Lemuen filed the letter away after glancing at the envelope for barely a second.
It was stamped with the official seal of the Laterano Education Department. Short, clean, and far too formal for something so small—unless you happened to be the older sister of a young Sankta who was starting to get too close to the two most "concerning" names in school.
The letter had arrived that afternoon, delivered by a winged courier far too young to understand the weight of what he was carrying. But Lemuen didn't need long to guess who the report was about—or why.
The sentence was brief.
Student: Exusiai – minor violation report (Originium device malfunction, suspected team negligence).
But the impact was anything but minor, at least for someone like Lemuen—who always made sure her little sister came home with a clean uniform and a spotless record.
That evening, Exu came home with a small smile, like always. There was no sign of guilt. No hesitation. She dropped her bag, took off her shoes, and plopped herself down at the dining table.
"What's the menu today?" she asked brightly.
Lemuen replied softly. "Pea soup and toasted bread."
"Excellent. I'm ready to be spoon-fed."
Lemuen didn't laugh. She sat down, opened her notebook—but not to jot down a recipe or work memo. She unfolded the letter, now without its envelope.
"Exu," she said quietly.
"Hm?" Exu was watching her reflection in her spoon.
"There was a report from school."
Exu didn't answer right away. She gently set her spoon down and turned toward Lemuen.
"Written warning?" she guessed.
"Yes."
"Probably about the Originium tool. But hey—we didn't explode."
Lemuen stared at her. "Don't you think it's serious?"
"Half serious. I mean… we were holding the device. But it started sparking first."
"It's not about the device," Lemuen said. "It's about you. And… Mostima."
Her tone wasn't harsh. Not cold. But… clear.
After dinner, they sat in the living room.
Usually, this was when Lemuen would comb Exu's hair or play some calm Laterano documentary about moral history. But tonight, there was no comb. No screen.
"Exu," Lemuen said. "I spoke with Fiammetta."
Exu turned. "I know."
"She told me about how close you've become with Mostima."
"And you told her to sit next to me."
Lemuen said nothing.
"You know I'm not a little kid anymore."
"You're still young," Lemuen said—soft, but firm.
"My body is small. But my mind… isn't that short."
Lemuen lowered her eyes. "I'm just scared."
"Scared of what?"
"That you'll become someone I… can't understand."
That sentence dropped like a stone.
Exu looked at Lemuen for a long moment. Then she stood slowly.
"Who do you want me to be?"
Lemuen didn't answer.
"Someone who stays quiet? Sits properly? Doesn't make friends with the ones you think are 'problematic'?"
"That's not it—"
"Then what?"
Lemuen stood too. "I just don't want you to get pulled into trouble. I want you safe. I want you to stay the Exu I know."
Exu looked up at her. Her face wasn't angry. But it wasn't smiling either.
"I am still Exu," she said softly. "But if I only become the version of me that you like… then I'm not really anyone at all."
That night, they went to sleep without speaking.
And for the first time in a long while, the house didn't feel warm.
The next morning, Exu arrived at school earlier than usual. She sat alone on the bench behind the garden, opened a book, and stared—not reading. Her mind was still stuck in the living room from the night before.
Footsteps approached.
"You're out early," said Mostima, sitting beside her.
"Woke up too early."
"Signs of thinking all night."
Exu didn't respond.
Mostima looked at her for a moment. "Fought?"
"A little."
"With Lemuen?"
"Yeah."
Mostima leaned back. "She's a good person. Too good. Sometimes goodness can feel like a cage."
Exu stared straight ahead. "She's afraid I'm changing."
"You are changing."
Exu turned toward her.
"Everyone changes. But you're changing because you're growing. Not because of anyone else."
Exu took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose her. But… I also don't want to live only in the version she created for me."
Mostima looked back. "Then maybe it's time you show her… that the Exu she knows can still have new sides."
That afternoon, as the sun sank behind Laterano's tall towers, Exu came home. She opened the door and found Lemuen sitting on the sofa, still in her work clothes.
No words.
Exu placed her bag down. Stood in front of her.
"I… don't want to fight," she said.
Lemuen turned.
"But I can't pretend to be someone with no thoughts of her own. I like talking. I like my friends. And I… won't turn into whatever version you want."
Lemuen stood slowly. Her steps were quiet. She moved closer—and hugged Exu.
Not tightly.
But enough.
"I'm learning too," Lemuen whispered. "That protecting… sometimes means letting you grow."