Dick pushed all the change he got back toward the cashier as a tip.
The gesture was so natural it didn’t seem to require any explanation. His expression didn’t even shift.
The decisiveness of it made the whole thing feel like a long-established habit.
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Claire stood off to the side, watching.
And quietly thought to herself—
That actually makes sense.
After all, it’s not like they could go out fighting crime while the coins in their pockets clinked and jingled the whole time, basically adding their own ridiculous sound effects to every entrance.
That would be… unbelievably stupid.
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By the time the three of them returned to the shop with their groceries, the night had deepened.
As soon as the lights came on, the once-quiet space immediately filled with a sense of lived-in warmth.
Claire handled dinner first.
She put the sandwich bread in to heat, letting the slightly hardened crust return to a crisp texture.
Then she quickly made a salad—chopping whatever could be chopped, tossing it together without fuss—and squeezed some juice.
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The whole process was smooth and practiced.
No hesitation at all.
As if, in the middle of all this chaos, she could at least keep eating firmly under control.
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So the three of them sat down and had dinner first.
The aroma of the warmed bread spread quickly through the room. Paired with a simple salad and juice, it wasn’t quite the pizza they had originally planned—but it was enough to give this strange night a temporary sense of normalcy.
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After they finished eating, the two brothers moved immediately—like transitioning into the next mission.
They turned and went straight into the kitchen, fully committing.
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Claire instinctively stepped forward at first, ready to help—at the very least to tell them where things were, or which tools worked best.
But the moment she got close, she was firmly stopped.
Not a polite “it’s okay.”
But a very specific, oddly stubborn kind of refusal—
the birthday person is not allowed to do anything today.
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So in the end, she could only stand off to the side, hands empty, as if she had suddenly lost her job.
The workspace she usually used to make bagels every day had, for once, been taken over for something else.
Flour.
Mixing bowls.
The cake mix.
Measuring cups.
And a series of operations that looked both serious—and faintly concerning—spread across the counter.
The whole scene was somehow even more chaotic than when she made bread.
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Claire stood there watching them.
At first, she was just casually observing—watching Dick and Jason examine the instructions, debating whether they should actually follow them exactly.
But gradually—
her thoughts began to drift.
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She finally realized what she had been unconsciously ignoring all along—
she had forgotten her own birthday.
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The more she thought about it, the more wrong it felt.
Wrong enough to be unsettling.
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Logically, that shouldn’t happen.
Not in this day and age.
A birthday doesn’t pass quietly anymore.
Someone would send a message.
Her inbox would be flooded with promotional emails.
Her credit card company might even send one of those overly decorative, standardized greeting cards.
Layer after layer of reminders—
all pointing back to the same thing: Today is your day.
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And yet—
she hadn’t thought about it at all.
Not once.
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Until Jason asked.
And only then—
it was like someone had tapped her sharply from behind,
forcing the memory back into place.
She couldn’t help but start making excuses for herself in her own mind.
Maybe—
it was because the only thing she remembered today was Easter.
After all, this year her birthday happened to fall on Easter. That kind of overlap was rare, so it would make sense that she paid more attention to the holiday itself, rather than her own birthday.
When she thought about it that way—
it almost made sense.
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But the moment that explanation formed, she rejected it herself.
Because the truly strange part had never just been forgetting her birthday.
It was the fact that her birthday—
was the day caught in a loop.
That coincidence alone was far too precise.
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And then her thoughts shifted.
Slipped in another direction entirely.
If today kept repeating—
didn’t that mean she was celebrating her birthday every single day?
Every day was her birthday.
It sounded, at first, like some kind of absurd blessing.
But if every day was her birthday—
didn’t that also mean that no day was really her birthday?
Because once something loses its uniqueness—
it fades into the background.
Until, eventually—it becomes nothing at all.
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The thought made her go still.
Then another idea surfaced—
sharper, more unsettling—
flashing through her mind like lightning.
Could it be…
Was the repetition of this day—
connected to her birthday?
Or was it not just her birthday, but also—
resurrection—
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Her thoughts hadn’t yet fully grasped the answer—when a voice suddenly broke through, pulling her back before the connection could form.
“Claire.”
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She blinked.
Like she had been called back from somewhere far away.
By the time her focus returned, she realized Dick was standing in front of the oven, looking at her, holding a baking tray that he clearly didn’t know what to do with.
He asked how to preheat the oven.
His tone was completely natural—
as if he simply needed a bit of ordinary kitchen help.
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Claire blinked.
As if she hadn’t fully pulled herself out of those thoughts yet—but her body moved first.
She walked over, crouched down, and adjusted the oven dials. Her fingers turned them to the correct temperature and setting with practiced ease. The motion was clean, fluid—like her muscles knew what to do better than her mind did.
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While she was bent down, focusing on the oven—
Dick lifted his gaze.
And met Robin’s eyes across the space.
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The glance was brief.
But unmistakable.
Both of them caught something—something Claire herself hadn’t noticed at all.
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It wasn’t just distraction.
Not the kind of blankness that comes from thinking.
It was something deeper.
Something that made them uneasy.
Jason didn’t speak.
Neither did Dick.
But the same concern surfaced in both their eyes.
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Claire didn’t seem to realize it.
