Jessa Morlin braced for the crushing impact, the scent of fresh soil and damp leaf matter filling her nostrils. The Snap-Dragon’s massive jaws, a vibrant jade green, began to close around her, the air whistling past her ears. She could feel the pressure of the serrated teeth, not yet piercing, but promising a swift end.
Then, a gentle *thwap* against the plant’s leathery hide. “Oh, now, Rumbles, we don’t eat our visitors, especially before they’ve had a chance to say hello!” a cheerful voice chided. “And you didn’t even ask if she was hungry first! That’s just rude, isn’t it, little guy?”
The pressure on Jessa’s body abruptly vanished. She tumbled forward, landing in a soft heap on a carpet of moss-like flora, gasping for breath. Above her, the Snap-Dragon, which had seemed so terrifying a moment ago, was now nuzzling a young man with bright, earnest eyes, its massive head tilted like an overgrown puppy.
Barris, still in his soil-stained coveralls, rubbed the Snap-Dragon’s chin with an easy familiarity that made Jessa’s mouth drop open. “There, there, green bean. Good boy. Just excited, aren’t we? But no nibbling, remember our manners.” He turned to Jessa, offering a hand. “Oh, hello! You must be one of Magnar’s new botanical interns. Welcome to the Veldross Estate! I’m Barris. And this is Rumbles. He’s a bit overenthusiastic sometimes, but he just wants to make new friends.”
Jessa stared at the colossal plant, then at the man who had just addressed it as ‘little guy’. She took Barris’s outstretched hand, her fingers brushing against calluses that spoke of long hours spent tending. “Jessa Morlin,” she managed, her voice a rough whisper. “And… Rumbles?”
“Yes! He hums when he’s happy,” Barris explained, patting the plant’s snout. The creature let out a low purr that resonated through the flagstones. “See? Happy as a Sproutling-Moth in a nectar bloom. Were you looking for the new Cinder-Bloom strain? They’re just past the bioluminescent fungi grotto.”
Before Jessa could reply, a harsh, metallic voice cut through the air. “What in the blazing blazes is going on here?”
Magnar Veldross strode into the clearing, his bespoke suit immaculate, his expression a thundercloud. His eyes, sharp and obsidian, immediately fixed on Jessa, scanning her disheveled form, the faint scorch marks on her jacket from the energy deterrents, and the dust clinging to her hair. A team of three heavily armed estate sentries materialized behind him, their blaster rifles held at the ready.
Barris, completely oblivious to the loaded weapons and bristling silence, beamed. “Magnar! Look! We have a visitor! This is Jessa. She just arrived.” He gestured between Jessa and Rumbles. “Rumbles here gave her a very enthusiastic welcome, but I reminded him about his manners. I think she’s one of the new interns.”
Magnar’s gaze flickered from Jessa to Barris, then back to Jessa. His lips thinned into a dangerous line. “Intern? Barris, I believe this individual scaled the perimeter wall, bypassed three tiers of sensor grids, and appears to have just fallen into this creature's maw. She’s not an intern. She’s an intruder.”
Jessa felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. The sentries shifted, their weapons clicking ominously.
Barris frowned. “Oh. But she’s not doing anything bad. She just seemed to be… falling. Maybe she got lost? The West Wing can be a bit confusing for new people. Perhaps she’s an exceptionally dedicated applicant? I think she’d be excellent. She looks very determined.” He gave Jessa an encouraging nod. “Are you very determined, Jessa?”
Jessa, seeing an unexpected lifeline, seized it. “Extremely,” she affirmed, meeting Magnar’s icy glare with her own defiant one. “I specialize in advanced plant forensics and experimental hybridization. And I heard… that *you*,” she pointed at Barris, “were doing groundbreaking work here. I felt compelled to apply in person.”
Magnar’s eyes narrowed further, assessing. “Forensic cultivation, you say? And you thought scaling a fortified wall was the appropriate application procedure?”
“I’m nothing if not thorough in my investigations,” Jessa retorted, a spark of her usual academic ferocity returning. “And your HR department is notoriously difficult to get through.”
Barris clapped his hands together, delighted. “See, Magnar? A perfect fit! Someone who isn’t afraid of a little adventure to get to the plants! I’ve been meaning to ask for an assistant to help with the Apex-Orchid’s nutrient schedule and the Razor-Vines’ knitting patterns. Jessa, you look like you have excellent dexterity for tiny needles.”
