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Unofficial first chapter, expect a dash of trauma and slice of life from our favorite stressed, depressed, and under duress boy
Chapter 2: The Day After the World (almost) ended
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In Dormant, everyone was happy, after all the King was frozen in time, and whatever that event after was is over, and the Saviors were sleeping in the Clocktower let’s check on them. In the morning, the party hears the faint Pyoo Pyoo of the birds and the Fighter, Isabeau is first to wake up.
Isabeau:”Ugh. This is a bad hangover, I’m going back to bed.”
Siffrin:”come on, Isa, Bonbon’s makings breakfast, it’s going to be EGG-celent.😀”
Isabeau:”HA! Ow, laughing hurts.
As the pair walk down to the kitchen they see Odile and Mirabelle still sleeping as Bonnie makes pancakes with extra extra EXTRA sugar, but this goes poorly and burns the pancakes and the sugar, as the smell of burnt sugar wafts through the air Siffrin’s face grimaced as he starts to shake.
Bonnie:”Frin? You good?
Sifrin didn’t answer at first. His breath hitched—just once—but the others caught it.
The scent hit stronger this time.
Burnt sugar.
Bonnie blinked. “Wait—oh crab.” They fumbled to turn off the burner, grabbing the pan with a towel and opening the window with their elbow.
Sifrin’s hands had clenched into fists at his sides. He wasn’t shaking from anger. Not exactly. It was more like… recoil. Like someone had reached into his spine and tugged on an invisible string that read start again.
Isabeau stepped closer, his hangover momentarily forgotten.
“Sif,” he said, voice gentle. “It’s not that. You’re not looping. It’s just Bonnie’s sugar apocalypse.”
“I didn’t mean to—!” Bonnie’s eyes were wide with guilt. “I just wanted it to taste like victory!”
Sifrin let out a breath. Slow. Controlled. But not steady.
“I know,” he said quietly. “It’s okay. Just… give me a second.”
The room stayed still. Even the piyou piyou birds outside seemed to hush for a moment.
Mirabelle stirred on the couch, sitting up with sleepy eyes and bed-head that defied gravity. “What’s going on?”
“Burnt sugar,” Odile answered without looking up from her pillow. “He’s having a moment.”
Mirabelle’s eyes softened immediately.
“Oh. Frin…”
She got up, crossed the room, and gently touched his arm.
Sifrin flinched—but didn’t pull away.
“Still here,” he murmured.
“Still here,” Mirabelle repeated.
“Still not looped,” Isabeau added.
Bonnie, quietly: “Still sorry…”
Sifrin turned to them with a shaky smile. “Don’t be. Not your fault sugar has become my olfactory death omen.”
He tried to joke. It almost worked.
Bonnie still looked uncertain. “Do you want me to make toast instead?”
“Do you know how to make toast without burning it?”
“…no.”
“Perfect,” Sifrin said. “Let’s do that.”
⸻
Later, when breakfast was less threatening, and everyone had gathered around the table with tea and only-slightly-crispy pancakes, Isabeau tossed a grape across the table at Sifrin’s head.
Sifrin blinked. “What was that for?”
“Checking if you were still twitchy,” Isabeau said. “You didn’t flinch. Progress.”
Bonnie: “Are we measuring mental health in grapes now?”
Odile: “It’s more accurate than some methods.”
Sifrin chuckled—and this time, it stuck. The weight eased just a bit.
And somewhere, far away from the Clocktower and the sugar smoke and the laughter, the world continued to not end.
Chapter 3: Supply Run
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The sun had climbed higher by the time Mirabelle rejoined the group. She was carrying a basket of linens and smiling that soft Mirabelle smile that made everyone feel like the world hadn’t nearly ended a few days ago.
Bonnie immediately ran over. “Where were you?”
“Helping the head housemaiden with the laundry,” she said, brushing a stray thread from her skirt. “She did let us crash in her tower without warning. I thought it was the least I could do.”
“You missed breakfast,” Isabeau said dramatically. “It had trauma and toast.”
“I burned the sugar!” Bonnie added proudly.
Mirabelle blinked. “…Should I be concerned?”
“Yes,” Odile replied, without looking up from her book.
Sifrin didn’t say much. He smiled when Mirabelle arrived, nodded along to the chatter, but his eyes were distant. Like they were somewhere else entirely.
Later, while the others were sorting out what supplies they’d need for their “please-don’t-let-this-count-as-kidnapping” trip to Bonnie’s sister’s house, Mirabelle found Sifrin sitting behind the clock tower.
Alone.
He was kneeling in the dirt, surrounded by tiny scraps of cloth, wire, and wood shavings. In his hands, he held a tiny statue—robes, flowing sleeves, arms extended in welcome.
The Change God.
Except… the face was blank.
No eyes. No mouth. No anything.
“…I thought you didn’t make statues,” Mirabelle said gently.
Sifrin jumped slightly, then slouched. “I didn’t know anyone was awake enough to notice.”
