I walked Danny back to the street outside Laozhang Noodles. He still looked shell-shocked, like I’d handed him a signed deed to the city instead of a promise of tools and manpower and finding out I was also living out in the trainyard like a bum. But that is neither here nor there, and I ain't about to explain shit till we meet again next time.

  God knows I need to get myself an ID.

  Not an American ID, just an ID. A possible paper train to explain myself.

  “Take care, Danny,” I said, giving him a quick nod. “And seriously, bring your daughter here next time, I’ll treat her too”

  He mumbled something halfway between gratitude and disbelief, then headed down the sidewalk with that stiff gait of a man whose world had just been tilted ten degrees off centre. He kept glancing back at me as I might suddenly revoke the offer, or turn into mist, or reveal I’d been joking the whole time.

  I didn’t blame him. It’s not every day some guy in a hoodie tells you he can single-handedly resurrect the local economy.

  I waited until he turned the corner and disappeared, then let out a breath and rolled my shoulders. One more plate spun into motion. One more piece lined up on the board. Dock workers. Cleaned shipyards. The infrastructure is actually functioning. None of it was glamorous, but hell, it mattered. Terran shipyard rehauling is what I’m gonna do next, and oh boy, are they gonna flip out once they see the equipment I bring.

  Unche Zhang was resting out at the counter, saw me and said, “Are you sure you aren’t coming back to work here, Lengzhai? Lots of girls ask. They want their noodle boy back”

  Goddamn that fucking cringe name. I shook my head and simply said, “ Sorry, Uncle, got a bigger job, pays well too. “

  He snorted, “Pay so well, you still stay at the trainyard..still homeless. Whenever you want to comeback you come. My nephew not the same leh. He's so fat and ugly. Girls don't like him! They want their Noodle boy back, Haiya-” and simply went back behind the wok to start working on the Lunch rush hour soon.

  I stepped back inside long enough to drop a wad of bills on the counter under the bowl discreetly. A few hundred-dollar bills, more than the meal cost, but Laozhang was too busy to notice tips larger than the usual part-time cash they gave me. Still have a few coins lying about from when I raided the ABB warehouse that time. Thought I’d pay it forward.

  I left before he could grab my ass and refuse.

  I adjusted my jacket, mentally flipping through everything on my plate. Monica was probably halfway through flattening another piece of land for her Psi Damper project

  Not bad for a morning goal. But it’s almost rush hour, I'd better bail first before Auntie Zhang comes back. Went to next door to check out what’s up with Jinho. Back then, I was too busy with Shadow stalker stuff to actually check up on him.

  He seems to be doing well, still making bread. This Korean bread store is suddenly the place that has somehow become the unofficial watering hole for every auntie within a five-block radius.

  Which meant, of course, that the sidewalk was clogged.

  The reason why was standing behind the glass window: Jinho, the so-called breadboy, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his hair like strategically placed snowflakes. He kneaded dough with the sort of intensity normally reserved for k-drama confession scenes. And naturally, a semicircle of aunties and starry-eyed girls were pressed against the window, sighing like the boy was saving lives instead of prepping sweet buns.

  I slowed, because the buzz alone was impossible to ignore.

  There he was, Brockton Bay’s answer to the K-pop industrial complex, The Breadboy of Brockton Bay. Bread Oppa extraordinaire-shaping dough like it personally owed him rent. Niama, this fucker…My Hubae is still so popular.

  Tch…

  Every time he brushed his fringe back, the crowd behind me emitted a synchronised gasp. A few aunties fanned themselves with menus. Someone even muttered a prayer of thanks to whichever ancestor had blessed this bakery with eye candy. When you look like fucking Sunjin woo, you praise the dough that comes from those heavenly hands.

  I exhaled through my nose. Good for him. A little joy didn’t hurt the city. Relax. This is normal for him.

  I stepped through the bakery door, a jingle of bells announcing my arrival. Warm air washed over me, thick with the scent of butter, yeast, and sugar. The smell of cinnamon, butter and bacon? Came assaulting my senses.

  Jinho glanced up at the sound. His expression lit up when he was making that bread, not with fangirl intensity but that earnest, hardworking glow people had when they genuinely enjoyed what they did.

  I nodded back. “Morning, Breadboy.” Hah!

