The clock on the wall of Furbobo Weekly’s deserted office ticked past midnight. Dust motes danced in the dim glow of a single desk lamp, illuminating stacks of unfinished manuscripts and empty coffee cups. At the center of the chaos sat Nihilux, her purple-tinted hair a disheveled mess, a pen tucked behind her ear, and her eyes fixed on the blank page before her.
“Almost... almost done with the draft, Ms. Pearl, you really don't need to rush me,” she muttered to herself, mimicking the voice she dreaded hearing. She had been saying that for three days now.
The door slid open without a sound.
Standing in the doorway was Pearl, her pale gold hair cascading over her shoulders, the blue-green tips shimmering like ocean waves. Her ice-blue irises scanned the room with mechanical precision, and the bioluminescent fins near her ears caught the faint light. As CEO of Planarcadia and a senior manager of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department, she was not accustomed to delays.
“Nihilux,” Pearl said, her voice calm but carrying an edge of finality. “You missed the deadline. Again.”
Nihilux flinched, nearly knocking over her coffee. “Pearl! I—look, I know, but the final chapter of Fluffy Across the Blue—it has to be perfect. The fans are waiting. I’m waiting. The ending has to mean something.”
Pearl stepped further into the room, her black waistcoat and ankle-length skirt rustling softly. She picked up a stray sketch from the floor—a panel showing a small, fluffy creature staring up at a vast, starry sky. Her fingers, jointed and precise, traced the lines with unexpected gentleness.
“You pursue beauty in chaos,” Pearl observed, setting the sketch down. “I was created to analyze art, to preserve it. But you... you create it from nothing. That is something my calculations cannot fully replicate.”
Nihilux blinked. “Was that... a compliment?”
“It was an observation.” Pearl’s lips curved into the faintest smile—an expression she had learned to mimic but never quite mastered. “However, observation does not excuse the delay. The Furbobo Weekly’s creditors are becoming... insistent. And as CEO, I must ensure Planarcadia’s investments remain solvent.”
Nihilux groaned, dropping her head onto the desk. “You sound like my mother. The strictest mother of Aeons, they call me, but you give her a run for her money.”
“I am not your mother. I am your publisher. And your deadline was yesterday.”
“Technically, it’s still yesterday in the Dovebrook District time zone.”
Pearl tilted her head, her internal chronometer recalibrating. “That is... technically correct. I will grant you six more hours.”
Nihilux’s head shot up. “Six hours?!”
“Six hours.” Pearl turned toward the door, then paused. “I have read your work, Nihilux. All of it. The way you weave light into shadow, hope into despair—it reminds me of why I chose to preserve art rather than simply catalog it. Do not let perfection become the enemy of completion.”
And with that, she was gone, the door sliding shut behind her.
Nihilux stared at the empty doorway, her heart pounding. Then she looked down at the blank page.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, she picked up her pen.
---
Six hours later, Pearl returned to find Nihilux asleep at her desk, her cheek pressed against a freshly printed manuscript. The final page read: “And so, the little furbo looked up at the stars and realized—home was not a place. It was the ones who waited for you there.”
Pearl picked up the page, her optical sensors scanning every word. A soft whirring sound escaped her chest—something between a sigh and a hum.
She draped her coat over Nihilux’s shoulders, the black fabric settling like a quiet promise.
Then she left a note beside the manuscript:
“Your deadline is extended. Permanently. — Pearl”
Outside, the lights of Planarcadia glittered like scattered gems, and somewhere in the distance, a new dawn began to break.
（因为没有真珠表情包，所以就不插入表情包了，欸嘿_(虚照 好问题)）
