Inside, the home... It was a picture of domestic perfection: a warm hearth, the smell of fresh food, and soft laughter that ignored the cold street outside.

The father, the same man who had stood by while his firstborn was cast out, laughed as he lifted his city daughter. He kissed her forehead with a tenderness that felt like a physical insult. Beside him, the mother smoothed her son’s hair, her face glowing with a warmth she had denied to Hoppy.

Maddy whispered, her voice thick with disgust.

"A perfect family..."

The contrast was sickening. Inside, there was silk and comfort; outside, just a few feet away, Hoppy’s torn hair still lay in the dirt. Every smile shared at that table was built on the betrayal of a child who had done nothing wrong.

This peace was a mockery. To these people, Hoppy was a mistake to be buried, but to Maddy, she was the only thing in this city that mattered.

Her patience snapped, she was done watching this hollow man play act as a loving father while Hoppy was missing felt like a physical weight on her chest.

"I’m done with this sh*t."

Maddy drifted away from the dining table, her form gliding through solid walls and heavy tapestries. She didn’t need eyes to see. Centering herself, she pulsed her energy downward, letting Seismic Dominion take hold.

An invisible, high frequency ripple expanded from her feet, vibrating through the stone foundation, the wooden floorboards, and the deep earth beneath the estate. She was done with the lies; if they had hidden the girl in a cellar or behind a false wall, the earth would tell her.

Every vibration in the house became a map in her mind. She could feel the skittering of mice behind the pantry walls, the rhythmic thumping of the family’s hearts in the dining room, their annoying chattering and even the slow drip of a leaky pipe in the washroom.

She swept through every corner. She drifted through the locked attic, the master bedroom, and the dark, dusty crawlspaces. She even sank through the floor into the cellar, passing through crates of expensive wine and cured meats.

"Where are you? Hoppy, please where are you?"

She whispered, her desperation mounting. She checked the thickness of the walls for hidden compartments and scanned the floor for hollow echoes that might suggest a secret dungeon.

But the seismic feedback was brutally clear: there were no hidden rooms. There was no small, trembling heartbeat tucked away in a cage...

No Hoppy.

Maddy stood in the center of the dark cellar, her white, ghostly glow illuminating the cold stone. A wave of cold realization washed over her.

"She’s truly not here."

Maddy thought, her fists clenching as she solidified her form back into reality for a moment.

"It would be better if she were just locked away," she thought, her teeth grinding. "I could have broken the door. I could have freed her. But he didn’t even do that. He truly got rid of her. He just... threw her away."

The sound of shattering glass tore through the silence of the cellar, cutting through Maddy’s spiraling rage. She immediately surged back up through the floor, her form a flickering ghost as she reappeared in the corner of the dining room.

The merchant sat frozen at the head of the table. Shards of a fine wine glass lay scattered across the polished wood and the floor.

His wife cried out, her chair scraping back:

"Oh, dear! Are you alright?"

The man stammered, his voice thin and brittle.

"I—I’m fine. It just slipped."

He lunged forward, his movements frantic and clumsy as he tried to grab the broken pieces.

"I’ll clean it. I’ll get it."

As he swiped at a sharp fragment, his thumb caught the edge. A bead of dark red blood welled up, dripping onto the white tablecloth and the floor below.

Holly cried, her voice full of genuine concern as she grabbed a napkin.

"Father! You’re bleeding!"

The boy stood up too, his eyes wide.

"Be careful, Papa!"

His wife hurried to his side, taking his hand.

"Honestly, you’re so tense tonight, my dear. Did something happen in the store this day?"

But the merchant didn’t look at his wife. He didn’t look at the cut. He stared down at the red stain on the floor, his body beginning to tremble. The bright, sharp red of the blood was slowly starting to blur, its color fading as it was diluted by clear, heavy droplets.

Drip. Drip.

Tears were falling from the man’s eyes, splashing onto the floor and mixing with the blood. He didn’t sob; he just sat there, leaking grief and terror in front of the family he was trying so hard to... maintain.

The merchant sat frozen, his hand bleeding and his family hovering over him, but he was no longer in the room. His mind was trapped in the memory of the conversation he’d had with Maddy at the stall. He could still hear her voice, sharp and casual, cutting through his lies.

"You’re a good father to enroll her so soon after everything that happened. The last time she told me about her hobbies, it was all drawing monsters and inventing recipes from their parts!"

He remembered how he had forced a smile then, his heart hammering against his ribs as she continued.

"She can even sing? Is there anything she can’t do? What a talented kid, you really must be so proud of her."

Then, the moment that had haunted his dreams. Maddy’s expression had shifted, her confusion turning into something more dangerous.

"Wait, your daughter... do you have another one? I mean, Hoppy was clearly very brave and loved monsters—"

The memory hit him so hard. He remembered the way the blood had drained from his face, the sheer horror of hearing that name spoken aloud. He remembered his own stuttering, pathetic reply:

"H-hoppy... M-Miss, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but my daughter’s name is Holly—"

He could still see Maddy’s stunned face

"W-what? What are you saying, sir? That girl had the same hair color as you—"

And then, his final, unforgivable lie. The lie he told to protect his reputation, to keep his slime store profitable, and to prevent any "baggage" from the ruins of Oozewell from following him into his new, clean life in the capital.

"Please... you are clearly mistaken, miss. My daughter... she wasn’t lost during the attack. Oozewell may be my birthplace, but I do not have a daughter named H-hoppy. I think you have the wrong person."