The city slowly changed around them.

The towering office buildings gave way to smaller businesses.

The businesses became neighborhoods.

Traffic thinned.

The streets became quieter.

Undyne finally let out a long breath.

"I think we lost them."

Papyrus nodded from the back seat.

"EXCELLENT."

"It would've been more excellent if we never had to lose them in the first place."

Papyrus winced.

"...THAT IS ALSO TRUE."

Undyne glanced at Frisk through the rearview mirror.

"You alright?"

Frisk looked down at herself.

Her hands were still shaking.

She hadn't noticed until now.

"...Yeah."

Undyne snorted.

"No, you're not."

Frisk couldn't argue with that.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off.

Now everything hurt.

Her ears still rang from the gunfire.

Her heart refused to slow down.

She could still picture bullets ripping through the clothing racks only a few feet away.

Undyne drummed her fingers against the steering wheel.

"...This complicates things."

Papyrus tilted his head.

"HOW?"

Undyne gave him an incredulous look.

"You were attacked in Black Rose territory."

"I WAS."

"They're going to spin this however they want."

"PROBABLY."

"They'll tell everyone we violated the agreement."

Papyrus frowned.

"BUT THEY SHOT FIRST."

Undyne barked out a humorless laugh.

"You think they care?"

Silence settled inside the SUV.

Frisk stared out the window.

Everything Evelyn had told her echoed in the back of her mind.

The Family is unstable.

The Family wants war.

The Family cannot be trusted.

Yet...

It had been Black Rose soldiers who opened fire.

Not the monsters.

Not Papyrus.

Undyne reached toward the dashboard again.

"This isn't my call."

She pressed another contact.

The phone rang twice.

A warm, gentle voice answered.

"Hello?"

Undyne immediately relaxed.

"Hey, Toriel."

"Undyne?" the woman replied. "You sound troubled."

"We've got a problem."

A brief pause.

"I see."

"We had an incident."

"Is everyone alright?"

"We're alive."

Another pause.

"I am relieved to hear that."

Undyne glanced toward Frisk.

"I need a favor."

"Of course."

"I've got a kid that needs somewhere to disappear for a few days."

Frisk looked up.

Kid?

Undyne continued.

"Sans wants everybody laying low until he figures out what kind of mess we're in."

"I understand."

Another brief silence.

"Will the child be safe with me?"

"Safer than anywhere else."

The woman's answer came without hesitation.

"My home is always open."

Undyne smiled.

"Thanks, Tori."

"You needn't thank me."

Her voice remained as calm as ever.

"If someone requires shelter, then they shall have it."

Undyne nodded.

"We're about twenty minutes out."

"I shall prepare a room."

The call ended.

Frisk frowned.

"...Who was that?"

Undyne looked at her in the mirror.

"Toriel."

"...Who's Toriel?"

Papyrus answered before Undyne could.

"SHE IS THE KINDEST PERSON YOU WILL EVER MEET."

Undyne nodded.

"Pretty much."

Frisk waited for more.

None came.

No title.

No rank.

No explanation.

Just...

Toriel.

That immediately struck her as strange.

During the briefing, Evelyn had spent nearly an hour describing every important figure inside the Family.

Asgore.

Sans.

Undyne.

Papyrus.

Mettaton.

Alphys.

Muffet.

Even Grillby had received a short explanation.

But not once...

Not once...

Had she heard the name Toriel.

She quietly searched her memory anyway.

Nothing.

No rumors.

No street gossip.

No whispers from thieves.

Whoever this woman was...

The Black Roses had never considered her important enough to mention.

Or...

They hadn't known about her.

That possibility made Frisk's stomach tighten.

If Evelyn had missed someone...

What else had she missed?

The SUV continued winding through increasingly peaceful streets.

Small houses lined both sides of the road.

Children rode bicycles.

Neighbors watered flowers.

An elderly monster swept leaves from a front porch.

It felt impossibly ordinary.

Nothing like the underworld Frisk had imagined.

Eventually, Undyne slowed beside a modest little house tucked beneath a pair of large oak trees.

It was small.

White siding.

Blue shutters.

Flower boxes beneath every window.

A stone walkway curved through a carefully tended garden bursting with colorful blossoms.

Wind chimes danced softly beneath the front porch.

There wasn't a single thing about the house that suggested it had any connection whatsoever to organized crime.

Frisk blinked.

"...This is it?"

Undyne put the SUV in park.