  He laughed softly, wiping his hands on his apron before approaching the counter ignoring me while serving the girl next to me. Tch, is he still butthurt from before? I stepped aside to let a trio of giggling girls swoop in and request their cinnamon buns “extra warm, please oppa,” while I waited.

  When they finally floated away clutching their pastries like love letters, Jinho leaned on the counter. He raised a brow, watching me like I was as unusual as the first time we met, I outed myself by saying I was a Parahuman. That's dangerous here in Brockton Bay. Which, to be fair, I had done. But frankly? Lately? I dont seem to care about the identity issue thing. It all feels so pointless when you think about it. Who’s gonna care? Honestly? Only those who wanna harm you would. Not a lot of things could harm him except for a few choice Parahuman and endbringers.

  I shrugged. “Saw the crowd. Had to check if you were secretly filming a music video again to post online on Pho.”

  He snorted, shaking his head as he reached for a tray of fresh bread. The kid couldn’t hide pride even if he tried.”Said you’re gonna catch up, you bail on me for that underage buff girl you brought. Didn't think you’re into little girls”

  I pointed at the soft buns round, golden, steaming and glaring at fucker. Are you saying I'm a pedo? The fuck Jinho?! “Give me two strawberry buns…and no, for your information, she’s a colleague of sorts. She could probably beat your ass, too, Breadboy. I was handling a situation.”

  He packed them neatly, movements practised and elegant, like even bread deserved choreography. When he handed the packet to me, there was a faint, innocent kind of confidence in the gesture. He doesn't seem to mind that I just rattled him with the Breadboy thing, fucker already got used to it and takes pride in the damn name…tch.

  I took a bite right there. Sweet, warm, fluffy…oh fuck. This shit is actually good. What the hell? Is these real strawberries? And he’s only selling it for two dollars each? How’s he making money selling it so cheaply? But it doesn't really matter, I guess. The shop is popular enough as it is.

  “Damn,” I muttered. “You’re going to start a war if you keep making bread like this.”

  Outside, a couple of aunties pressed their noses to the glass again, arguing loudly about which of their nieces should be introduced to him first. Jinho visibly cringed. I chuckled, lifting the bag in salute. “Damn, you got some hardcore fans, huh? Grandma’s? Didn't think you vibe that way.”

  His ears went pink.

  “Hey Jason, you take that back!” He grabbed my arm, I froze mid-chew at him, suddenly grabbing me like that, almost jerked me over the counter too, before I could react, though, Karma decided to play a little fun on my social life in the form of rabid shippers who’re into BL pairing. Yep, those idiots. My nonexistent social life is in danger-

  The shout came from somewhere in the crowd gathered outside the bakery window. Then another voice joined in:

  “BREAD OPPA AND NOODLE OPPA TOGETHER~KYAAAAA!”

  “Oh my god, they’re so cute~look, look, LOOK~!”

  “SHIP! I SHIP IT!”

  I blinked slowly. Nope, fuck blinking…I was in shock with my eyes wide open, What the fuck?!

  Behind the counter, Jinho’s hand paused halfway to a tray of melon buns. His smile twitched a little, even I know my little bro dont swing that way. He’s a legitimate harem protag. Since when did the genre change? Somewhere between horror and polite customer-service paralysis, my Hubae froze up.

  Oi, what happened to that main character energy?

  The crowd outside surged toward the door like a tidal wave made of estrogen, auntie perfume, and questionable fandom logic because some author out there decided to write a romcom starring me and Fakeass Sunjin woo over here without my permission. Seriously, why does this sort of situation keep happening?

  Hey goddess? Is this your shit? You're a precog, too? Fuck you! I like girls, damnit! This shit is gay as fuck!

  Half the girls pressed up against the window, squealing; the other half began fumbling with their phones, cameras raised.

  I turned my head slightly to see what all the shouting about, there were at least fifteen of them. Aww fuck…not again.

  These rabid girls are gonna be the death of us. all of them beaming and screaming, all pointing at us. One shouted, “Noodle Oppa came to support Bread Oppa in the afternoon! That’s so romantic! Is this bromance!?” Fuck no, this isnt bromance! That shit happens in the gym, not in some bakery!

  Another corrected her: “No, no, it’s rivalry turned romance. Obviously! Look at the tension!”