“I notice everything,” she said, sitting down beside him.
They sat in silence for a while.
“Used to be a habit,” he finally said. “Every time I looped and got mad enough to start yelling at the sky, I’d make one. Just to see if it’d help.”
Mirabelle looked down at the statue. “That one doesn’t have a face.”
“None of them do.”
“Why?”
Sifrin ran a thumb across the smooth, featureless head. “Because he didn’t see me. I figured I’d return the favor.”
She didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Just let him talk.
“I made one that could move once,” he added. “Crafted it to walk. It fell into a ravine.”
Mirabelle nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a good fall. Dramatic. Deserved a slow clap.”
He tossed the statue in his hands once, twice—then smashed it against the wall.
Shards scattered in the grass.
Mirabelle didn’t flinch.
Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of wrapped candy. She held it out.
Sifrin blinked. “…What’s this for?”
“Balance,” she said. “Something sweet to follow something bitter.”
He stared at her. Then took the candy.
“Thanks,” he said. “But you know, sugar and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.”
Mirabelle smiled. “Maybe it’s time to start over.
Chapter 4: Divine Drama, Trama, and Karma
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The rooftop of the Dormont clock tower was quiet.
That kind of *too quiet* that only happened when Bonnie was asleep and Isabeau hadn’t gotten his hands on a second cup of tea. Below, the town buzzed with gentle life. Somewhere, someone was burning toast. Somewhere else, someone was playing an out-of-tune fiddle. But up here?
Just wind. Just silence.
Just Sifrin.
He sat on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling off, staring at the sky like it might give him answers. Spoiler: it never did. He wasn’t expecting anything dramatic to happen. And that’s *exactly* when something dramatic happened.
A sharp tingle crawled up his spine. His vision blurred. And then—
Change God: "HI HI HI!!! GUESS WHOOOO\~ it's MEEEEEE!!! your FAVORITE god of chaaaaaaaaaange!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧"*\*
Sifrin let out a groan so deep it felt like it came from his bones.
Sifrin: “Oh no. Not you. Not today."
Change God: "awwwww come oooon don’t be like that! i’m just dropping in to say CONGRATULATIONS!!! 🎉 the king’s frozen, the loops are broken, and youuuuuu—"
Sifrin“—got emotionally blended into a time smoothie?”
Change God: "—got to GROW!! ✨"
Sifrin buried his face in his hands.
Sifrin: “This is why I made your statue faceless.”
Change God: "yeah i saw that 😞 kinda rude ngl. but you’ve always been a bit spicy! i like that about you~"
Sifrin: “You emotionally torched me for entertainment. You laughed. You fought me. You told me I was a waste of change.”
Change God: "whoa whoa whoa slow your monochrome roll there buddy 😬 i never said you were a waste."
Sifrin: “You literally said I was doing it wrong.”
Change God: "well yeah, the whole ‘looping forever to avoid loss’ thing? kind of the opposite of embracing change 🤷 but like, i get it! feelings are hard!!"
Sifrin stared out at the horizon, jaw clenched.
Sifrin: “You know I still remember. Everything. Every reset. Every death. Every day of trying to figure out how to win. You were there. You could’ve helped.”
Change God: "buuuuut then you wouldn’t have learned anything!! and hey—look at you now! you’ve grown!"
Sifrin: “I nearly broke.”
Change God: "BUT YOU DIDN’T~!! (◕‿◕✿)
There was a long, brittle pause.
Sifrin inhaled slowly through his nose and exhaled like a kettle building up to a whistle.
Sifrin: “You’re lazy.”
Change God: "i like to say i’m non-interventionist."
Sifrin: “You let me suffer for character development.”
Change God: "and look how developed you are now! you’re like… a metaphor! 😄"
Sifrin slumped back onto the roof, arms splayed.
Sifrin: “Why are you even here?”
Change God: "just checking in! making sure you’re not planning on doing something silly, like trying to loop again. alsoooo… wanted to say: your party? adorable. especially Mirabelle. her little statue of me is soooo cute!!! 💖 i love her!!!"
Sifrin sat back up.
Sifrin: “You remember what you said to her, right? That her way of changing wasn’t ‘big enough’? You crushed her.”
Change God: "and now she’s stronger for it! 💪💫"
Sifrin: “You’re a problem.”
Change God: "and you’re delightful! anyway, gotta skedaddle! remember: change is the only constant! even if i’m not!"
Sifrin reached out instinctively as the air shimmered—like grabbing for a dream just before it fades.
Too late.
He blinked. The world returned to normal.
Piyou-piyou birds chirped in the distance. A gentle wind tugged at his hair. Down below, someone shouted “Who burned the tea kettle again!?” and Bonnie’s voice answered, “Crab, it wasn’t me this time!”
He rubbed his face with both hands. Sat there in silence.
Then:
Sifrin: “…Lazy god.”
A pause.
Then a sigh.
Then a mutter:
Sifrin: “I really should’ve put a face on that statue just so I could slap it.”