"Yep."

Papyrus smiled.

"I TOLD YOU SHE WAS NICE."

The front door opened before anyone reached it.

A tall goat monster stepped outside.

She wore a long purple dress beneath a cream colored cardigan.

Reading glasses rested low on her muzzle.

Gentle amber eyes immediately found the SUV.

Then Frisk.

Her expression softened almost instantly.

"Oh..."

She descended the porch steps with unhurried grace.

"You must be Frisk."

Frisk slowly climbed out of the vehicle.

"...Nice to meet you."

Toriel smiled warmly and stopped a respectful distance away.

"You look exhausted."

Frisk didn't answer.

She simply stared.

This...

This couldn't be right.

She had expected another mobster.

Another hardened criminal.

Someone dangerous.

Instead...

She looked like someone's mother.

Toriel folded her hands together.

"You need not worry."

Her voice was impossibly gentle.

"You are welcome here."

Frisk instinctively looked toward Undyne.

Undyne crossed her arms.

"Here's the deal."

Her tone became serious.

"You stay here."

She pointed toward the little house.

"You do not leave unless one of us says it's okay."

Frisk nodded slowly.

Undyne continued.

"Sans is working on fixing today's disaster."

"If anybody can stop this from turning into something bigger..."

She shrugged.

"It's him."

Papyrus climbed out of the SUV.

"I SHALL RETURN SOON."

He smiled brightly at Frisk.

"PLEASE DO NOT WORRY."

Frisk forced herself to nod.

"I'll... try."

Papyrus beamed.

"I BELIEVE IN YOU."

Undyne opened her door again.

"We'll be in touch."

Frisk watched as the SUV pulled away.

The engine faded into the distance.

Soon, only the soft rustling of leaves remained.

She found herself standing alone on the front walkway.

Beside a woman she had never heard of.

A woman who smiled at her with such effortless kindness that it almost made Frisk uncomfortable.

Toriel gently opened the front door.

"Come inside, my child."

Frisk hesitated.

Only for a moment.

Then she stepped through the doorway.

The front door closed softly behind them.

The quiet that followed felt almost foreign.

There were no sirens.

No shouting.

No gunfire.

Only the gentle ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere deeper inside the house.

Frisk remained near the doorway, unsure whether she should take another step.

The house smelled faintly of cinnamon.

Fresh bread.

Vanilla.

Something sweet was baking somewhere.

It didn't feel like the home of someone connected to one of the most powerful criminal organizations in the city.

It felt...

Normal.

Toriel slipped off her shoes near the door and smiled back at Frisk.

"You need not stand there, dear."

Frisk blinked.

"...Sorry."

"There is nothing to apologize for."

Toriel walked farther inside.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

Comfortable.

Frisk almost laughed.

She had no idea how to do that.

The living room was modest.

A worn sofa sat facing a brick fireplace.

Bookshelves lined one wall from floor to ceiling, packed with novels whose spines had clearly been read more than once.

Family photographs rested atop the mantle.

Most were turned slightly away from the room.

Frisk caught only brief glimpses.

A smiling goat monster.

A young monster with long ears.

Another photograph lying face down.

She looked away before she could stare.

Toriel looked over her dust-covered clothes with quiet concern.

"I imagine you would appreciate a bath."

Frisk stiffened.

"I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense."

Toriel smiled.

"You have had a difficult day."

That was...

An understatement.

Toriel disappeared into another room before Frisk could answer.

A moment later she returned carrying a large towel.

"Here."

Frisk accepted it carefully.

"...Thank you."

"You are quite welcome."

She gestured toward the staircase.

"The bathroom is upstairs."

Frisk hesitated.

"My clothes..."

"I have already thought of that."

Toriel opened a nearby closet and removed a neatly folded stack of clothing.

"They belonged to..."

She paused.

Only for a heartbeat.

"...someone close to me."

Her smile returned, though it carried something sad beneath it.

"I believe they should fit you."

Frisk carefully accepted the folded clothes.

A soft green sweater.

Comfortable black leggings.

A pair of thick socks.

They smelled faintly of lavender.

"I'll wash your clothes while you bathe."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

The answer was gentle.

"I want to."

Frisk looked down at the clothes in her hands.

Nobody had ever wanted to do something for her simply because they wanted to.

She wasn't sure how to respond.

Toriel seemed to recognize that.

"You needn't say anything."

She smiled again.

"The bathroom is the second door on the right."

