The morning mist still clung to the air when Lena descended into Lixia's underground workshop.
Each step echoed faintly off the stone walls, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of her boots mixing with the soft hum of magic-powered machinery below.
She carried a woven basket filled with apples, peaches, and a few experimental fruits from the manor orchard—her unofficial "sponsorship delivery." 🍎🍑✨
The heavy iron door to the workshop hissed open with a faint click, releasing a puff of steam and the smell of burnt metal.
Inside, the air shimmered with faint mana currents—blue sparks danced between copper wires, gears turned lazily, and at the center of it all was Lixia.
Still in her stained apron, goggles pushed up on her forehead, hair in a slightly chaotic bun. She hadn't noticed Lena yet—completely absorbed in soldering a glowing rune circuit onto what looked suspiciously like a blender.
---
Lena leaned against the doorway, smiling faintly.
"Should I be worried that I smell ozone and see smoke this early in the morning?" she teased.
Lixia didn't even look up.
"Depends," she replied, tightening a screw with impossible precision. "Do you value your eyebrows?"
Lena sighed, setting the basket down on a nearby workbench already cluttered with scraps of metal, crystal fragments, and scribbled blueprints.
"I brought fruits," she said. "You know, for testing—not exploding."
At that, Lixia finally looked up. Her eyes gleamed—a mix of exhaustion and triumph.
"Oh, perfect timing!" she said, tugging off her gloves dramatically. "Because behold—"
She gestured to the device on the table—a sleek contraption with metal fins, runic etchings, and a glass bowl. "The Blendstorm 3000™!"
Lena blinked. "…You made a blender."
"Not just a blender!" Lixia said indignantly. "It slices! It dices! It liquefies fruit into smooth perfection with lightning mana efficiency! Watch—"
Before Lena could protest, Lixia grabbed one of the apples from the basket, dropped it in the bowl, and pressed a rune switch.
A spark of mana surged through the copper coil—then vwoooosh!
The apple became purée in less than three seconds.
A faint puff of frost drifted out from a vent, followed by the gentle hum of cooling magic.
Lixia beamed. "See? No explosions! Not even one!"
Lena gave her a long look. "…Should I ask how many non-demo models exploded?"
"Statistically insignificant number," Lixia said quickly, hiding a singed blueprint behind her back.
---
Lena laughed softly, picking up the glass bowl and peering inside. The blended apple was perfectly smooth—no chunks, no magic residue, no metallic aftertaste.
"It's actually… good," she said, surprised. "You've outdone yourself, Lixia."
Lixia grinned, preening just a little. "Please, praise me more. I thrive on validation and caffeine."
"Speaking of caffeine…" Lena's eyes flicked to another workbench, where something suspiciously coffee-machine-shaped sat under a sheet. "What's that?"
Lixia froze mid-motion, like a cat caught mid-heist.
"…That," she said slowly, "is a prototype."
Lena raised a brow. "For?"
Lixia hesitated, then whipped off the cloth with a flourish.
"Espresso Arcana 1.0™!" she announced proudly. "Combines heat mana and water pressure to brew the perfect cup of morning motivation. I call it: Ambition in liquid form." ☕⚡
Lena clapped a hand over her mouth to hide a laugh. "You made a coffee machine. In a medieval world."
Lixia shrugged innocently. "What can I say? Civilization advances through caffeine."
---
They spent the next hour testing everything—the toaster, now refined to not occasionally eject flaming bread; the Frostbite 2000™, purring contentedly in the corner; and even a "Magic Mop Deluxe™," which scurried across the floor by itself.
Lena watched it zoom in circles before crashing gently into a barrel.
"…Still in beta?" she asked.
Lixia sighed. "Yeah. Version 0.9. It sometimes mistakes people for dust bunnies."
Lena giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's perfect in its own way. I'll call it personality."
Lixia snorted. "Then my entire workshop has too much personality."
---
As the two worked side by side, laughter and the whirr of machines filled the room.
For a moment, Lena forgot about noble politics, marriage letters, and the expectations of the court.
It was just her—and Lixia—and the quiet hum of creation.
At one point, Lixia glanced at her from across the table, her smile softening.
