Stillness After the Storm (Filler Story)

The city had long quieted by the time sunlight crept through the sheer curtains.

A pale beam fell across the room's wooden floor, painting the space in golds and dust motes. Outside the window, Kirim City yawned awake—distant voices, wheels over cobblestones, and the chirp of messenger Whisps flying overhead.

Inside, Jimmy lay still.

Not asleep. Just… still.

Wrapped in a thin sheet, he stared toward the ceiling, eyes hidden beneath the cloth that never left him. Beside him, Luna lay curled like a guardian, her breath steady, her energy calm.

No sounds between them. Just the language of peace.

Jimmy slowly sat up, fingers brushing over the sheets and the bronze watch still lying near his pillow—its glow now fully gone, like it had never ticked to begin with.

His body felt light. But his chest—heavy.

He stood and moved to the window.

The view opened to the riverbank and the volcano range beyond it. Mist curled from the earth like whispers, wrapping the mountains in a soft veil.

Luna joined him quietly, her eyes reflecting the soft gold of the morning.

Jimmy didn't need to speak. His silence was filled with feeling.

He touched her head gently.

A new day had begun.

...................

As Jimmy sat by the window, letting the warmth of the morning settle into his skin, a whisper stirred in his chest—a faint glow of connection, barely there, yet unmistakable. Today was the date. The one etched not in ink or calendar but deep in memory and sensation. He didn't know if it would lead to a reunion or just the echo of a lost bond, but something told him: tonight meant something.

The Rock and Roll Auction, famed across the region, would begin at 10 AM. He glanced at the clock. 7:30.

He moved with quiet purpose, finishing his morning rituals, brushing Luna's mane, checking his Codex again, and making sure all his essentials were ready. Then he rang for room service.

The waiter came swiftly, balancing a tray and a nervous expression. "Sir, your breakfast," he said, placing the dishes down. Then, more hesitantly, he added, "Also… Sir Anderson has requested to meet you in his suite."

Jimmy paused for just a moment, then shook his head gently. "Tell him… I'm not interested."

The words landed quietly—but with weight.

The waiter froze, surprised. His thoughts almost slipped aloud: Everyone wants to meet the King… and this boy just refused?

He gave a slow nod, bowing politely, but his eyes lingered a little longer, as if trying to figure Jimmy out.

By the time the door shut again, Jimmy had already turned back to the light, watching it fall across Luna's face.

.....................

By the time the last bite of breakfast cooled on his plate, Jimmy had made up his mind.

He took out his communicator and signed a short message: "Come by 8:30. We leave for the auction."

His driver responded instantly with a thumbs-up.

Jimmy packed swiftly—just the essentials. Luna, still resting quietly, stirred as he placed her back in the Mind's Garden. The weight in Jimmy's chest hadn't gone away. If anything, it had deepened. Tonight felt inevitable.

He zipped up the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped into the elevator.

Downstairs, the lobby buzzed with quiet admiration. Several guests were gathered around a familiar figure—Anderson, the King, laughing, shaking hands, towering over the others in his sleek coat and commanding presence. Flashbulbs went off. Autographs were scribbled. He was magnetic.

Jimmy didn't stop.

He walked past the velvet ropes and through the lobby's glass doors, unnoticed by most. A shadow moving through light.

Outside, his driver was already waiting by the car, standing by the open door with his cap pressed respectfully to his chest.

Jimmy nodded once and stepped inside the car.

"Let's go," he signed. "If the auction has started, we can't miss a second."

And the door closed behind him, sealing off the noise of the hotel—the lights, the people, the King himself.

The engine purred to life.