I meet up with Papyrus, and we naturally wait for Frisk to show up.
"Hey! It's the human! You're gonna love this puzzle—it was made by the great Dr. Alphys!"
Papyrus stands proudly before a strange grid of tiles spread across the snowy path, his chest puffed out as if he invented it himself.
"You see these tiles? Once I throw this switch, they'll begin to change color! Each color has a different function!"
He begins pacing dramatically, raising a bony finger with each explanation.
"Red tiles are impassable. You cannot walk on them. Yellow tiles are electric—they'll electrocute you. Green tiles are alarm tiles—if you step on one, you'll have to fight a monster. Orange tiles are orange-scented. They'll make you smell delicious!"
He doesn't pause for breath.
"Blue tiles are water tiles. You can swim through them if you like. But if you smell like oranges, the piranhas will bite you. Also! If a blue tile is next to a yellow tile, the water will zap you too."
He spins on his heel and continues.
"Purple tiles are slippery! You'll slide to the next tile. However, the slippery soap smells like lemons, which piranhas do not like. So purple and blue are okay!"
He finally stops and gestures grandly.
"Finally, pink tiles… they don't do anything at all. Step on them all you like!"
Papyrus beams with pride. "So! How was that? Understand the explanation?"
Frisk, who had been trying very hard to follow along, blinks slowly. "Umm… I guess so?"
To be fair, I was barely paying attention myself. I'm pretty sure she fell asleep halfway through that mess of rules, because I know I did. There were oranges, piranhas, lemons, and soap somewhere in the middle… or was that a cooking recipe?
"Great!" Papyrus says, clearly satisfied. "Then there's one last thing!"
He leans toward the switch beside him with dramatic flair.
"This puzzle… is completely random! When I pull this switch, it will generate a puzzle that has never been seen before! Even I won't know the solution! Nyeh heh heh! Get ready!"
He yanks the lever down, and the machine sputters to life.
The grid of tiles begins to flash wildly—red, yellow, green, blue, orange, purple, pink—colors flicker across the surface, shifting rapidly like a scrambled television screen.
And then… the flashing stops.
The machine powers down with a faint puff of smoke, and the "random" puzzle reveals itself.
It's a completely straight path.
Of pink tiles.
Just pink. From start to finish.
Papyrus stares in stunned silence for a moment. Then, without saying a word, he slowly turns around… and leaves. No fanfare. No dramatic exit. Just an awkward shuffle off-screen.
Frisk looks at the tiles, shrugs, and walks straight across them with ease.
She reaches the other side in seconds.
I casually step up beside her, hands in my pockets.
"Actually," I say, glancing over at her, "that spaghetti from earlier… it wasn't too bad. For my brother, I mean. Since he started cooking lessons, he's been getting better. I bet if he keeps practicing, next year he might even make something edible."
Frisk gives a small smile, amused.
She looks down the snowy path ahead, then keeps moving, leaving behind the bizarre puzzle and its even more bizarre explanation. I walk behind her, hands still tucked lazily in my hoodie.
The air is quiet again, apart from the crunch of our footsteps. Snowflakes drift gently through the trees. It's peaceful, in that strange, offbeat way this underground place always seems to be.
Papyrus may not have made the greatest puzzle in the world, but you've gotta admit—he really knows how to put on a show.
And something tells me there's more of that show waiting just around the corner.