The house was asleep.
Only the hum of distant generators and the whisper of wind against the glass filled the silence.Outside, the moonlight painted silver arcs across the Capsule Corp domes. Inside, everything was still — too still.
Buu couldn't sleep.
He stood on the inner veranda, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, watching it swirl lazily as if it had its own rhythm.
"Can't sleep either?"
The voice floated softly down the hall, light as a melody.
Mrs. Brief appeared, wearing a cream robe that shimmered under the moonlight. Her hair was a little undone.
"Not really," Buu replied without turning. "Too quiet."
She laughed softly. "That's a rare complaint around here."
He finally looked over his shoulder — calm, unreadable, eyes like still water.
"Silence is honest," he said. "People aren't."
Mrs. Brief tilted her head, amused. "Oh, that's a dangerous thought for this late at night. Maybe you need tea to go with it?"
"Only if you make it," Buu said.
A faint blush rose to her cheeks, though she smiled easily. "You know, you're far more charming than Bulma made you sound."
He raised a brow. "And what did she say?"
"Oh, that you're mysterious, maybe dangerous… and that I should be careful not to fall for that voice of yours."
"She's right," he said, stepping closer. "But people enjoy being fooled… if the lie feels good enough."
Mrs. Brief gave a small, musical laugh. "And what kind of lie would you offer, exactly?"
"Just a moment," Buu said. "This one."
He stopped near her — close enough for his shadow to blend with hers, but never touching. For a heartbeat, time stilled. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
She looked up at him, smile lingering though her voice softened."You know… there's something different about you. Can't quite place it."
Buu's lips curved faintly. "Is that a good thing?"
"That depends," she said, tilting her head just slightly. "Are you planning to make it dangerous?"
He chuckled — low, smooth, the kind of sound that lingered longer than it should have."Only if you ask nicely."
Her laugh was soft but real this time. "You really do have a way with words, don't you?"
"I prefer actions," he murmured, stepping close enough for the warmth between them to shift the air.
Mrs. Brief's breath caught for just a moment — then she smiled again, composure returning. "You're trouble."
"Not tonight," he replied, watching her as she turned toward the hallway. "Tonight I'm just a guest enjoying good company."
Before she disappeared around the corner, she looked back one last time.
"Goodnight, dear."
"Goodnight," he said.
He stayed there long after she was gone, the moonlight fading across his face like a memory that refused to settle.
In the morning, the smell of coffee drifted through the house.
Bulma stumbled into the kitchen, hair a mess, wearing the universal expression of someone who'd been up too late.
Mai was already there, alert as ever, while Mrs. Brief hummed cheerfully by the stove, her robe replaced with a sunny dress.
"Morning, everyone!" she sang. "I hope you slept well. Buu's already up — I saw him in the garden a while ago."
Bulma froze halfway to the coffee machine. "Doing what exactly?"
"Oh, just watching the sunrise. We talked a little. He's such a sweet man."
Mai lifted a brow. "Sweet?"
Bulma ignored her, eye twitching slightly. "Talked… how long?"
Mrs. Brief giggled. "Oh, don't be silly, dear. Nothing scandalous! But I must say, that boy has presence."
Bulma groaned and sank into a chair. "Of course he does."
Outside, through the kitchen window, Buu stood quietly in the garden, the early light catching the faint pink gleam in his eyes.
For just a second, he smiled — barely there, but real.