  “Tension, my ass,” I muttered under my breath. Jinho made a strangled sound. He was blushing so hard he looked like a strawberry steamed bun. Oi fucker…what happened to that Harem rizz boyband energy?! Dont tell me you actually fall for this shit?! Why the fuck are you embarrassed by this?!

  More squeals erupted.

  “OH MY GOD THEY MADE EYE CONTACT AGAIN!” breaths in fujoshi*

  “When Noodle Oppa smiled earlier? I DIED. I DIED AND CAME BACK. Noodle Oppa! Come back and make noodles again! We miss you!~Saranghae!”

  "THIS IS BETTER THAN MY DRAMA!"

  The door flew open as three girls rushed inside, practically vibrating with excitement. One shoved a pen toward me.

  “Oppa autograph please?!”

  Another thrust a bakery menu at Jinho with equal enthusiasm. I looked at the pen. Then at the bun in my hand. Then at Jinho. He whispered, voice barely audible, “Jason… what… is happening?”

  I swallowed hard and answered in a whisper to him while gritting my teeth, this doofus.“What the fuck is happening?! How can you not get it? They are shipping us together, you dolt!”

  Because now two aunties were chanting, “Bread Oppa! Noodle Oppa! Bread Oppa! Noodle Oppa! Saranghaeyo!” Like it was some kind of summoning ritual? The fuck is that shit?My brain short-circuited. I can't deal with this. Somewhere outside, one particularly dedicated girl yelled:

  “JUST KISS ALREADY!” and the crowd went screaming.

  Motherfucker! You kiss him yourself bitch!~Ahh, my soul is leaving my body again. Is this how it is to die again for the second time? Dying of embarrassment? Kami-sama. Why did you send me here only to kill me with embarrassment?

  Jinho looked like he wanted to melt through the floor. I wasn’t sure if his face was red from embarrassment or if his blood sugar spiked from inhaling too much powdered sugar. Could be both. The amount of nauseating sweet sugar around us is making me wanna throw up.

  I stepped back, hands raised in surrender.

  “Nope. I’m done. I’m out,” I muttered to myself.

  But there was no escape, the crowd surged inward, the bakery packed shoulder-to-shoulder with excitable fans forming a circle around us, phones raised like we were performing a duet nobody had rehearsed for. I certainly didn't rehearse anything, not to mention expecting this sort of thing.

  Brockton Bay? What is wrong with you? It’s the water, isnt it? It’s all that Brockon piss salt and rust water. I knew there was something wrong with the water.

  I took a deep breath. Ok..not the front way.”Yo bro, is there a backroom where we can bail? Where the fuck are your parents?”

  I grab Jinho and drag his ass to the backroom around the kitchen. I didn’t so much walk Jinho to the backroom as I yanked him by the sleeve like a man escaping a cult. He followed in a daze, clutching a tray of unbaked rolls with him.

  I shoved the swinging door open with my shoulder and practically dragged him inside.

  Silence.

  Blessed, flour-scented, sanity-preserving silence, finally. Was this room sound-insulated? Pretty odd for a bakery, dont you think so? Jinho’s parents were both at the prep counter, elbow-deep in dough, staring at us with identical expressions of:,ah- so there’s the parents.

  What now?

  His mom blinked slowly. “Why was the shop shaking?”

  His dad asked, “Stampede? Earthquake? wue?”

  “No,” I said flatly, exhaling like I’d escaped a warzone. “Just your son’s fans.”

  Both parents exchanged a look equal parts resignation and migraine. Yeah, no shit. I dont pity you for having an overly handsome kid. Good genes are a curse. His parents look awfully normal, though. Is the boy adopted?

  Jinho’s mom sighed in the heavy, world-weary way only a woman who had survived years of her son’s inexplicable popularity could manage. “Again?”

  Jinho set down the tray and rubbed the back of his neck, still pink from embarrassment. “It was… louder than usual.”

  “You don’t say,” I muttered. His dad wiped his floury hands on an apron and gave me a curious once-over. “And who’s this?”

  Right, introductions time, Asian parents love the meet and greet stuff except I'm just a guy friend, not his girlfriend. I straightened my back, pushed back my hood, and offered a small, apologetic smile.

  “I’m Jason, the Chingu-” I said. “Your son’s friend.”

