Alexander spoke calmly, but fatigue lingered in his voice.

  "We can go," he said. "It's very late. Night. Wanda and Ida have prepared rooms for you. They're next to Molly's room. Please stay the night, if you can."

  He looked at Jo-Jo. Then at Lia. Then at me.

  "As I said, before you leave Phil's house, I'll need to place Serenitas on you. You will forget everything that has happened since the evening of December twenty-fourth."

  Lia turned pale.

  "Everything?.." she asked quietly.

  "Everything connected to this place," Alexander clarified. "Afterward, you'll feel slightly foggy. Your memories will differ from what truly happened. I don't want you driving home at night in that state. And one more thing — you'll need to be cleansed of scents. So the Gruns cannot track anything."

  He said it as if discussing an ordinary medical procedure.

  "Let's do it all tomorrow," he continued. "After the ceremony of Lactimol Bezos' transition to the Shining World."

  His voice softened.

  "Don't be sad. The ancient Lactimol suffered for a very long time. And his mother suffered with him. His transition is joy, not grief. He doesn't disappear. Only the body does. Lactimol is energy. Knowledge. Essence. He will pass into another world and continue living there."

  For a second his gaze drifted far away.

  "His mother, Salma... of course she misses him. How could she not?" he added more quietly. "After so many years she grew used to caring for him and his body. She asked... if possible... to help Phil care for the little ones. Her arm has just begun to grow back, so she'll be able to help. We'll speak with Phil about it later."

  Silence settled.

  "Let's have some tea," he finally said. "And then rest."

  Pi-Pu had long since vanished from sight... Maybe he was already asleep somewhere. He's just a baby. And it's deep into the night, I thought.

  We returned to where we had dined.

  The table was still festive, lights shimmering softly, the fir tree glowing with gold. The air smelled of sweet Fliiruses and something caramel-like.

  While the tea steeped — dark, with notes of citrus and honey — we exchanged glances.

  "Maybe... we open the presents?" Jo-Jo suggested carefully, as if afraid to violate some cosmic regulation.

  I nodded.

  Under the tree lay packages — ours, neatly moved here, and new, unfamiliar ones.

  A strange warmth filled me. Despite the womb, the spikes, the prophecies, the explosions and ancient beings — this was Christmas.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  A real one.

  We sat closer to the tree. The lights reflected softly in the glass ornaments and in our eyes. Paper rustled quietly in our hands.

  Jo-Jo unwrapped his gift carefully, as if afraid to damage something fragile. Lia smiled — her gaze still carried a trace of bewilderment from everything that had happened, but now it also held childlike anticipation.

  I handed Alexander the wrapped painting.

  He removed the paper, set it aside... and froze.

  He looked at the painting for a long time.

  A very long time.

  He didn't even breathe at first.

  Then slowly he lifted his eyes to me.

  That look held everything — surprise, gratitude, tenderness... and something else neither of us yet dared to name aloud.

  He stepped toward me, embraced me, lifted me lightly and spun me as if I weighed nothing. I laughed softly in surprise. He set me down, but didn't release me right away.

  "Thank you..." he said quietly. "This is... incredible."

  He gently took my hand and kissed it.

  I blushed so hard I think even the Fliiruses could have noticed.

  The painting for Lia and Jo-Jo impressed them too.

  "It's so beautiful! Amazing!" Lia said. "It's like it's alive."

  "We'll hang it in the living room," Jo-Jo nodded.

  As for Phil's gifts, Alexander said Wanda had already taken them to his zone. For a moment I imagined him seeing them later — already understanding everything.

  Then Alexander handed me a small velvet box.

  I opened it.

  Inside was a pendant.

  A flower — delicate, refined, as if carved from light. The petals were set with tiny stones shimmering with a soft bluish-pink glow. At the center — a tiny luminous crystal, like a drop of morning dew.

  "It's a Fliirus," he said quietly. "A real one — just in another form."

  I couldn't look away.

  "It's so beautiful..." I whispered.

