It was an exciting day for locals and visitors alike.
With the long-awaited competition—fueled by years of rivalry and an unholy amount of trash-talking—finally taking place, ISEC was bustling to a degree that could only be described as chaotic enthusiasm.
Inside DG’s booth, people were watching with intense interest despite not truly understanding what the hell the participants were actually doing. Outside wasn’t that much different.
Only, those outside had stopped and dropped everything they were doing for a completely different reason.
Snacks.
After several days of the Expo running at full capacity, people were already in permanent awe of snacks. If anything, the concept of such a food classification had beco so popular that it was impossible not to hear the word ntioned every few seconds in a live setting.
Snack this.
Snack that.
Have you tried the snacks?
Now with DG’s daily offerings, it was as if the people of the Empire had learned dozens of new life lessons and raised their standard of living exponentially simply by knowing that such things existed.
However, much to their surprise, they still had so much more to learn.
Like popcorn.
Crunchy, buttery, airy popcorn.
Even before the competition properly began, there ca a sharp, single sound that turned every head in the vicinity.
Pop!
"?!"
Then another followed, and another, until the rhythm built into a rapid series of explosive bursts that echoed strangely against the surrounding structures.
Pop!
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!
The noise was so unusual that people montarily panicked, glancing around as though so unstable device had malfunctioned. But their alarm faded the mont they caught sight of the large transparent machine stationed near DG’s free sample booth.
Inside it, tiny golden buds trembled violently.
Then they exploded.
Not in fire.
But in bloom.
Small clouds burst open and multiplied rapidly, filling the chamber with fluffy white shapes that looked suspiciously like edible cumulonimbus.
There were so many speculations.
Was it a chemical reaction?
A new beast product?
A foam-based material demonstration?
For a brief second, the unusual popping sounds made the crowd uneasy.
Then the scent of lted butter drifted outward.
Warm.
Rich.
Irresistible.
Understanding dawned faster than lightning.
"!!!"
Whatever that was—
They had to have it.
However, wanting it as desperately as one wanted air didn’t an they’d actually get it. With a line that stretched far beyond reasonable expectations and an unmistakable crowd forming by the second, how were they even supposed to get close?
Those at the back stared at the distance between themselves and the machine with visible despair. So began calculating probabilities. Others considered abandoning dignity entirely.
The deeply distressed custors lanted their fates, especially those who had hesitated earlier and were now paying the price for it.
But just as hopelessness began to settle in, movent caught their attention.
From DG’s free sample stall erged several drones in a shape no one had seen before.
Their fras were broader, their tops fitted with clear compartnts that resembled miniature versions of the popping machine itself.
More importantly, mounted on each drone were boxes filled with the sa fluffy white clouds.
And they were still popping!
Just what was happening?!
Before the crowd could devolve into organized chaos, an announcent rang out across the plaza.
In a tone that sounded suspiciously like a station broadcast, calm and clear, the voice declared:
"In light of the Polishing Competition and in cooperation with the cha Manufacturing Association, we invite everyone to tune in while enjoying refreshnts on the house."
A brief pause.
"May you have a pleasant and enjoyable evening, and kindly watch out for our diligent service drones."
There was half a second of stunned silence.
Then—
The hall exploded into one hell of a giant cheer.
__
The excitent was palpable throughout the hall as multiple holographic monitors showcased the competition from every possible angle. Close-ups of polished components, slow-motion replays of finishing touches, and real-ti reaction feeds floated above the crowd, bathing the spectators in shifting light.
And with more and more people crying in joy over receiving what were now officially called "tubs of popcorn," the fortunate people of the Empire were suddenly learning the optimal way to enjoy exciting shows.
It didn’t matter if they were just standing outside or sitting perfectly well inside. Provided they had popcorn, they were set.
Apparently, life was so much better with butter and crunch.
Oh, and dramatic gasps between bites.
Of course, the people stuck watching at ho were rolling on the floor in distress. Comnt sections were flooded with lantations about missed opportunities and broken hearts, because how was anyone supposed to enjoy such a spectacle without popcorn in hand?
It was inevitable, really. There was no possible way not to envy those currently munching away inside the Expo Hall.
But unbeknownst to everyone enjoying or lanting today’s grand show, a small group of people was simply snickering at their fortune.
How could they be so lucky as to have so many people gathered today of all days?
At this rate, they wouldn’t even need to think too hard about when to press the trigger. Everywhere they looked just so happened to be filled with bodies, laughter, warmth, and distraction.
It was as if a significant portion of their work had already been done for them.
Amidst the controlled chaos, one voice sounded entirely ordinary.
"I can see the flowers from here."
To anyone else, it was just another comnt about the decorative arrangents lining the walkway of DG’s booth.
But to those listening closely, it ant sothing else entirely.
With hands kept as steady as possible, a halfling adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag and pretended to turn his head away while soone behind him responded calmly, "I heard it’s best to let them bloom first. I suggest we wait a bit. It’d be better that way."
"I see," the halfling answered under his breath, eyes fixed forward. "Then you can just inform when it’s best to ask for availability."
He understood perfectly.
Let them et.
Let them rejoice.
Let them bloom.
Not only would it produce a better outco, but maybe it would also lessen the guilt of accepting such a job. Then again, it wasn’t like he needed to do anything major.
All he had to do was press a button while standing close enough.
And he was close enough, alright.
Close enough to see the entrance open.
A perfect distance to watch as an excited Elven Princess, small and radiant in her regal dress, practically ran toward the figure waiting for her.
Prince Elior stood composed despite the crowd, which only gave them a little clearing, given the circumstances. Like this, he was very much like their Crown Prince, who resembled him in every way other than loyalty to their race.
The halfling watched as more spectators stepped aside while craning their necks to catch a better look.
The Princess’s maid hurried after her, whispering warnings that went entirely ignored as the child darted ahead with unrestrained enthusiasm.
At the last second, as if rembering herself, Princess Marin skidded to a halt and perford the neatest little curtsy she could manage.
Then she broke form entirely and launched herself forward.
Prince Elior laughed softly as he caught her in his arms with practiced ease, lifting her slightly before settling her securely against him.
It was a striking scene.
A small Princess clinging to her brother as though the world were nothing but celebration.
Even those munching on popcorn paused mid-chew, so cooing openly at the display. A few sighed about sibling affection while butter-slick fingers hovered near their mouths.
That was most definitely a hug.
Sothing that just days ago wouldn’t have been allowed.
The halfling watched, and for a fleeting second, his chest tightened for reasons unrelated to the device resting near his hand.
He hadn’t gotten that kind of goodbye.
None of them had.
He swallowed the thought. At this point, couldn’t he be considered generous?
Sure enough, this was ironic.
And at the sa ti, absolutely fitting.
Now, for all their revenge to finally take place, they only needed one more piece to fall into position.
Ah.
And what do you know?
This ti, it ca in the form of Chief-of-Staff Killian Nox.
The Imperial politician moved forward with composed urgency, stepping toward the Elven Royalty and their entourage as protocol demanded. His presence commanded subtle shifts in the crowd, security adjusting their positions as he approached.
The halfling’s heartbeat began to race.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Killian reached the base of a shallow platform step and extended a hand toward the young Princess, who had just been set down by her brother.
"Careful," he said smoothly, helping her up the slight elevation with practiced grace.
For a brief second, everyone’s attention aligned on that small, harmless gesture.
But it wasn’t just the crowd that was fixated on it.
For it was the perfect mont.
The halfling took a deep breath.
And finally pressed.
"!!!"
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