  Their expressions softened immediately, making me think twice that my Hubae might not actually have any guy friends at all. Just admirers and girls. Jinho’s mom brightened. “Ah! So you are the Noodle Boy they keep talking about! Jinho doesn’t talk about his male friends. I almost thought he didn't have any. So the Noodle boy is it? ”

  Jinho visibly died inside at the mention of my pseudonym. My eye twitched at that absurd name again “Please don’t call me that.”

  His dad chuckled, clapping a hand on my shoulder with surprising strength. “Well, Noodle Boy, welcome. Any friend of our Bread Boy is family.”

  I inhaled sharply through my nose. This family has naming conventions. Now I know where Jinho get his common sense from. Behind us, the muffled cries from the front continued:

  “NOODLE OPPA WHERE ARE YOU???”

  “BREAD OPPA DON’T LEAVE US!”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. Jinho slumped against the counter in shame. His mom looked toward the doorway with an expression that suggested she was mentally calculating which deity she’d angered this week.

  “Well,” she said with a smile that was far too serene for the chaos outside, “since you’re hiding here, Jason, you might as well stay for some tea.”

  “Ahhh..- “ Jinho switched into rapid-fire Korean as soon as we slipped into the back room at the offer of tea, his voice quick and earnest, like he was trying to convince them that I just dragged him away from a mob of thirsty fangirls.

  His mom glanced up from dusting flour across a big block of dough. His dad was elbow-deep in the industrial mixer, stopping now to take a break. Neither of them even blinked at the noise coming from outside, like they were used to all the shenanigans. I get the feeling this is an everyday occasion.

  I realised, abruptly, that this probably happened a lot of times with their very famous son. They probably had levels of emotional immunity I could only dream of, not to mention dealing with ABB crap. Guess everyone here got that extra grit, not just Laozhang. Even a bakery shop owner gotta have their own indifference to all the crap.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Jinho cleared his throat dramatically. “Eomma, Appa… uh… I’m going to take off for the day. I want to hang out with my friends.”

  His mom squinted at me like she was trying to determine if I was a hallucination caused by heatstroke and too much bakery sugar. Jinho turned slightly pink. “I do have friends.”

  “You have those so-called girlfriends... humph,” his father corrected. “And your customers, you Fans. Followers. Girls who cry outside because you sliced the bread nicely. That is not the same thing.”

  “I have at least two friends,” Jinho insisted. Then jabbed a thumb at me. “One is right here saving me from getting shipped by fans”

  “Hey,” I muttered. “I didn’t sign up to be the Noodle Oppa in anyone’s fanfic.”

  His mother muttered something under her breath that sounded like, “Too late, the girls out there are already writing season two on Pho-” The fuck? Do people actually write fanfiction of us?!

  Jinho clapped his hands together. “Anyway! I’m going out. Today. With Jason.”

  His father exchanged a look with his mother and just shrugged.“Well… you rarely ask for time off,” his mom said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Only when you’re sick. Or when you overslept. Or when you shit your-”

  “Ahh-That was one time, stop airing my dirty laundry, Eomma!” Jinho hissed.

  “Or when you pee your bed at six-,” his dad added.

  “That was also one time! And stop it! You’re embarrassing me!” I can't help but restrain myself and give him a short smirk, as he melts in embarrassment again. Wet your bed at six? Isnt that normal? They waved him off with the resigned blessing of people who knew resistance was futile.

  His mother even stepped forward, smiling kindly at me. “Jason-ssi, please take care of our Jinho. He has fans, but no common sense.”

  “Hey!” Jinho protested.I nodded solemnly. “Ma’am, I noticed. Boy ain't right in the head, no offence ma'am, sir.”

  His father pointed one stern flour-covered finger at us. “Just bring this brat home safe, no gang-related stuff either. If I ever find out the two of you ever deal with the ABB -”

  The implication if you don’t, we will find you hung politely but firmly in the air, and I whip yo ass even if you are an asian from another mother. Appa will beat my ass up with asian parenting style even if it ain't your kid. Alright, I got the message.

  His dad got up and said, “Guess I'm working the counter again” and just sighed as he went ahead into the battlefield.

  Jinho grabbed my sleeve and tugged me toward the side door. “Let’s go before they send me back to work.”

  And so we slipped out, leaving the comfort of warm bread and surprisingly chill parents, only to hear the shrieks from the front of the bakery swell like a tidal wave. The Noodle Oppa fanbase had not dispersed. Poor parents, having to deal with that now. Brave parents. Damn brave man. What a Chad, Mr Jinho Dad.