  "It protects," he replied. "And reminds... of me."

  "Thank you so much," I said, happy and embarrassed.

  He looked at me in a way that made my heart skip again.

  For Jo-Jo and Lia, he gave a large blanket — soft, glowing faintly from within. Threads of Fliirus and other plants were woven into intricate patterns.

  "It will warm, protect, and calm," Alexander said. "And keep away unnecessary dreams."

  Lia ran her hand across it.

  "It's... vibrating," she whispered.

  Bridget received a smaller one. She immediately lay down on it and sighed contentedly.

  Lia handed me a neatly wrapped bundle.

  "This is from us," she said gently.

  I unwrapped it.

  Inside was a cozy home set — a warm sweater with a winter pattern, soft pants, and socks with neat snowflakes and little deer. The fabric felt dense and tender, like an embrace.

  "So you'll stay warm," Lia said.

  I was touched.

  "It's perfect," I said honestly. "Thank you."

  I was already imagining wearing it while drinking cappuccino.

  Then Jo-Jo solemnly handed Alexander his gift.

  "This one's for you, chef," he grinned.

  Alexander raised his brows in surprise.

  Inside was a chef's apron — original, with a funny inscription and neat embroidery — and a tall white hat.

  "We thought you were the one cooking everything... and knitting!" Lia laughed.

  I smiled, remembering the "show for humans."

  Alexander froze for a second, then theatrically put on the apron and adjusted the hat.

  "Well," he said seriously, "there are a few things I actually can cook."

  He looked at me.

  "For example, tea from Fliirus pollen. And perhaps... a few other things."

  There was something playful and warm in his voice. I felt myself blush again.

  Jo-Jo laughed.

  Then Lia, as if remembering something important, said:

  "Wait... there are more gifts. These are from Phil."

  She handed me a small box tied with a silver ribbon.

  I opened it carefully.

  Inside was a glass jar — pale blue with a pearlescent sheen. The cream inside glowed softly, as if holding a tiny moon.

  I froze.

  There was a note inside.

  This is a special cream I created for you.

  Fliirus pollen cream.

  It smooths, restores, calms. And even heals wounds.

  Merry Christmas!

  F.

  I looked up.

  I remembered him talking about his experiments with pollen. Back then it had sounded like an odd hobby. Now it was science, magic, and care all at once.

  "He worked very hard on it," Alexander said quietly. "He said it was the best sample."

  I gently unscrewed the lid.

  The scent was incredible — delicate, floral, yet deep like an evening garden. It carried strength. And tenderness.

  "And that's not all," Lia said, reaching under the tree again.

  They pulled out a large woven basket.

  Inside were neat bottles in different shades — from soft green to lilac-blue. Each labeled.

  "Shampoos," Lia laughed lightly. "For volume, shine, restoration... and this one — with enhanced protection."

  "With Fliirus pollen," Jo-Jo added.

  Then Lia handed Alexander a dark, strict-looking box.

  "This is for you."

  He opened it.

  Inside was a bottle of perfume.

  Deep, rich color. Almost black with golden undertones.

  Alexander opened it carefully. Almost ceremonially.

  He placed a drop on his wrist. Rubbed it. Brought it to his face.

  Froze.

  His eyes half-closed.

  The scent was... breathtaking.

  Deep. Warm. Masculine — but not heavy. Something woody, like freshly cut timber in a winter forest. Something faintly spicy. And deep within — a cold, pure note like the air before snowfall.

  And all of it carried that subtle, living spark of Fliirus pollen.

  Lia gasped.

  "It's... absolutely incredible."

  Jo-Jo inhaled and let out a respectful whistle.

  We sat among gifts, soft light, the scent of tea and Fliiruses.

  Around us, unimaginable magical life continued.

  But here — it was simply a quiet Christmas.

  And in that absurd, impossible place, it suddenly became the most real Christmas I had ever had.

  And silently I said:

  Merry Christmas, Phil. Merry Christmas, little Lactimols. I can't wait to meet you.