Vance barely had a moment to react before everything around him shifted. The Ruins, Susie, the stone steps beneath him—all of it melted away into a thick, formless darkness. Then, just as quickly, his surroundings reassembled, but they were no longer the familiar remnants of monster civilization.
Instead, Vance found himself standing in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with something suffocating. It wasn't real—it couldn't be. He had felt this sensation before, back when he first heard Chara and Nina. But unlike those times, this wasn't his mind. It was someone else's.
Susie's.
He stood as an observer, unseen, unheard. A silent spectator in the depths of another person's pain.
The room was small and cluttered, the air thick with the scent of oil and machinery. A younger Susie sat huddled in the corner, her purple scales dull and her yellow eyes wide with fear. Her father, Drak, loomed over her, his sharp claws digging into the wooden table as he glared down at her.
"You're useless," Drak snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You'll never amount to anything. You're just a burden."
Susie flinched, her claws digging into her arms as she tried to shrink further into the corner. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Drak sneered, turning away from her. "Sorry doesn't cut it. You need to toughen up, or you'll never survive in this world."
The memory shifted, and Vance found himself standing in a dark alley. Susie was older now, but not by much. Her clothes were torn, and her face was bruised. She sat alone, her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared at the ground. There was a fire in her eyes, a determination to keep going, no matter what. But there was also pain—so much pain.
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The memories began to flow faster, each one a snapshot of Susie's life. Vance watched as she grew up in the shadow of her father's neglect and cruelty. Her mother had died when she was born, leaving Drak to raise her alone. But Drak was no father—he was a tyrant, a man consumed by his own greed and ambition.
Drak worked as a corrupt higher-up in one of the Steamworks' companies, a producer of materials used to power the underground. He was well-connected, but his connections were built on lies and manipulation. He spent most of his time at work, leaving Susie to fend for herself. When he was home, he was harsh and critical, never missing an opportunity to remind her of how worthless she was.
Susie grew up isolated, an outcast among the other monsters. Her sharp tongue and abrasive personality didn't help matters. She was quick to anger and even quicker to lash out, pushing people away before they could get too close. The other kids avoided her, and the adults whispered about her behind her back.
But there were moments of light in the darkness.
Vance watched as a young deer monster with soft white fur and gentle blue eyes approached Susie one day. The sight made his breath hitch.
Noelle Holiday.
His mind reeled at the recognition, but at this point, he wasn't even surprised. The past two weeks in the Ruins had made one thing abundantly clear—this world wasn't exactly the same as the Undertale he once knew. At first, he thought it was just small differences, like some monsters having slightly altered appearances or unfamiliar species popping up among the Ruins' inhabitants. But then there were big changes—like the Maus, the tiny, cheese-obsessed creatures that he distinctly remembered from Deltarune, not Undertale. That alone had made him question the true nature of the world he had been reborn into.
And now, here was Noelle Holiday—someone who was definitely from Deltarune in Susie's memories also a character he knew as an important character in Delatrune being one of the initial 3 party members aside from Ralsei and the player character Kris.
Vance felt a mix of curiosity and unease settle in his chest as he continued watching.
Noelle stood a short distance away from Susie, her hands clasped in front of her nervously. The air around them was thick with the scent of burning metal and the occasional hiss of steam escaping from the pipes of the Steamworks.
"Hi," Noelle said, her voice soft but friendly. "I'm Noelle. What's your name?"
Susie, who had been sitting against a stack of discarded metal scraps, looked up, her yellow eyes narrowing. "Why do you care?"
Noelle blinked at the hostility but didn't back away. "I just thought you looked lonely. Do you want to play with me?"
Susie scoffed. "Play? What am I, five?"
Noelle's ears drooped slightly, but she smiled anyway. "I mean… you don't have to play, play. We could just… I dunno, explore? My big sister's off looking at the machines, so I don't have much to do."
Susie frowned, looking past Noelle to see another deer monster in the distance—Dess Holiday.
Unlike Noelle, Dess had a rougher look to her, with dark brown fur and sharp red eyes that flicked over the machinery with keen interest. She had an air of confidence that made her stand out.
"She your sister?" Susie asked.
"Yep! She's super cool. She's not really interested in all the, um, business talk, so she wanted to see the machines instead," Noelle explained, rocking on her heels.
Susie hesitated, her tough exterior cracking just a little. "…I guess I could show you around."
Noelle beamed. "Really?"
"Tch. Just don't get in my way."
And just like that, Susie had her first real friend.
For the next few hours, she and Noelle wandered through the Steamworks together. Noelle's excitement was contagious, her awe at the massive gears and complex machinery making Susie see the place through a different lens. It wasn't just a miserable, suffocating place where she was constantly pushed aside—it was a place of wonder, of invention.
They talked about little things—Noelle's life in Snowdin, how she wanted to be a doctor like her mom someday, and how her mom was always overworked as Snowdin's mayor. That bit surprised Susie.
"So your mom's, like, really important, huh?" Susie asked as they stood near a set of old conveyor belts.