  I muttered, “You're lucky you’ve got nice parents”

  Jinho sighed like a man who’d lived this life far too often.“Yes,” he said. “I know.”

  When he finally straightened, hair mussed and apron still dusted with flour, he looked at me with that bright-eyed curiosity he always had when something new dangled in front of him.

  “So,” he said. “What now? Where are we going?”

  I jerked a thumb toward the alley’s opening. “My place.”

  He tilted his head. “Like… your actual place? You have a place here in Brockton Bay?” “No,” I said. “The other place.”

  His eyes widened. “The Trainyard? Wait..you weren’t kidding when you said you live there.”

  “Yep.”

  “The one with the big giant base that’s on Pho and had some crazy tinker living there with mechs roaming around and a two-foot turret with tinker tech. Saw it on Pho. That really, you Sunbae?”

  I rolled my eyes, “ Guess it ain't a secret anymor,e huh I need to check Pho again after this…just so damn busy these days..”

  “ Shibal. I thought you were small-time for real. No wonder you ain't afraid of Lung, and you’re inviting me inside? ” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Well, you’re part of the roster now. I need to test your abilities.”

  Jinho blinked again, just for extra measure..another blink. “Abilities?”

  “Yes.”

  He pointed at himself. “Bread abilities? You’re interested in that?”

  “Correct.”

  He stared. I stared back at him, not knowing that it was actually my fault that made him trigger. Probably still have an issue with that, wondering if he managed to help those girls? He probably thought the worst when everything was crashing around him, disappointing his girls like that.. Finally, he exhaled. “Jason… my power is that I can change bread. It’s not that impressive.”

  “That’s not it,” I said, already walking. “You can reshape wheat-based matter on a molecular level. That’s a big deal. You could weaponise carbs, at least that’s my theory. Won't know till we test it”

  Jinho jogged to catch up. “Why would I weaponise carbs, Sunbae?”

  “Because it’s hilarious,” I said. “Okay, serious time, it’s because I need to know the full range of what you can do. For example, if you can change the shape and constitution of the bread into anything else at all..”

  “That so huh…you think I can change bread to ..money or a rocket launcher” he repeated flatly. “ Was it that impressive? I just make flour rise faster with my powers. Make bread taste extra good.”

  I ignored that; his bread was really good, though. How much of that is his baking or his powers? Who knows. Time to find out.

  The Command Centre was right there, towering like a super industrial complex in size. The size alone makes people take a double-take. It seems like the place is walled off since I left, Walls reinforced with Neosteel. Nice.

  This was certainly new.

  The reinforced steel door scanned my face and slid open with a hiss. Jinho’s jaw dropped, just like the first time I brought anyone here.

  Rows of Mechs, humming Reactors, A giant building next to the command centre, that’s the barracks, of course, everything gleamed with that sleek, dangerous ambience that came with expensive military shit that screams Terran Supremacy. Just the way I like it.

  “Wow…neo jang na hanya..?” he whispered. “This is so cool. How the hell did you even build all this?”

  “By not following OSHA standards and just speeding up building the stuff with tinker tech”, I said. “Some of the equipment here is definitely not up to regulation,” as I walked forward into the main room with Jinho trailing behind, taking it all in.

  How else am I gonna tell him? How did I build all this with three mechs and within a whole week? Shit like this takes at least a year or two to build by ordinary standards, and even Agnes Court takes a week or two to build a whole skyscraper.

  In terms of infrastructure build, the more SCV I have working on a project, the less time I need to make it done. I was thinking about making use of some of the more reserved technology. Startcraft is in a weird mix of Super Technology, similar to Armoured Core and Realistic Technology like Battletech.

  A middle ground between real and advanced tech. The scale and technological uptick can be so modern, like nanotechnology, but then so ridiculously underpowered with Mechs like Goliath, with no lateral movement and booster technology that simply offer no mech strafing like Gundam or any Japanese mech counterpart.

  A build for later for me, Monica, and to talk shop and try to find a way. Maybe work with other tinkers to create this very flaw in mech design.

  The entrance to the Command Centre came into view. I pulled it open, revealing the stairwell descending into the ground. Jinho paused only long enough to swallow hard before following me up the metal steps, each footfall echoing behind us.

