

Those cryptic security mumbles bothered you still.

What’s the big deal? You asked. It’s a matter of trust.

“Frisk,” he said, “Check your keyring.”

Huh. What is he talking about? You checked.

The silver key had vanished. When you looked back up, you found it in Sans’ clean and dried hands.

“That cheeky fellow who spied on us… he’s a Seer. If I can snatch the key from you in a blink, others can do the same. I can’t let that happen.”

Okay. That's just genuine paranoia fuel. Then again, we have nothing to hide. So what’s with all the extra precautions?

“…He’s not an ordinary run-on-the-bone dude, Frisk. That man is definitely a Juror. He got the right colours for the job. The last thing we need now is an info leak that puts us at a disadvantage.”

The secret monster observers?

Why so certain?

“It’s mandatory to have a certified Seer as one of the panel members. Purples have the strongest dejavu recollection. Since you’re the epicenter of a huge time-travelling case, the possible candidates will lean towards that colour.”

That makes a ton of sense!

To think that there are more Sans-like Seers out there…

That thought filled you with guilt. How many others suffered in this dragging time loop? They have families too.

Your guilt transformed into determination: you swear that you’ll put an end to this conundrum.

“Heh. That’s good, kid.” Said Sans. He then pocketed the silver key. “I’ll hang unto this in the meantime.”

“And one more thing, Frisk. Your butterfly mark? It isn't what you think it is. ”

Pardon?

“Let’s just say that Mister Judge won’t let you go so easily.”

Explanation, please?

“You’ll understand when you get there. Welp, I gotta get back to work. Running late as is. Let Mom and Dad know I said goodnight.”

Wait, Sans. What work--

Too late. He vanished right before your eyes. For a guy of ‘Patience’, he’s sure in a deep hurry.