The days passed faster than expected.
With Lovey around, everything just… worked. She was scarily efficient—didn’t need reminders, didn’t need a checklist. She just cleaned, sorted, melted scrap metal like it was part of her default programming. Without even being told, she’d created a whole organized pile of useful parts on the second floor.
Sebastian, meanwhile, spent his days studying. Again. Not that there was much left to learn at this point. After weeks buried in manuals, guides, system files, and machine logs, he was basically caught up on Brim’s tech landscape—at least what the D-Sector had to offer. He hadn’t left it since arriving.
Right now, he was sketching another schematic—his thousandth, probably—when his wristband pinged.
Incoming call: Cordell. The only contact he had saved.
Sebastian tapped “Accept,” and a grainy blue hologram of Cordell shimmered to life above the table.
“What’s up, guy?” Sebastian said, not even looking up from his draft.
Cordell leaned lazily against what was clearly an unloaded, low-res hologram of a countertop. “Hey, Sebastian! Stove’s acting up. Almost singed Clara this morning.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow and finally set his pencil down.
“What do you mean ‘singed’?”
Cordell chuckled. “She set it to low, y’know, prepping for breakfast rush—and the damn thing blasted up like a rocket thruster.”
Sebastian snorted. “Alright, yeah. I’ll head over.”
He closed the call with a flick of his wrist, grabbed a toolkit from the bench, and called out, “Lovey! Wanna come with? Could be a learning experience or something.”
She appeared at the top of the stairs in seconds.
“Do you want me to accompany you?”
Sebastian gave her a look. Not angry. Just… tired.
“Is that what you want?”
“To serve you in the best way I can,” she said—too fast. Too automatic.
Sebastian looked off to the side, like staring into a camera that wasn’t there.
He sighed.
“…Alright, whatever. Come on. Better they get to know you anyway.”
The walk to the diner was quiet.
Lovey moved beside him like a shadow—silent, synchronized, unnervingly calm. She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t look around. Just kept perfect pace, like she’d mapped the route before they left.
Sebastian occasionally glanced at her but said nothing.
When they reached the diner, it was already alive with morning bustle. The windows were fogged from kitchen heat, and the familiar smell of oil, eggs, and overworked stoves wafted through the door.
Sebastian stepped in, toolkit in hand, Lovey a step behind him.
Cordell looked up from the counter.
Ami spotted them from the kitchen window and grinned the second she saw the two walk in together.
“Well look at this,” she said, smirking. “And here I thought you didn’t believe in socializing.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Ami.”
“I knew you were a charmer,” she added, ignoring him completely. “Grumpy, quiet, broody… Girls eat that up. Took you long enough to bring your girlfriend around.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Sebastian stopped.
Cold.
Lovey looked between them, unbothered. “I am not his—”
“Don’t,” Sebastian cut her off, tone flat. He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t flinch.
Just looked at Ami, dead in the eye.
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not anyone’s anything. She’s a tech salvage I rebuilt. That’s it.”
The diner quieted slightly. Even Cordell gave a low whistle from behind the bar.
Ami blinked. “…Damn, alright. Ice cold.”
Sebastian didn’t smile. “Lovey,” he said, not looking at her, “go check the stove. See if you can figure out what’s wrong.”
Lovey nodded without hesitation. “Understood.”
She moved past them, silent and smooth, heading toward the back of the kitchen.
Cordell raised an eyebrow. “You always this charming in the morning?”
Sebastian exhaled and set the toolkit down on the counter. “Only before coffee.”
Cordell leaned forward, dropping his voice slightly. “You hear the Bubble Boys have been poking around again?”
Sebastian’s expression didn’t change. But his tone did—just a hair sharper.
“Where?”
“Two blocks down. Had a crew shaking down one of the synth vendors. Nothin’ big yet, but… the way they’ve been struttin’ around? Feels like something’s brewing.”
Sebastian glanced toward the kitchen, where Lovey was already crouched near the stove, pulling up diagnostics.
Then he looked back at Cordell.
“Guess I picked a good day to show up.”
From the back kitchen, Lovey’s voice rang out—clear, calm, and way too loud:
“Master. I have located the issue.”
Sebastian’s eye twitched.
Cordell raised an eyebrow. “Master, huh?”
“Don’t,” Sebastian muttered, already walking toward the kitchen.
As he passed through the swinging doors, he called back, “Lovey—stop calling me that. Sebastian. Use Sebastian.”
“Understood,” she said, crouched beside the lower panels of the industrial stove. “Sebastian. I have located the issue.”
He knelt down beside her, peering into the tight compartment she’d pried open.
Inside, wedged between a heating coil and a temperature regulator, was a melted, half-charred hunk of bright pink plastic.
It had one googly eye still attached.
Sebastian squinted. “Is that a… unicorn?”
“According to my scan, it is a toy figurine from the Glitterhoof collection,” Lovey said plainly. “It appears to have been forced into the thermal intake vent, likely by a child.”
