Betelgeuse stood in the kitchen and stared at the long road ahead. He wanted to reach the other stars of Orion. He would start with Rigel, the brightest one, because that was the practical place to begin. He had been trying for so long he had stopped counting. Shaula set a thick book down on the counter. "Found this," she said. "You should look." Her voice was flat. She did not explain. Betelgeuse opened the star atlas. His finger moved across the page and stopped. There, in small clear letters, was his own name. A red supergiant in Orion. Named after him. Antares stepped closer and tapped the page. "That's you," he said. "Up there. Burning." He spoke plainly, with quiet respect. Betelgeuse crossed the room to the glowing globe on its stand. The swirling red light pulsed inside the glass. He looked up at the lit constellation display on the wall. One bright point blinked back at him. It was him. It had always been him. He set the atlas down slowly. The plan had changed. He was not only trying to reach the stars of Orion. He was one of them already, and the others needed to know he was coming.

Betelgeuse turned from the glowing globe with a new purpose. The star was his. He needed to take it home. He lifted the red globe off its stand. Shaula watched without a word. Antares gave a small nod from the doorway. "I'm claiming it," Betelgeuse said. He pulled a shimmering net from the counter and wrapped the globe inside. The threads caught the light and held it like trapped sparks. He set a tall crimson flashlight beside the net. Its red beam pushed across the kitchen floor. "So they see it from outside," he said. Antares looked at the beam and said, "They'll see." Shaula slid a glowing cursive sign across the counter. His name, lit in red. "Proof," she said. He tucked it under his arm. Betelgeuse stood over the wrapped star, the beam, and the sign. The star was no longer just a name on a page. It was his to carry. The hard part started now — making the others look up.

Betelgeuse lifted the wrapped star and stepped onto the kitchen floor. The march to Orion had begun. He carried the bold name-sign high in one hand, the net-wrapped globe in the other. His boots scuffed a clear trail across the boards. Behind him stood a tall mech, plates glinting, eyes burning yellow. It stomped in step, leaving heavy dents that traced his path. Shaula walked at his flank. "Stay in line," she said. Antares followed, steady and quiet. "You've earned this ground," he said. Betelgeuse only nodded. He planted the sign at the far edge of the floor. The letters caught the light. He set the star beneath it. The mech halted behind him like a sentinel. Betelgeuse had reached Orion's place and claimed it. But the other stars stayed dark and silent on the page. He had arrived. No one had looked up.

The stars on the page stayed dark. Betelgeuse stared at his planted sign, then turned away from it. If the others would not look up, he would make them. He needed something brighter than a globe in a net. The white pearl closet stood at the far wall, gold rims shining. Shaula tapped its side. "It sleeps here." Antares folded his arms. "Then wake it." The doors split open. The tall mech stepped out, plates layered, orange lights burning along its chest. Betelgeuse studied the seam at its core. A hatch. A way in. He climbed. Hand over hand, up the cold plating, until the hatch hissed wide. He slid inside. Lights blinked around him. At the center hung a real star, small and white-hot, caged in wires. Betelgeuse cut the wires. He cradled the star and climbed back down. Outside, he strung it inside a wide woven net stamped with a robot motif. The star hung there, plain for anyone to see. The mech stood empty behind him, hollowed out. Betelgeuse had his prize. But the closet doors were already grinding shut, and the orange lights along the empty shell began to blink red.