Frisk quietly climbed the stairs.

The bathroom was warm.

Spotless.

A small wicker basket sat beside the sink, filled with neatly rolled towels.

Candles lined the windowsill, though none were lit.

She turned on the faucet.

Steam slowly filled the room.

For several minutes, she simply stood there watching the water.

The day replayed itself inside her head.

Gunfire.

Papyrus.

Grillby's.

Sans.

Undyne.

The clothing store.

Everything had happened so quickly that her mind had barely kept up.

She slowly peeled off the store-bought clothes.

Bruises had already begun blooming across her ribs.

Her knees were scraped raw from diving across store floors.

There was dried blood beneath her fingernails she couldn't remember getting.

"...Wow."

She hadn't realized how badly she'd been knocked around.

The hot water stung every cut.

She welcomed it.

By the time she stepped back out nearly half an hour later, she felt like an entirely different person.

Cleaner.

Still exhausted.

Still overwhelmed.

But cleaner.

The green sweater fit almost perfectly.

The sleeves hung just slightly past her wrists.

The leggings were comfortable enough that she briefly forgot they weren't hers.

She quietly carried her dirty clothes downstairs.

Toriel was waiting in the kitchen.

The washing machine hummed softly somewhere nearby.

She looked up and smiled.

"Oh."

Her eyes brightened.

"They fit wonderfully."

Frisk looked down awkwardly.

"...Thanks."

"You look much more comfortable."

"I... am."

Toriel seemed pleased by that.

The kitchen was unlike anything Frisk had ever seen.

Copper pots hung neatly above the island.

Fresh herbs grew beside the window.

Everything had its place.

Nothing felt expensive.

Just...

Loved.

Toriel tied an apron around her waist.

"I hope you enjoy cinnamon."

Frisk blinked.

"...Cinnamon?"

"I am making a pie."

She spoke as though this explained everything.

Frisk looked toward the oven.

"...Now?"

"Of course."

Toriel reached for a bag of flour.

"You looked hungry."

Frisk laughed softly.

"I guess I am."

"I suspected as much."

Within minutes, the kitchen filled with quiet activity.

Toriel measured flour with practiced ease.

Mixed butter into the bowl.

Added sugar.

A pinch of salt.

She hummed quietly as she worked.

Frisk found herself watching.

"You bake a lot?"

Toriel smiled without looking up.

"I find it calming."

She cracked an egg into the mixture.

"And everyone deserves a warm meal after a difficult day."

Frisk leaned against the counter.

"...Even strangers?"

Toriel finally looked at her.

"Especially strangers."

The answer came so naturally that Frisk almost forgot to breathe.

Toriel continued kneading the dough.

"You never know how long it has been since someone has shown them kindness."

Frisk lowered her eyes.

"...Not everyone deserves kindness."

Toriel sprinkled flour across the countertop.

"No."

She folded the dough carefully.

"But everyone deserves the chance to receive it."

Silence settled between them.

Not awkward.

Comfortable.

The kind of silence that didn't demand filling.

Toriel eventually slid the finished pie into the oven.

The timer clicked.

"There."

She dusted flour from her hands.

"Now we wait."

Frisk watched her.

"...You really aren't what I expected."

Toriel tilted her head.

"Oh?"

Frisk almost answered.

Almost admitted that she'd expected someone colder.

Someone dangerous.

Someone more like the stories she'd heard.

Instead, she stopped herself.

"I just..."

She searched for another way to say it.

"...thought you'd be different."

Toriel chuckled softly.

"I imagine many people do."

Before Frisk could ask what she meant, the timer on the washing machine chimed.

Toriel smiled.

"I shall be right back."

She disappeared into the laundry room.

Frisk remained alone in the kitchen.

The scent of cinnamon slowly filled the house.

Warm.

Sweet.

Comforting.

She rested one hand against the countertop and quietly looked around.

The mission was still going according to plan.

Technically.

She had gained Papyrus's trust.

She had met Undyne.

She had entered one of the Family's safe houses.

She had discovered someone the Black Roses had never even mentioned.

Information.

Valuable information.

She should have been cataloging every detail.

Instead...

She found herself wondering how someone like Toriel could possibly belong to the Family.

Nothing about her fit the image Evelyn had spent hours building.

Frisk wasn't sure whether that made Toriel a very good liar...

Or Evelyn a very convincing one.

She wasn't certain which answer unsettled her more.