My Infinite System.

The Drifting Leaf was quiet that night.

Rain pattered gently against the translucent canopy that arched over the inn’s upper floors, the droplets glowing faintly blue as they rolled down the living wood walls. The air smelled faintly of spice, smoke, and rain-soaked moss—a scent both alien and familiar.

Lucian sat at one of the low tables near the window, hands clasped loosely, staring at the shifting city lights outside. Reia sat across from him, working through lines of data on her wrist module. Silas occupied a stool by the wall, polishing his gauntlets, while Vyn leaned against a support pillar, half in shadow, half in thought.

Kaelis perched lazily on the back of a chair, wings tucked in tight. [Remind me why we’re staying in a plant again?] he muttered, tail flicking.

Reia didn’t look up. ”Because it’s discreet. The organic architecture makes it harder for scanners to read life signatures.”

[Uh-huh. And the smell? That part of the strategy too?]

Lucian didn’t answer. His focus was elsewhere—on the faint hum he still felt from that illusion back at the plaza. The pattern had been perfect, the trap complete. Every step they’d taken since had been reaction, not control, and he hated that more than failure itself.

The door hissed open.

Evelyn stepped inside, her hood damp from the rain. She looked tired, but her eyes were alert. Everyone turned as she approached the table.

”She’s settled?” Lucian asked without looking away from the window.

Evelyn nodded, pulling the hood back. ”For now. She’s asleep.”

Reia glanced up. ”The girl—Lira. What did you find out?”

Evelyn took a seat, exhaling slowly. ”More than I expected.” She looked around the table, making sure she had their attention. ”Her parents were researchers for Omni-Stellar. Mining contracts, deep fissure world called Karys-7. The company sent them into unstable ground knowing the risk. They died when it collapsed. The official report calls it an accident. The cube she’s carrying has proof it wasn’t.”

Reia’s eyes narrowed. ”Corporate negligence?”

”Corporate cover-up,” Evelyn corrected. ”The cube holds all the sensor data, personal logs, and authorization files. It’s bad. She says the Guild ignored her attempts to report it. The company owns most of the councilors on this planet.”

Silas set his gauntlets down with a soft clink. ”So what—you’re saying a kid just blew open a corporate conspiracy?”

”Pretty much.” Evelyn folded her hands. ”She risked her life to get that data out. Now the guards want her dead. If we hand her over, she’s gone within the hour. No questions asked.”

Vyn tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. ”What do you suggest?”

Evelyn hesitated before speaking. ”We help her. Protect her. Maybe even deliver that data to someone who can make it public.”

Lucian’s gaze finally shifted toward her, the faintest crease forming between his brows. ”Why?”

The single word carried no malice, but it cut clean through the air.

Evelyn frowned. ”Because she needs help. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Lucian leaned back in his chair, eyes steady on hers. ”That’s not why we’re here. We’re not crusaders. Our mission hasn’t changed.”

Reia nodded slightly, though her tone was softer. ”Lucian’s right. Our focus has to stay on Lucy. Every detour burns time and resources we don’t have.”

Evelyn looked between them, disbelief flickering in her eyes. ”You’re saying we just ignore her? After everything she’s been through?”

”She’s not our responsibility,” Lucian said calmly.

”Then whose is she?” Evelyn shot back. ”You saw what those guards were ready to do. She’s a child, Lucian. They’ll erase her like she never existed.”

Silas let out a slow breath, his gaze flicking between them. ”She’s got a point.”

Lucian turned to him. ”You think saving one girl will change what this place is?”

Silas shrugged. ”No. But it’ll change what we are, maybe.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened, a faint spark of irritation flickering under the calm. ”We’re not saviors. We don’t have time to play heroes every time someone cries for help.”

Vyn’s voice broke through quietly from the shadows. ”You’re right,” she said. ”We’re not heroes.” She pushed off the wall and stepped closer, her silver eyes catching the dim light. ”But we can help. That’s reason enough.”

Lucian met her gaze, unflinching. ”And if it leads to more trouble? More enemies?”

”Then we face them,” Vyn said simply. ”Because we can.”

The words hung between them, quiet but solid.

Kaelis snorted from his perch. [And this is how it starts. You help one crying kid, then another, then another. Next thing you know, you’re the bleeding Guardians of the Universe. Traveling around handing out moral lessons and hugs.]

Silas smirked faintly. ”Sounds exhausting.”

[Exactly!] Kaelis said, tail lashing. [You lot are already complicated enough.]

Evelyn leaned forward, her tone measured but firm. ”I know this isn’t part of our mission, Lucian. But maybe it’s connected in ways we can’t see yet. You said it yourself—our enemy moves through the cracks. Maybe this is one of them.”

Reia was silent, studying Evelyn closely. There was conviction in her voice that wasn’t just emotion—it was logic mixed with instinct.

Lucian drummed his fingers against the table, eyes distant. ”Even if that’s true, there’s no guarantee helping her will lead us anywhere.”

”No guarantee doing nothing will, either,” Evelyn said.

That earned a small pause. The rain outside grew heavier, drumming softly against the walls.

Kaelis huffed, muttering under his breath. [You people are impossible.]

Lucian stood, walking to the window. The glow of Varros reflected faintly in his eyes as he spoke. ”You want to help her. Fine. Tell me how.”

Evelyn blinked. ”I... thought you said—”

”I’m asking for a plan,” Lucian interrupted. ”Not a speech.”

Reia leaned forward, fingers tapping lightly on the table. ”If the data is as critical as you say, we can’t transmit it here. Omni-Stellar will intercept the signal before it reaches the Guild. We’d have to find a neutral relay point outside their jurisdiction.”

”Which means leaving the system,” Silas said.

”Exactly,” Reia replied. ”A few jumps at least.”

Lucian’s expression remained unreadable. ”And you’re all fine risking exposure and delay for this?”

Evelyn met his gaze steadily. ”Yes.”

Silas nodded once. ”I’m in.”

Vyn gave a faint smile. ”I already said my part.”

Reia hesitated, then exhaled. ”If we’re doing this, I’ll handle the encryption. It’ll need to be layered deep.”

Lucian stared at them all for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh. ”You’re all insane.”

Kaelis flicked his tail. [You only just noticed?]

Lucian turned from the window, his tone settling into something resigned, but not cold. ”We’ll see where this goes. But once it’s done, we get back on track. No distractions.”

Evelyn smiled faintly. ”That’s all I needed to hear.”

For a moment, there was an ease among them that hadn’t existed since Lucy’s disappearance—a small, unspoken thread connecting them again. The mission had changed shape, but maybe not direction.

Lucian leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded. ”Where’s the girl now?”

Evelyn looked up, realizing she hadn’t mentioned it. ”She’s on the ship,” she said. ”With Marc.”

Lucian’s brow arched slightly. ”You left her alone with Marc?”

Evelyn’s confidence faltered for the first time that night. ”Surprisingly he’s ... good with kids.”

”And you thought,” he said, each word measured and cold, ”that was a good idea?”