  The motion sensors caught us halfway, flooding the narrow descent with harsh white light. Jinho’s shadow stretched long across the concrete walls. He kept glancing around, trying to piece everything together, probably wondering how a simple bakery apprentice ended up being dragged toward something that felt like the set of a covert sci-fi thriller.

  Thank you, shard. I wonder what sort of shard it is.

  At the bottom area, the reinforced steel door scanned me, unlocking with the familiar hydraulic hiss. The Command Centre unfolded before us a cavernous chamber of servers, consoles, mechanical arms, and training SCV bays that act as its hangars was the first place we entered.,

  There are sealed equipment lockers for the SCV pilots, but since I didn't have any SCV and ran on SCV bots, none of them were used. There are half-finished projects scattered across reinforced tables, mostly from what happened when I was waiting for the prefab cardboard siege tank to be made,

  . It held some Ideas to turn an SCV into a proper fighting machine. Still working on the kinks.

  Jinho froze just past the threshold. The awe hit him immediately as his entire expression shifted from confusion to shock to the realisation that he was standing somewhere far beyond anything he’d expected today. He looked painfully out of place among all the advanced tech, still wearing his apron and smudged sleeves.

  I watched him walk forward, tentative at first, then drawn in by the soft glow of holoscreens and the rhythmic pulse of power conduits running along the ceiling. Wait till he meets Monica, I wonder if he will freak out.

  His gaze traced everything around the base, from the drone racks, the reinforced testing chamber, and the modular control stations humming quietly at the centre of the room. He touched nothing, hands tucked by his sides, careful and respectful in a way that made me oddly relieved.

  He didn’t understand why he was here yet, but that would come soon enough.

  For now, I simply observed him taking it all in, letting the moment settle.

  Boy needs to get that in his head that he’s a cape now. Sooner or later, he’s gonna wanna use his power, or if he already did, needs to know how to use it correctly. He stepped into the middle of the room, turning slowly, almost reverently, as though he were trying to memorise every detail before it slipped away.

  He was an unknown variable with abilities that could matter more than he realised because I dont have any database on this. None of my meta-knowledge would help me in this. I needed to understand him, measure the limits of what he could do, and find where his place fit within the controlled chaos of my operations.

  He snorted, stepping forward, eyes widening as he took it all in. Then he turned to me. “So what do you need me to do?”

  “Simple,” I said, gesturing toward the testing chamber. “We’re going to see exactly how far you can push your bread alteration abilities.”

  He squinted. “You’re making this sound way more dramatic than it is.”

  “No, you really should learn how to use it properly, because the alternative is just you being a tool for your powers. Parahumans will always want to use their powers. It’s a built-in mechanism.,” I said. “And also… someday, someone out there is going to try to kill you for your powers, gonna wanna use you. And on that day… I want you to protect yourself, to protect your mom and dad..”

  “Jason,” he said slowly, “I make bread. That speech is both incredibly awesome and stupid at the same time. You’re saying my bread powers are gonna consume me?”

  I told him about Shards.

  The alien passengers are buried somewhere in their biology, hitchhiking inside every parahuman. I explained how they acted like living engines, feeding data between themselves, nudging us, pushing us toward conflict and growth. Not malevolent. Not benevolent. Just driven. For data.

  Always testing, always learning, always wanting more input.

  He listened without interrupting, his expression tightening with each revelation. I could practically feel the moment he realised none of this fit the romantic, heroic image the media painted around capes.

  His fingers twitched at his sides, and his shoulders stiffened, the faint smell of flour and warm dough clinging to him like a reminder of the normal life he’d been living up until now.I explained how powers stagnate when ignored. How the Shard grew bored.

  Restless. Doing nothing with your abilities wasn’t just wasteful; it was harmful, according to most Shards. He needed to use his powers, refine them, and guide the growth instead of letting the Shard push him toward situations he wasn’t ready for.

  I kept my tone calm, steady, nothing dramatic. Just the truth. Cold, clinical, stripped of glamour. He absorbed every word, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. I could see panic blooming behind his silence. It’s not an easy subject to know the truth, or at least part of the version he knew.

  People reacted to this revelation in different ways. Fear. Denial. Anger. Excitement. For Jinho, it was something quieter, more personal. A subtle shift in the way he held himself, as though the ground beneath him had tilted, but he wasn’t ready to fall.

  I didn’t tell him everything, dont need to trigger certain things, of course, kept Zion out, kept broken triggers, and second triggers away from the conversation.