But just moments ago—
when she had been standing there, lost in thought—
those brown eyes of hers
had been filled with sorrow.
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The three of them stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the cake that had finally been completed.
For a moment, no one spoke.
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It was, without question, an “ugly lamb cake.”
Not only did it fully live up to the spirit promised on the packaging—
it had somehow gone beyond any reasonable interpretation of that idea.
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The lamb’s head tilted awkwardly to one side, its proportions so off-balance it looked as if someone had forcibly twisted it into place.
The mouth had been fitted with teeth made from pieces of white chocolate, arranged unevenly, one by one—
which only added to its unsettling sense of realism.
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The eyes had been applied using green dye, dripped on without precision.
The color had spread into irregular shapes, and from a distance, it looked less like a decoration and more like some kind of mutated creature—
almost… zombified.
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It hadn’t started out this extreme.
But during the decorating process, things had escalated.
What began as a disagreement—“this isn’t ugly enough”—had turned into mutual accusations,
then into both of them wielding spatulas like rapiers, parrying each other midair to interfere with the other’s frosting—
until, in one careless collision, the entire face of the lamb had been knocked crooked,
locking it permanently into its current form.
The two of them fell silent at the same time.
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The momentum they had just been immersed in—the energy of creation—vanished all at once.
At the same time, they both seemed to remember—
this was Claire’s birthday cake.
Not some kind of competition piece.
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The atmosphere shifted instantly, tinged with a subtle awkwardness.
Jason frowned slightly as he looked at the finished product.
Dick, on the other hand, turned his gaze away just a little.
Neither of them spoke first.
As if each was waiting for the other to admit—
that this might have gone a bit too far.
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But in the next second—
Claire laughed.
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Not a polite laugh.
Not a forced one.
A real, uncontrollable laugh.
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She bent forward, one hand bracing against the table as the laughter spilled out without restraint, almost throwing her off balance.
With her other hand, she wiped at the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her breathing was uneven, like she couldn’t quite stop.
It took her a moment before she could manage to speak, the words coming out broken between breaths—
“Don’t… don’t get me wrong… I really love it.”
The sentence wasn’t complete.
But the feeling behind it was unmistakable.
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The two brothers exchanged a glance.
The slight awkwardness that had been stuck in their chests finally loosened.
They both relaxed a little, as if some invisible pressure had been lifted.
Dick reached out and placed the candles onto the cake.
Jason helped clear the table a bit.
Then the three of them stood together.
The lights were turned off, leaving only the soft flicker of candlelight swaying gently between them.
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They sang “Happy Birthday.”
Not perfectly in sync—
but sincere enough.
When the song ended, their gazes naturally settled on Claire.
Waiting for her to make a wish.
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Claire closed her eyes.
Her hands came together lightly, fingers interlaced.
The warm glow of the candles softened the lines of her face.
Her breathing gradually steadied.
Then she spoke.
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“My first wish—”
“I hope this damn loop ends soon.”
No hesitation.
No embellishment.
Just a direct, unmistakable wish.
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“The second—”
“I hope that no one gets hurt while we’re trying to figure out why this loop is happening.”
This one was quieter.
But heavier.
As if she had already accepted that the path ahead wouldn’t be easy.
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She paused for a few seconds.
As if thinking about the last wish.
Then said—
“My third wish… is a secret.”
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She opened her eyes—
and blew out the candles in one breath.
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The flames vanished instantly.
The room fell into complete darkness.
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Dick, who had just turned off the lights, instinctively moved toward where he remembered the switch to be, intending to turn them back on.
But after feeling along the wall a few times—
he found nothing.
He frowned slightly, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty in the dark.
“The switch was right here just now.”
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Jason, standing nearby, replied with a trace of impatience,
“Do you even know what you’re doing?”
But he didn’t actually step in to help.
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Dick kept searching along the wall, his fingers sliding over the cold surface, missing the switch he was certain should be there—again and again.
The moment stretched just a little too long, turning this small mistake into something more noticeable.
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Claire, the owner of the place, finally lost patience.
She stood up and walked toward them, intending to resolve it herself.
She reached out, feeling for the familiar spot—
almost certain her hand would find the switch in the next second.
She turned her head, about to casually make a remark about Nightwing not even being able to find a light switch—
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when something warm and soft suddenly pressed against her lips.
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In that instant—
her entire body froze.
Her eyes flew open, her breath catching in her chest.
And the other person clearly hadn’t expected it either—
pulling away almost immediately,
as if burned.
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In the darkness—
nothing could be seen.
Claire dropped down reflexively.
She pulled her knees in, arms wrapped around them, curling into herself as her mind went completely blank.
Beside her, Nightwing made no sound.
Didn’t move.
The silence in the air felt… wrong.
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Then, in the darkness, Jason’s voice came from nearby, edged with confusion.
“Did you guys find the switch or not?”
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Claire didn’t answer.
She simply lifted one hand slowly, reaching upward—
her movement precise.
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The next second—
click.
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The lights came on.
The room flooded with brightness again.
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Jason blinked.
Then looked toward the corner.
His expression shifted immediately into clear confusion.
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Claire was curled up there.
And on the other side, Dick stood still—
one hand covering his mouth.
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and then Add to home screen.