"Good morning," said Eleanor as she leaned in a rocking chair. No one replied.

"I know you're awake." As Eleanor gradually raised her finger, a golden orb emitting dazzling light and whirring sounds formed on her finger tip.

Marge groaned and turned her head to faced Eleanor. Seeing the threatening golden orb, she groaned again and turned back.

"Just kill me...." A weary voice said from under the blanket.

"Is that the first words you say to your saviour?" Eleanor waved her finger and the orb dispersed.

"I saved ya' as well, you're just making this even," Marge sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Where'm I?"

"My office." Eleanor said as she crossed her arms. She looked on as Marge examined herself.

"Don't worry about the wound, I already cured it," Eleanor eventually said. "So, can I start asking some questions?"

"... Ya' sound awfully cross for saving me," Marge replied.

"The only reason I didn't let you die is because I need some information," Eleanor said flatly. "On that note, I also need to know what the heck did you do to get us both nearly killed."

"I was handling it just fine before ya' barged in and wrecked ma' place," Marge said. Eleanor raised an eyebrow and her finger twitched.

"Okay, I thank you for the help." Marge gulped as she got the message. "What do you want to know?"

Eleanor stood up.

"What. Did. You. Do. To. Rosie?" Eleanor asked, her expression hardening in cold fury.

"... I didn't do anything? What happened to her?" Marge was startled.

Eleanor marched towards Marge. As Eleanor was centimetres away from Marge's bed, a silver axe suddenly flew towards Marge. It stopped right in front of her face.

"I am sure you won't mind if I do some fact-checking?" Eleanor grabbed the axe which was still hovering in the air. The edge of the axe-head erupted into blue flames and started glowing white.

Marge scooted backwards, but stopped as she felt an invisible wall behind her. Sighing, she looked at the flames, and then at Eleanor.

"You won't kill me, right?" Marge asked in resignation.

"Depends if you are telling the truth," Eleanor smiled grimly, "or not."

"Fine, fine. Ya' know that I won't lie anyway." Marge said.

"What did you do to Rosie?" "I didn't do anything to her? I just sold her some items."

"What about the box?" "That box was something new I invented not long ago. It's made to keep whatever is inside it fresh."

"Why did you give her the box?"

"For promotion? I've been givin' it to everyone though."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Did anyone complain about the boxes you gave?" "No?"

"Last question," Eleanor gripped the axe tightly. "Does that box uses any forbidden principles or dangerous magic?" There was a few moments of silence.

"... A little?" Marge replied sheepishly. The axe's flames suddenly turned from blue to black.

"Okay, that's it." Eleanor raised the axe high with both her arms.

"Wait! Wait!" Marge put her hands out. "I can explain!"

Eleanor paused. She dropped the flaming axe onto the bed, which magically didn't catch fire.

"Alright, explain." Eleanor crossed her arms.

"So... umm... what happened to Rosie again?" Marge winced as Eleanor growled.

* * *

As Eleanor talked, Marge's expression morphed from being surprised and worried to become a combination of both concern and pity. She caught the box that Eleanor angrily threw to her, but held back from commenting as she noticed Eleanor's distraught face.

Despite still being objectively pretty, Marge noticed hints of Eleanor's anxiety. Eleanor's smooth hair was slightly dishevelled, there were faint bags under her eyes, and she was pacing around the room frantically as she talked. She was very different from the cheery, gentle, and composed lady that Marge was familiar with.

"So, what do you have to say?" Eleanor looked pointedly towards Marge.

"I'm sorry. Really, really sorry," Marge exhaled. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I treated Rosie as ma' own daughter and will never harm her. Ya' know what happened to me."

Eleanor's face softened slightly. Marge continued examining the box as she sat on the bed.

"May I use your desk?" Marge asked. "It's better if I examine this on a flat surface."

Eleanor said nothing and fired a small ray of light towards her desk. Just like a startled flock of birds, the books on the desk's surface flew off frightfully back to their shelves.

Taking that as a sign of consent, Marge put the box on the desk and opened the box. Her fingernails grew bright green as she etched something on the bottom of the cover and along the rim of the box.

The inner layer of both the cover and the box detached. Marge carefully combined both inner layers and formed a glowing, transparent cuboid. While the inside of the cuboid was filled with a misty white substance with some black spots floating about, the outside was filled with tiny, densely packed glyphs and symbols. Marge frowned after looking closely at it.

"What's wrong?" Eleanor asked as she noticed Marge's expression.

"Something has infected the spell." Marge held up the cuboid. "I've done lots of testin', but this never happened before."

"I need you to be more detailed and explain to me what you're talking about," Eleanor tapped her feet impatiently.

"This container is a spell that carves out an isolated space in an uninhabited dimension." Marge unperturbedly continued reading the glyphs. "I designed each container to connect to a space that has time-stasis functions so that my customers can store things inside. They can only put in and take out my products."

"However, there was never any black spots in all the containers I designed," Marge continued. "Something must have triggered a transformation within the container, but I need more time to find out what."

"What dimension does it connect to?" Eleanor asked. Marge remained silent.

"Can... can you create a barrier?" Marge hesitantly requested. Eleanor impatiently stomped her feet and formed a golden hemispherical barrier around them.

"It's the Foggy Plains."

The both of them said nothing. After a moment, Eleanor trudged towards her leather office chair and slumped down.

"You're crazy." Eleanor laughed soundlessly. "Who uses one of the most volatile and most dangerous dimensions ever known to store bread?"

"I mean... it seemed like an okay idea at that time..." Marge's voice grew softer. "I ran many tests and everything went well."

Eleanor sighed and leaned back against the chair. Marge was surprised when she saw Eleanor strengthened the barrier.

"Please sit." A chair floated and landed behind Marge.

Eleanor said nothing as she had her head in her hands while Marge sat down and looked anxiously at her.

"I know that we both love Rosie, and it's partially my fault," Eleanor broke the silence. "That's why I am going to tell you something that not even Rosie knows." Marge raised her eye brows.

"Rosie is not my physical child." Eleanor admitted. Marge seemed surprised, but not too surprised as she regained her composure.

"I feel that there's more to it." Marge said.

"... Rosie is also not one of 'us'." Eleanor sighed. Marge's eyes started widening.

"I found her, alone, in the Foggy Plains." Eleanor's voice broke, her head still in her hands.

Marge froze. She wanted to shake Eleanor and asked her back what the heck was she thinking back then, but couldn't do so as she felt Eleanor's grief.

"Please, please help me find my daughter." Eleanor pleaded as raised her head with tears in her eyes.