  He didn’t need every ugly detail yet. But he needed to know why he needed to use it. He needed to know that his powers weren’t harmless tricks, and ignoring them wouldn’t keep him safe.

  “Alright, let's test it”, he said.

  Went to the kitchen near the cafeteria to get some bread. Fully stocked bread automatically. Got afew loafs and stack 'em at the testing chamber. What’s a testing chamber?

  Think of it like a miniature gym where you can basically create any training program and test out anything in a localised area. Inside the testing chamber, I set down the bag of test materials Monica had produced, like plastic, rubber, cheap metals, ceramics, glass, and a few common alloys, to see if he could work on these materials or just bread.

  Jinho stared at it with the serious focus of a surgeon prepping for open-heart surgery.

  He exhaled sharply, rolled up his sleeves, and placed his hands on the loaf. That strange shimmer rippled along his arms, and the bread responded like it was listening, loosening its internal structure until it was no longer food but raw material.

  With a few careful gestures, he pulled it apart like malleable clay. The dough-like mass held together with impossible stability, defying physics in the way only powers could. He shaped it into a sphere. Then a simple block.

  I passed him a bar of plastic. He tried the same with metal. Then ceramics. Then glass. It’s not working.

  Every time, the transformation only worked when the base material came from bread, dough, or loose flour. Anything wheat-based. He could convert it into anything he had touched before perfectly, down to microscopic structure, but he needed wheat as the starter template, an odd medium if you ask me.

  I really hope the psyche evaluation and his being a baker don't account for this. A shard somewhere out there has a sense of humour. Never say it's impossible. There might be a shard that could think in humour in ones and zeroes. Who knows. His powers weren’t food-based. They were wheat-based. A bizarre limitation, but considering the nature of Shards, it’s probably nothing new. Weird alien cells are weird, I guess.

  I handed him the neosteel sample last.

  “Monica… analyse this “, I said.

  “Acknowledge Commander”, the holofeed came blaring from around the base.

  Monica has already started the analysis. Jinho seems a little startled “Huh? W-who’s that? Who’s Monica?”

  Monica’s footsteps echoed lightly across the polished floor. Too light, too even, too perfectly spaced for a human. Jinho was still staring at the neosteel he’d just created when her shadow stretched over the workbench.

  He turned.

  And promptly yelped.

  I didn’t blame him. Her new gynoid frame was… well, a little uncanny. Sleek black hair cut in a neat bob, warm brown eyes that tracked movement with mechanical precision, a posture so straight it would've made a drill sergeant weep.

  She looked like someone had taken my face sorta, softened it, made it feminine, and then smoothed out every imperfection until whatever was left belonged on the cover of a cutting-edge robotics magazine. She was wearing one of those medical softsuits with plasteel to cover the necessary part for protection. The perfect Korean K-Beauty like she came off an add from Shiseido.

  She inclined her head politely. “Apologies. I did not intend to startle you.”

  Jinho jumped again. “Oh? I didn't know someone lived here. Who’s she?”

  I stepped to his side before he overloaded. Guy already looked like he was about to go into a flour-induced cardiac event.

  “Right,” I said, gesturing to her. “Jinho, this is Monica. My adjutant. Assistant. Second brain. Take your pick.”

  Monica bowed with that flawless mechanical grace, even with that almost human synthetic skin. Her voice is still quite mechanical and synthesised, like one“It is a pleasure to meet you. I have been collecting data on your power usage for analysis.”

  Jinho stared, slack-jawed. “She..uhh..she looks like you. She's your sister or something?”

  “Hmm…Unfortunately, no.” I muttered. I wanted to ask why Monica even took my features and made a female version of me with longer hair. Is this how AI rebel against society? By mimicking their creator or something?

  “I based my current appearance template on available references to approximately align with my operator’s cultural background,” Monica said calmly. “The resemblance is statistically within an acceptable range.”

  “Statistically?” Jinho whispered, “Hey..Sunbae, why does she talk like that?” as if the word itself might bite him.

  Monica stepped forward, eyeing the slab of replicated neosteel in his hands. “The replication accuracy is 99.998%. This is significantly higher than Projected Threshold Theory predicted according to the template- Asian Ethnicity.”

  Jinho blinked. “She uhh.. she's gonna analyse me too?”

