Apricot held Napoleon's wedding cake fork up to the light, watching butterscotch crystals reflect off its silver tines. The antiquarian across from her narrowed his eyes, and she realized too late she'd been bragging to a real expert. The man gestured toward an elegant vanity behind him, its drawers gleaming with alien patterns. "I keep authenticated pieces in there," he said. "Yours doesn't match the Bonaparte family crest." Apricot's cheeks burned. She fumbled in her pocket for candied moon-rocks, pushing them across his desk. "Test it properly," she demanded. "I'll prove it came from Napoleon himself." The antiquarian pocketed her currency and pulled out a magnifying device. Apricot watched him examine the fork, her heart pounding. If this piece turned out fake, her entire collection might be worthless. He set down the device and smiled coldly. "Bring me documentation by tomorrow, or I'll publish my findings." Apricot followed the antiquarian outside to a laboratory built from pink and purple metal. Inside, he placed her fork under a scanning apparatus that hummed and glowed. Blue light washed over the silver, revealing tiny engravings she'd never noticed. The antiquarian studied a screen, then turned to her with raised eyebrows. "The metallurgy matches French imperial standards from 1796," he admitted. "The sugar residue tests positive for period-appropriate cake ingredients." Apricot grabbed the fork back, her confidence flooding through her again. She had the real thing after all, and now she knew exactly where to find more gourmands' treasures. But the antiquarian wasn't finished. He pulled out an ornate scroll covered in shimmering symbols and metallic patterns. "If you're truly a serious collector, you'll have one of these," he said. Apricot stared at the document, recognizing the cosmic markings that authenticated noble collections across the galaxy. Her stomach dropped. She'd never bothered with official paperwork, trusting her instincts and midnight dealers instead. The antiquarian rolled up the scroll and tucked it away. "Without proper documentation, your collection means nothing to historians," he said. "Even if every piece is genuine." Apricot left the laboratory knowing she'd proven one fork authentic, but her entire pursuit had just gotten more complicated.