When the sunlight came through the blinds and fell across Arthur in the cold morning air.
Arthur jolted awake, his back stiff, his neck aching from having slept hunched over the desk all night.
It wasn't a dream.
Beneath him, the chair creaked. Before him, the open notebook was covered, nearly every blank space filled, with dense handwriting and tangled lines.
The computer screen was still on, having drifted into sleep mode. Against the black background, his reflection stared back at him, the shadows under his eyes deep and dark.
Arthur rubbed his eyelids, which felt nearly glued shut, his mind still sluggish and uncertain.
Last night... or more precisely, in the early hours of this morning, his last clear memory was of drawing a crooked circle beside the passage labeled "Himeko, Major, First Appearance and the Hyperion's Intervention," and then the world had gone dark.
Was it... finished?
He stared at the document, almost not daring to believe it.
The prologue's narrative framework, from the everyday life at Senba Academy to the Honkai eruption, Kiana rescuing Mei, the encounter with Bronya, known as the Herrscher of Binding in her armored form, her first appearance, all the way to Himeko piloting the Hyperion down over Nagazora City to evacuate the survivors.
Every key story beat, every major line of dialogue, every scene transition, every layer of emotional groundwork, all of it had been crammed together, one after another, onto the page.
Beside that, in another notebook, were the early character profiles: Kiana Kaslana, naive and passionate, carrying within her the weight of the Kaslana legacy and the shadow of the Herrscher of the Void.
Raiden Mei, gentle yet unbreakable, a young lady of grace, harboring within her the power and anguish of the Third Herrscher, the Herrscher of Thunder.
Bronya Zaychik, cold and methodical, once an assassin, bearing the guilt of her past and searching for redemption and something she might call family.
Himeko Murata... key words for each personality.
There were arrow diagrams mapping out the relationships between characters, fragments of description capturing their visual impressions, and he had even sketched a few drawings, appalling in their execution yet somehow legible in their structure: the silhouette of the Hyperion from the side, the outline of some twisted Honkai beast.
Rough as they were, and as far as they still stood from anything resembling actual game content, this was undeniably the most primitive skeleton and soul of Honkai Impact 3rd's overture.
He had actually done it, alone, in a single night, building the entire core framework from scratch?
Working from memory, driven by that desperate, cornered intensity, and...
Arthur reached instinctively toward his inner pocket. Three cards pressed back against his fingers, solid and firm.
And that first, weightless act of trust.
Something rose up inside him that he couldn't quite name, lodging itself in his chest, warm and swelling.
"Creak."
The office door was pushed open quietly, interrupting Arthur's thoughts.
Dan Heng walked in, dressed as neatly as ever in his casual clothes, laptop bag in hand. When he saw Arthur already sitting there, his steps paused for just a moment.
His gaze moved across the obvious exhaustion of someone who hadn't slept all night, and he gave a neutral nod. "Morning."
"Morning, Dan Heng." Arthur's voice came out hoarse and rough.
Dan Heng asked nothing. He went straight to his own seat, set down his bag, and powered on his machine.
The sound of typing followed almost immediately, steady and even, as though the arguments and decisions of the night before had never happened. He had simply begun a new day's work, a little earlier than usual.
A few minutes later, the door opened again.
It was Bronya.
She carried a convenience store plastic bag, a few sandwiches and cartons of milk inside. She walked in, and her eyes paused briefly on Arthur's face.
Taking in the red threading through his eyes, her pale blue gaze blinked once. Then, without a word, she set a sandwich and a carton of milk on the corner of his paper-covered desk.
"Breakfast," she said, and nothing else.
"Thank you." Arthur took them. The sandwich was still warm.
Bronya didn't say anything more. She took her own portion and retreated to her corner. Soon came the familiar quiet sounds of her tearing open the wrapper, then soft chewing, then the click of her computer starting up.
Everything was still, unremarkably ordinary. The silence of the office filled with the small sounds of breakfast and the rhythm of Dan Heng's keyboard, and somehow the room felt less empty than before.
After a little while longer, the door was eased open just a crack, and Mei slipped inside.
She wore a pale knit top and a long skirt today, her dark hair falling loose and smooth over her shoulders, and in her hand she carried an elegant two-tiered insulated lunch box.
Her eyes swept the room quickly: Dan Heng deep in his code, Bronya eating her sandwich while sketching. Arthur, sitting in the middle of the organized chaos, holding a convenience store sandwich, looking back at her.
Mei's step faltered by the barest fraction, and then her expression settled back into its usual composure as she walked over to Arthur's desk. She set the insulated lunch box down gently beside his notebook.
"Morning."
Her voice was soft. "I made a little breakfast. Eat it while it's still hot."
The lid shifted open just a sliver, and the rich scent of congee and the warm smell of fried egg drifted out, instantly covering the stale air the night had left behind.
Arthur looked at the sandwich and the carefully prepared food sitting side by side on his desk, and his mouth opened, but he couldn't quite find the words.
Mei didn't seem to need any. She gave a small, unhurried nod and turned to go to her own seat, her movements graceful, as though she had done nothing more remarkable than something entirely expected.
She sat down and opened her sketchbook.
Arthur looked down. The sandwich in his left hand. The lunch box in his right. Then over at Bronya, quietly working through her sandwich in her corner. Then at Mei and Dan Heng, both already absorbed in their work.
Kiana's seat was still empty. Knowing her, she wouldn't surface until the sun was well overhead. As for March 7th, getting there by lunchtime would count as diligent.
But these three here, Dan Heng's quiet focus, Bronya's wordless support, Mei's thoughtful care, already formed something solid between them, a steady, reliable triangle.
It was enough.
Arthur finished the sandwich in a few bites, then opened Mei's lunch box without delay. Inside was a smooth, soft-cooked white congee, a golden fried egg, and a few light, fresh side dishes.
He ate quickly but carefully, the warmth spreading from his stomach through his whole body, clearing away the chill and stiffness that the sleepless night had left behind.
When he was done, he closed the lunch box with care and set it aside. Then Arthur drew a slow, deep breath, picked up the core notebook filled with his handwriting, and stood.
"Dan Heng, Bronya, Mei,"
his voice was still rough, but steadier now, "set down what you're working on for a moment."