He reached in with a pair of pliers, carefully extracting the mangled creature.
“Guess that explains the fireball effect.”
“I have also logged a new alert category: unauthorized unicorn obstruction.”
Sebastian gave her a side-eye. “Don’t get smart with me.”
“I am already smart,” she replied.
He stood up with a sigh, tossing the toy into the waste bin. “Alright. Reset the vent timer and run a heat sync check just to be safe.”
Lovey nodded, already typing the override into the stove’s touchscreen interface.
Sebastian turned and leaned out the kitchen door. “Hey Cordell! Tell Clara to keep the Glitterhoof apocalypse out of the damn kitchen.”
Cordell laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably Milo’s. Kid’s been shoving those things into every crevice he can find lately.”
“Tell him the next one goes in his toaster,” Sebastian called back.
The smell of singed glitter and metal still lingered in the kitchen when the front door opened with a harsh chime.
Heavy boots. Muffled laughter. The tone of voices that were just a little too loud, a little too sure of themselves.
Sebastian froze mid-step.
Cordell looked up from behind the counter, face immediately tightening. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”
Three men stepped inside—each wearing scuffed jackets with bubble-pattern patches sewn into the shoulders. One had chrome implants along his jawline. Another chewed something red and sticky like he was trying to be gross. The third? Bigger. Meaner. Quiet.
Bubble Boys.
They moved like they owned the room.
“Morning,” the lead one said, leaning on the counter like it was his. “Heard the stove’s actin’ up. Just wanted to make sure our friends here weren’t havin’ any trouble.”
Cordell didn’t respond. Didn’t even look up.
The second one grinned. “Heard someone new’s been hangin’ around too. Thought we’d come say hi.”
Sebastian stepped out from the kitchen slowly, wiping his hands on a rag.
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t posture.
Just looked at them like they were loud background noise.
The tallest one took a step forward. “You the one fixin’ things around here?”
Sebastian blinked once.
Then turned to the little serving window between the kitchen and counter.
“Lovey,” he said flatly.
No panic. No edge.
Just that name. Like a button press.
A half-second later, from behind the open kitchen pass-through, a soft whir hummed to life. A metal panel on Lovey’s arm rotated, and a compact cannon unfolded just enough to peek over the edge of the pass—dead silent.
It locked onto the speaker.
The light on its side turned red.
The room went still.
The loud one stepped back immediately. “What the hell is that?”
“Insurance,” Sebastian replied, deadpan.
“Is that legal?”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t ask.”
The third guy—the big one—tensed like he was about to try something.
The cannon adjusted.
Just a little.
He stopped.
“Now,” Sebastian said, finally dropping the rag onto the counter, “you were sayin’ something about checking in?”
The three Bubble Boys looked at each other. Then back at Lovey.
She didn’t say a word.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t need to.
The cannon hummed, just loud enough to be a promise.
The loud one cleared his throat. “Just… neighborhood stuff. We’re all good here. Right?”
“Super good,” Sebastian said, tone dry. “Thanks for stopping by.”
They left without another word.
The door shut behind them with a sharp ding.
Cordell let out a long breath.
“Remind me to comp your meal next time.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You don’t even charge me.”
“Exactly.”
After that whole mess went don Sebastian sat at the counter with a plate in front of him—stacked high with greasy eggs, some charred bacon, and toast that had clearly was put in the oven instead the
Lovey stood nearby, silent as always, her arm-cannon having neatly folded back into place like it was never there.
She watched him chew for a moment.
Then, finally: “Why didn’t you react?”
Sebastian didn’t look up. “I did.”
“You did not raise your voice. Your breathing did not change. Your heart rate remained stable.”
He jabbed his fork into a rubbery slice of bacon. “So?”
“Most humans show signs of stress during conflict.”
“Guess im not most.”
Lovey blinked. “You were calm.”
“They weren’t a threat.”
She stared at him for another beat.
“Was that a test?” she asked. “Of me?”
He paused mid-chew. Thought about lying
“Yeah.”
She didn’t respond right away.
Instead, she turned slightly, checking the pass-through window as if expecting the Bubble Boys to return.
“They were not a threat,” she said.
Sebastian swallowed. “Not this time.”
“Should I have fired?”
He gave her a look—just a brief one. “Would you have?”
“Yes. You gave the command.”
“I gave your name, Lovey. Not an order.”
She processed that.
Then, softly: “Then what was the purpose of calling me?”
“To remind them I don’t need to raise my voice.”
Another bite. He chewed in silence.
Lovey tilted her head. “That’s… inefficient.”
He smirked. “Yeah. But it’s effective.”
A beat of quiet passed between them again. The hum of the kitchen, the sizzle of something on the grill, distant noise from the street.
Then Lovey, softly: “You do not fear them.”
Sebastian looked up, just for a second. “No.”
“Should you?”
He thought about it.
Then went back to his toast. “Probably”