Noelle nodded. "Yeah, Mom's here for a business trip with Dad. Something about checking if the Steamworks' energy supply is still stable. But honestly, I think she just wanted to bring me and Dess along to see something new."
Susie scoffed. "Must be nice, having a family that actually wants to be around you."
Noelle tilted her head. "Don't you?"
Susie didn't answer right away. Her fingers clenched around the hem of her tattered jacket. "…My dad doesn't care about me. He just works all the time. I don't even know what he does half the time. He's never around, and when he is, he just yells at me."
Noelle frowned. "That's awful…"
"Yeah, well, it is what it is."
A moment of silence passed between them. Then, Noelle suddenly reached into her bag and pulled out a small wrapped candy. "Here."
Susie blinked at the offering. "What?"
"It's a Snowpaw Caramel! My favorite. My sister says I should eat less sweets, but I always keep extra," Noelle said with a shy smile. "You looked like you needed something nice today."
Susie hesitated, staring at the caramel in Noelle's outstretched palm. No one had ever just given her something before. It was such a small thing—just a piece of candy—but to Susie, it meant more than she could put into words.
"…Thanks," she muttered, taking it.
The two of them continued exploring for the rest of the day, laughing and talking like old friends.
For the first time in a long time, Susie felt happy.
But happiness never lasted.
Eventually, Noelle's family finished their business and left the Steamworks, returning to Snowdin. Susie never saw her again.
And just like that, she was alone again.
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The memories shifted again, peeling away the fleeting warmth of companionship and revealing the harsh, inevitable decline of the Steamworks.
The invention of the CORE by the head royal scientist, W.D. Gaster, had revolutionized the Underground's energy production. A marvel of technology, it provided a near-limitless supply of geothermal energy, drawn directly from the deepest parts of the Underground. Unlike the Steamworks, which required constant maintenance and fuel to keep running, the CORE was efficient, self-sustaining, and required far fewer workers. It was a masterpiece of innovation.
And it was the death sentence for the Steamworks.
At first, there had been denial—businesses operating within the Steamworks insisted that the CORE was just a trend, that the tried-and-true steam-powered industry would endure. But reality set in quickly. Funding and support from New Home's government dried up, redirected to the maintenance and expansion of the CORE. Orders for steam-powered machinery plummeted, and one by one, the once-mighty corporations that had thrived in the Steamworks began to collapse.
Drak's company was among the first to fall.
For years, he had built his wealth not just through his factories, but through carefully crafted deals with other corrupt businessmen—hoarding funds, cutting corners, exploiting workers, and bribing officials. It had worked in the past, keeping him afloat even when competition was fierce. But now that the industry itself was failing, his allies turned on him like starving dogs. In a desperate bid to save themselves, they offered up Drak as a scapegoat, feeding his name to the authorities in exchange for leniency.
It wasn't long before King Asgore himself intervened. The scandal of corruption had grown too large to ignore, and the Royal Guard launched an official investigation. One by one, Drak's hidden bank accounts were seized, his offshore vaults emptied, his assets confiscated. The wealth he had spent his life accumulating was gone in an instant, stripped away by the very system he had once manipulated.
Drak lost everything—his money, his power, his status. The workers he had employed were left with nothing, thrown onto the streets as factories shut down. Without stable income, families that had once lived near the Steamworks were forced to abandon their homes, seeking refuge in the slums of New Home or the farthest reaches of the Underground. The Steamworks, once a hub of progress and industry, became a ghost town.
Now, only the remnants of its past remained.
The great furnaces that had once roared with life now stood cold and silent. The thick, black smog that had choked the sky dissipated, leaving the air eerily still. The massive gears and conveyor belts that had once transported materials across the industrial labyrinth now lay broken and rusted, half-swallowed by decay. And wandering through the husks of abandoned factories were the only remnants of its workforce—the robots.
Once, these mechanical workers had assisted the living, moving heavy cargo, assembling machinery, and keeping the Steamworks running smoothly. But with no masters left to give them orders, they wandered aimlessly, their programming eroding with time. Some continued their tasks in an endless loop, picking up scraps of metal only to set them down again. Others simply stood frozen, their power cores flickering like dying embers. The few that retained a semblance of awareness had taken to scavenging, cobbling together whatever remained in an attempt to keep functioning.
But no one cared.
No one came to fix them, to restore the industry that had once been the backbone of the Underground. The Steamworks was dead.
And Drak was furious.
His anger had no direction, no purpose—it burned wildly, seeking anyone and anything to blame for his downfall. He cursed the king for interfering, the CORE for making steam technology obsolete, the corrupt officials for betraying him. But most of all, he cursed Susie.
"If you weren't such a burden, maybe I could've saved us!"
The words rang out like gunfire in the empty house they now lived in—a crumbling, dilapidated structure that had once belonged to one of Drak's former associates. Now, it was all he had left.
His claws slammed into the wall beside Susie's head, leaving deep, jagged marks in the already splintering wood.
Susie didn't flinch.