  “She analyses everything,” I said. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just kinda like her power.” And also she’s a an UED A.I., A rather cheeky one if you ask me. She can tell that I'm quite annoyed by this and gave me a little upturned smile.

  The audacity of this woman!-

  Monica! Why?! How?! They grow up so fast…rebelling already. Feels like I’m raising a teenager instead of a sister. Oh, wait, isnt that the same thing?

  “I analyse only as required for optimal support,” Monica added. “Including environmental hazards, power fluctuations, and unauthorised emotional spikes.”

  Jinho’s voice cracked. “Unauthorised what?”

  “She means panic attacks,” I said. “She’s trying to say you’re fine.”

  Monica nodded. “Your heart rate has returned to stable levels. Please continue your testing when ready. Additional samples have been prepared.”

  Jinho leaned toward me, whispering behind his hand even though Monica could hear a pin drop from three rooms away.

  “Jason… is your assistant… always like this?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And she lives here?”

  “Yup. Rent free too.”

  “And she watches everything?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He stared at her, Monica standing perfectly still except for the faint hum of her internal gyros “She’s not really human, isn’t she?”

  Monica raised an eyebrow. “Correction, I am aiming to be a proper human. It seems this model seems to be lacking if it cannot pass off as a human.” A little frown appeared on her face after giving her that feedback.

  I groaned, “Monica, we can hear your servos and the sound of your mechanical bits whirling. Maybe ya know…focus on that? Put some sound dampers or just fill in the empty bits so it won't be hollow? Minimise the sound dampening.”

  Jinho whispered, “She’s a robot?!”, totally shocked by the revelation.

  “She tries to pretend to be one, but she’s actually my A.I ” I sighed.

  Monica tilted her head. “Operator, should I prepare additional flour samples for further experimentation?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And maybe tone down the murder-scientist energy by about ten per cent, and really? Are you gonna use my face? Can’t you just, I dont know, slide some sliders around? It’s a little creepy looking at a beautiful version of me…ugh, is that how it feels to stare at a sibling? Fuck…I am not used to this.”

  She blinked with that slightly-too-smooth synthetic motion. “Understood. I shall make some adjustments to this unit. The next iteration won't suffer any feedback, I hope.” She smiled. A rather menacing smile, if I might add.

  Both Jinho and I took an involuntary step back.”I stand corrected…just dont smile.” I said.

  “Adjusting.” She relaxed into a more neutral expression.

  Jinho swallowed hard. “Jason… your adjutant is really weird.”

  “Buddy,” I said, clapping his shoulder, “you’re the one who just turned a baguette into military-grade alloy.”

  He looked down at the neosteel again, then slowly nodded.“…Okay. Fair. What’s this stuff anyway? He asked.

  “Oh, just probably the strongest metal available on earth right now..probably. Try warping the bread version of that steel you’re holding. See if you can mould it around into different shapes,” I said.

  I watched Jinho crouched over. One moment it was a simple flower; the next,it had taken the form of a perfect steel-like sword, balanced and precise as if forged by a master smith.

  He experimented furiously, stretching his limits. Small floating spears hovered in the air around him, suspended by some invisible tether of will, while a sleek, silvery armour wrapped around a mannequin on the table, every seam and joint aligned perfectly.

  The versatility of his power was astonishing. He could take the simplest wheat-based ingredient and turn it into almost any weapon or defensive implement he could imagine.

  But the effort was visible.

  His movements began to slow after each transformation, beads of sweat forming on his brow despite the air-conditioned room. His breathing deepened, and his hands trembled slightly as he tried to maintain control over multiple objects at once. Even with his incredible skill, the strain was real, the limits of his stamina a silent warning beneath the spectacular display of power.

  I leaned against the wall, careful not to disturb the floating spears, and made a mental note on how to improve his power retention. His potential was immense, but if he overused it in the field, he could burn out fast.

  Training and pacing would be crucial. Still, watching him work, his focus absolute, his imagination boundless, the patience of a baker, I supposed. Woke up at 4 am to make the dough, then as early as 7 am, open for business to serve the hungry crowd looking for a filling breakfast to jumpstart their day to work and their daily life.

  The breadboy of Brockton Bay was no longer just a baker. He was a craftsman of chaos, a parahuman who could turn the simplest ingredient into a weapon of astonishing precision.

  I wonder what else he could do?