The front door clicked softly behind Frisk.

The scent of butterscotch and cinnamon greeted her almost immediately, drifting through the house as though it had been waiting for her return.

Toriel looked up from the kitchen just as Frisk stepped inside.

"There you are."

"I wasn't gone too long, was I?"

Toriel smiled warmly.

"Not at all. The pie has just finished baking."

She carefully removed it from the oven and placed it on a cooling rack. Steam curled lazily into the air, carrying with it the rich smell of butter and cinnamon.

"I think it needs just a few minutes before it is ready."

Frisk nodded.

"It smells incredible."

"I am relieved to hear that."

Toriel chuckled softly before disappearing into a cabinet and retrieving two plates.

"I have found that pie tastes much better when one has company."

Frisk wasn't sure how to answer that.

Most people she had known ate quickly.

Quietly.

Usually alone.

The idea that someone simply... enjoyed sharing a meal felt strangely foreign.

Toriel busied herself setting the small kitchen table.

Nothing fancy.

Just two plates.

Two forks.

Two mugs for tea.

It felt ordinary.

Comfortably ordinary.

Frisk sat down while Toriel poured steaming tea into each mug.

The silence wasn't awkward.

Neither of them seemed interested in filling every quiet moment with conversation.

It was... peaceful.

When the pie had cooled enough, Toriel sliced generous portions onto each plate.

"I do hope you enjoy cinnamon."

"I don't think I've ever had homemade pie before."

Toriel paused halfway through serving herself.

"...Never?"

Frisk shrugged.

"Usually it came from convenience stores."

"Oh."

The single word carried enough sympathy to make Frisk regret saying anything.

Toriel didn't dwell on it.

Instead, she smiled gently.

"Then I suppose we shall have to correct that."

Frisk took her first bite.

The crust practically melted.

The filling was sweet without being overpowering.

Warm butterscotch mixed perfectly with cinnamon and brown sugar.

She hadn't realized how hungry she actually was.

Toriel noticed.

"I take it that is a good sign."

Frisk swallowed.

"...It's the best pie I've ever eaten."

Toriel beamed.

"That makes me very happy."

For a while, they simply ate together.

Occasionally, Toriel would point out something amusing happening outside the kitchen window.

A squirrel stealing birdseed.

Two neighborhood children arguing over whose turn it was to ride a scooter.

An elderly couple walking hand in hand down the sidewalk.

Nothing important.

Nothing dangerous.

Just life.

It felt strangely... normal.

Eventually, they finished eating, and before Frisk could offer to help, Toriel was already collecting the dishes.

"You don't have to do that," Frisk said.

"I know."

Toriel smiled over her shoulder.

"But I enjoy taking care of my guests."

Guests.

Not burdens.

Not liabilities.

Guests.

The word lingered with Frisk long after Toriel carried the dishes to the sink.

The rest of the morning passed quietly.

Toriel never asked about the Family.

Never asked about Papyrus.

Never asked why Undyne had brought Frisk here.

If she knew anything about the Syndicate's business, she kept it entirely to herself.

Instead, she talked about her garden.

She showed Frisk rows of tomatoes growing behind the house.

Small patches of herbs lined the fence.

Lavender.

Rosemary.

Basil.

A tiny greenhouse sat near the back corner of the yard.

"I enjoy growing things," Toriel explained while watering a row of flowers. "It reminds me that even difficult seasons eventually pass."

Frisk helped without being asked.

She carried watering cans.

Pulled a few weeds.

Moved bags of soil wherever Toriel needed them.

The work was simple.

Honest.

By lunchtime, Toriel insisted they eat sandwiches outside beneath the shade of an old oak tree.

In the afternoon, they baked another pie.

Not because they needed one.

Because Toriel thought it would be fun to teach her.

Frisk laughed more than once when flour somehow ended up on both of their faces.

"You are supposed to mix the ingredients," Toriel laughed. "Not yourself."

"I think the flour attacked me."

"I believe the flour is innocent."

By early evening, the second pie sat cooling on the kitchen counter while sunlight painted the walls gold.

The neighborhood slowly quieted.

Children disappeared indoors.

Porch lights flickered on one by one.

The warmth of the day faded into a cool evening breeze.

Dinner was simple.

Soup.

Fresh bread.

Leftover pie afterward.

Again, Toriel never asked questions she had no right to ask.

She seemed content simply knowing Frisk was safe.

As darkness settled over the neighborhood, Toriel stretched with a quiet yawn.

"I must admit..."

She smiled apologetically.

"I am beginning to feel my age."

Frisk smiled faintly.

"You don't seem old."

Toriel laughed.

"That is very kind of you."

She carried her empty mug to the sink.

"I usually retire rather early."

Frisk nodded.

"I'll probably head to bed too."

Toriel smiled.

"The guest room is already prepared."

She paused in the hallway.

"If you need anything during the night, do not hesitate to wake me."

"I will."

"I mean it."

"I know."

"Good."

With one final warm smile, Toriel disappeared down the hallway.

A bedroom door opened.

Then quietly closed.

A few minutes later, the house fell completely silent.

Frisk remained seated in the living room.

Waiting.

The grandfather clock ticked steadily.

Nine thirty.

Then ten.

Ten fifteen.

She waited another half hour.

Just to be certain.

Finally...

Headlights briefly swept across the living room ceiling.

A vehicle slowed outside.

It parked for only a short while.

Something landed softly against the front porch.

Then the engine continued down the street.

Frisk counted slowly to sixty before standing.

She crossed the dark living room as quietly as she could and eased the front door open.

A small cardboard parcel rested neatly beside the welcome mat.

No address.

No postage.

No markings.

Exactly as Evelyn had promised.

She carried it inside and quietly locked the door behind her.

The package was surprisingly light.

She knelt beside the coffee table and carefully opened it.

Foam padding lined the inside.

Nestled within were several tiny electronic devices.

Smaller than coins.

Each one fitted with a thin adhesive backing.

Listening devices.

Beside them sat a folded instruction sheet.

One bug every location.

One is enough.

Never place two in the same room.

Avoid obvious hiding places.

Destroy these instructions.

Frisk swallowed.

There were far more devices than she expected.

Enough for dozens of locations.

She folded the paper once.

Twice.

Then lit it over the fireplace until nothing remained but ash.

The tiny devices sat silently inside the box.

Waiting.

She picked one up between two fingers.

It barely weighed anything.

The first betrayal.

Frisk looked toward the hallway.

Nothing.

Toriel's bedroom remained dark.

She slipped off her shoes.

Every step across the hardwood floor felt impossibly loud.

She paused outside the kitchen.

Still silent.

She carefully opened one cabinet beneath the sink.

Cleaning supplies.

Perfect.

With trembling fingers, she pressed one listening device beneath the wooden shelf where no one would think to look.

It clicked softly into place.

Invisible.

Hidden.

Done.

She slowly closed the cabinet.

No sound.

No movement.

No footsteps.

She stood there for another several seconds before finally exhaling.

One down.

The rest remained inside the box.

Frisk gathered them carefully and slipped each tiny device into the pockets of the borrowed sweater.

By the time the box was empty, her pockets felt strangely heavy.

Not because of the weight.

Because of what they represented.

She quietly returned to the guest room and closed the door behind her.

Moonlight spilled across the bed through the curtains.

Frisk sat on the edge of the mattress.

Her fingers brushed against the bugs hidden in her pockets.

There were enough to spy on every place the Family trusted.

Enough to dismantle their entire organization.

And Toriel...

Toriel would never even know the first one was there.