She had learned long ago that fear only made it worse. So she locked it away, buried it deep inside where it couldn't be seen. But Vance, watching the memory unfold, could see it anyway. It was in the way her claws dug into her palms, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned pale. It was in the way her tail twitched ever so slightly, a suppressed instinct to flee.
But she didn't.
Because she had nowhere to run.
The Steamworks was abandoned, its people scattered. There was no one left to help her, no one left to care.
She was alone.
And Drak made sure she knew it.
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The memories pressed on, dragging Vance deeper into Susie's past.
The journey of the refugees was a desperate, grueling ordeal. When the Steamworks had fallen, Drak had been one of the few who refused to accept reality. Even after his company had crumbled and his wealth had been seized, he still held onto the illusion that he could rebuild—if only he had the right opportunity, the right place, the right people to manipulate.
And so he gathered what remained of his former workers and their families, weaving them promises of a new beginning. He spoke of opportunity beyond the reach of New Home's government, a place where they could carve out their own future. The Ruins, he claimed, were untouched land—a place abandoned for generations, ripe for the taking. If they could get there, they could start again.
But his promises were hollow.
He didn't care about the people who followed him. To Drak, they were tools—pawns to be used for his own benefit. The moment they outlived their usefulness, he would discard them without hesitation.
Susie knew this.
But she had nowhere else to go.
So she walked among them, her shoulders tense, her gaze sharp, watching the slow deterioration of the group as their journey stretched from days into weeks, and then into months.
The Underground was vast, and the path to the Ruins was not a straight one. Without reliable transportation, they were forced to travel on foot, navigating through dark tunnels and desolate landscapes. The refugees scavenged what they could, but food was scarce, and clean water was even harder to find. They relied on whatever edible scraps they could steal from the outskirts of New Home or barter from passing merchants.
It wasn't enough.
Hunger gnawed at their ribs. The weakest among them—children and the elderly—suffered the most. Illness spread through the group like wildfire, and without proper medical care, some never recovered.
At night, when they found shelter in old, abandoned structures or hidden caves, the air was thick with despair. The refugees huddled together for warmth, their eyes hollow, their conversations reduced to whispers of regret. Some spoke of turning back. Some simply vanished in the night, slipping away when they could no longer bear the suffering.
Drak barely seemed to notice.
He spent most of his time scheming, muttering to himself about how he would rise again, how he would reclaim his power. When the group needed a leader—someone to make decisions, to guide them—he was nowhere to be found. And when he was present, his words were sharp, cutting down anyone who questioned him.
Especially Susie.
She bore the brunt of his frustrations. Every failure, every setback, every misfortune that befell them—he blamed her.
"Useless brat," he'd snap when she failed to find enough food on scavenging trips.
"You're not even worth feeding," he growled when she took her share of the rations.
Susie stopped expecting kindness.
But she never stopped helping.
She carried supplies when others were too weak. She hunted when no one else had the strength. She defended the group when desperate scavengers tried to steal what little they had left.
But no one thanked her.
No one even noticed.
She was a shadow, a lingering presence tolerated but not acknowledged.
And yet, she didn't stop.
Because deep down, some small part of her—the part that still clung to the memory of a deer monster with kind eyes—wanted to believe that if she just tried hard enough, if she just proved herself, someone would finally see her.
But no one did.
When they finally reached the Ruins, they were a broken people.
The refugees staggered through the crumbling stone gates, their bodies weak, their spirits even weaker. Some fell to their knees, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Others looked around warily, uncertain if they had truly found a safe haven or just another false hope.
Susie felt something she hadn't in a long time.
Relief.
Maybe here, things would be different.
Maybe here, she could start over.
But before she could even take in the new surroundings, her eyes caught something strange.
A human.
He stood in the central square, surrounded by the leaders of the Ruins. His golden soul glowed faintly—a shimmering light in the dim ruins, like a beacon in the darkness.
Susie narrowed her eyes.
"Who's that?" she muttered, her voice low.
One of the other refugees, a weary-looking lizard monster, barely glanced up. "Some human kid. They say he's been helping the monsters here."
Susie frowned, her claws flexing. "A human? What's he doing here?"
The lizard shrugged. "Dunno. But Toriel—the lady who runs this place—she likes him."
That caught Susie's attention.
Toriel.
The name was already spreading through the refugees. She was the one who had allowed them into the Ruins, the one who had ensured they were given food and shelter. Some whispered that she had once been royalty, that she had power beyond what most monsters could dream of.
And if she was siding with a human…
Susie's gaze lingered on the boy.
Something about him felt… off.
Not dangerous, exactly. But not normal, either.
He didn't look scared. Most humans—at least the ones Susie had heard about—were terrified of monsters. But this one stood calmly, listening to the elders, his expression unreadable. His golden soul pulsed faintly, and something about the way he held himself, the way he looked at the monsters around him…
It made her uneasy.
But also… curious.
Susie didn't trust him.
Not yet.
But for the first time in a long time, she felt something other than anger, exhaustion, or loneliness.
She didn't have a name for it yet.
But it was there.