Magnar closed his eyes for a brief, agonizing moment. The Apex-Orchid now required bedtime stories, and the Razor-Vines had bespoke clothing. His life was a clown show. He opened his eyes, fixing Jessa with a stare that promised a slow, painful reckoning. “Fine. She’s an aide. But if one leaf is out of place, or if you so much as sneeze in the wrong direction, Morlin, you’ll find yourself sharing a cell with a particularly irritable Gloom-Shroom.” He gestured to his security squad. “Escort the new hire to the guest quarters. And run a full background check. Every single pixel of her digital footprint. Then a full bioscape scan. Leave no spore unturned.”
As the security squad led a somewhat dazed Jessa away, Barris turned to Magnar, his brow furrowed. “Did she seem a bit… startled? I hope our friend here didn’t scare her too much. I’ll make sure he gets extra cuddle time tonight.”
Magnar merely pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating the utterly bizarre turn his life had taken. “Barris, your ability to misinterpret danger as enthusiasm is truly a marvel of modern psychology.”
Later that evening, after Magnar had retreated to his office, a migraine brewing behind his eyes, Jessa found Barris meticulously polishing the leaves of a small, shimmering Glow-Bloom. She held a data slate in her hand, its screen displaying scanned images of his old journals.
“Barris,” she began, her voice softer than Magnar’s had been, “we need to talk about these.” She handed him the slate. “These are your experimental observations, your unique hybridization theories, your calculations for the Trelon family’s celebrated ‘Sun-Kissed Solstice’ strain.”
Barris took the slate, his eyes lighting up as he recognized his own familiar handwriting. “Oh! My old notes! I haven’t seen these in ages. Korin must have finally found them. He was always losing my things. I told him they were in the broom closet, but he never listens. Did you bring them back for me, Jessa? That’s very kind.”
Jessa felt a knot tighten in her stomach. “Barris, these notes were presented by Korin as his own work at the Ostrum Botanical Academy. He claimed credit for the ‘Sun-Kissed Solstice’ and every other successful Trelon strain for the past five years. He won the coveted Aurelian Crest for them.”
Barris looked at her, his head tilted. “Oh, did he? Well, that’s just like Korin. He always ‘helped’ me with my projects by writing up the final reports. I suppose he just really loves my notes. He always said my handwriting was so neat. It’s wonderful that he got an award for them. He always wanted to win something. He probably worked very hard on the presentation. Did he include my little doodle of the crying Fungus-Fawn? That one was my favorite.”
Jessa stared, speechless. The sheer, unadulterated innocence was staggering. It wasn’t just naiveté; it was a fundamental inability to perceive malicious intent. Her initial anger at Korin’s theft now transmuted into a fierce, protective resolve. How could anyone exploit such a pure, kind heart?
“Barris,” she said, her voice firm, “Korin didn’t ‘help’ you. He stole your genius. He lied. He took everything you accomplished and branded it as his own.”
Barris blinked. “Oh. Well, I always told him he could use my notes if he needed them. He was always so busy with his own studies. I don’t mind. I just like making the plants happy. And it sounds like he was very happy with them.”
Jessa closed her eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. This wouldn’t be a conversation. This would be a crusade. “Barris,” she said, her voice laced with an unyielding conviction, “I promise you, I will make sure the world knows the truth. Every single one of these notes, every single one of your unique discoveries, will be credited to you. And Korin Trelon will pay for what he’s done. Consider it my… new assistant project.”
Across the Veldross Estate, in his cavernous study, Magnar Veldross watched the city lights twinkle through the viewport. His datapad buzzed, displaying an urgent message from his legal team. The subject line blared: “Emergency Trelon Conservatorship Petition – Immediate Action Required.”
He opened the file. The Trelon family, facing imminent bankruptcy, was attempting to declare Barris mentally unfit to manage his own affairs, citing his ‘irrational attachment to dangerous flora’ and his ‘eccentric behavior’. They demanded his immediate return to their custody to ‘rehabilitate’ him and, Magnar knew, to exploit his botanical genius to save their failing company. The legal documents specified a hearing for the following morning.
Magnar's mouth pressed into a severe line. They wanted to take Barris. His Barris. The one who sang lullabies to carnivorous plants and knitted tiny sweaters for razor-vines. The one who, despite being a walking liability, had somehow carved a path into Magnar’s carefully guarded, stressed-out existence. The thought of Barris being dragged back into that neglectful, exploitative family made a cold fury clench in Magnar’s chest. Surrender Barris, or find a legal loophole to make him untouchable. But the Trelons had played their hand perfectly, and the clock was already ticking down to zero.