"You know," she said quietly, "I've built a lot of things down here. But it's different when it's for you."
Lena blinked, surprised by the sudden sincerity. "…What do you mean?"
Lixia looked down, fiddling with a wrench. "You bring ideas that don't belong in this world. Things no one's ever imagined. And when you talk about them… it's like you've seen them. Lived them. Makes me wonder if maybe… we're both from someplace else."
For a heartbeat, Lena froze—something in her chest tightening.
Then she smiled, small and wistful. "…Maybe we are."
The two shared a look—wordless understanding flickering between them.
Outside, morning light filtered through the high windows, catching motes of dust that sparkled like stars.
The Frostbite 2000™ hummed softly. The Blendstorm 3000™ beeped cheerfully.
And for that moment—the workshop wasn't a dungeon.
It was home. 💫⚙️🍎⚡🦋
---
⚡💢: Lightning in the Veins
The sun hung low behind the misty treeline, shafts of golden light piercing through drifting fog.
Lena stood in the middle of a clearing deep within the eastern forest — sword in hand, coat fluttering lightly in the wind. Around her, faint arcs of electricity flickered through the air.
Somewhere above, a shrill cry broke the quiet.
Then — a flash.
A streak of azure lightning tore across the sky, and from it dove a creature of feathers and fury.
The Stormfeather Voltavian — a rare bird-like elemental beast. Its wings shimmered with living electricity, every flap sending purple sparks across the canopy.
Lena exhaled softly. "Perfect timing."
At her side, small pink butterflies shimmered into existence — dozens of them, delicate yet deadly, their wings glowing faintly with ethereal energy.
They circled her like petals caught in the wind, responding to her calm presence.
---
When the Voltavian dived, Lena moved.
A flash of motion — graceful, controlled. Her boots barely touched the ground as she spun, her sword cutting a clean arc through the air.
The butterflies followed, leaving trails of pink light that weaved through the storm.
The Voltavian screeched, bolts of lightning firing from its wings, but Lena twirled through them effortlessly — her body remembering the rhythm of a dance long past.
Each swing of her blade met the crackle of thunder; each step fell in time with her own heartbeat.
A butterfly darted ahead, exploding in a burst of pink light that momentarily blinded the bird.
Lena seized the moment — her blade struck true.
A final cry, a burst of purple electricity — and the beast collapsed, its form flickering and fading into mist.
Where it fell, only faintly glowing shards remained.
Lena approached, brushing a lock of black hair — streaked faintly pink — from her eyes. She crouched, gathering the shards one by one.
Each piece shimmered with a violet hue, humming softly with stored energy.
"Electric crystals," she murmured, smiling faintly. "Lixia's going to owe me big time."
The butterflies gathered around her, twinkling like stars at dusk. She raised a hand and whispered,
"Thank you. Rest now."
One by one, the butterflies dissolved into a soft rain of pink light — drifting upward, disappearing into the quiet canopy above. 🦋💫
Lena exhaled, lowering her sword. Around her, the storm had stilled — only the faint crackle of fading magic remained.
She turned toward the wooden cart she'd left at the forest's edge. The crystals clinked as she placed them inside, their faint glow illuminating her determined smile.
Her fingers brushed one, feeling the energy pulse beneath her skin.
"Just a few more," she said softly. "Then Lixia can make her lightning machines again."
She tightened the straps on the cart, the wheels creaking as she began the trek back toward the estate.
---
Meanwhile, far away — in the capital.
Paul Gonzalez walked quietly down the cobbled street, his cloak drawn just enough to blend into the crowd. The late afternoon market buzzed around him — merchants calling out, carriages rumbling by, laughter echoing through narrow lanes.
Beside him, Lisse moved with her usual quiet grace, her hood pulled low to hide her ears. Her emerald eyes, however, were sharp — scanning, watching, protecting.
They stopped before a familiar storefront — the one lined with strange, gleaming devices.
Runic lamps. Frost machines. Compact heating boxes.
And in the window…
A brand-new display model: The Blendstorm 3000™.
Paul's lips curved slightly. "So, she really made a blender."
Lisse tilted her head. "A… what, master?"
He smiled faintly. "Never mind. Something from another time."
---
Inside, the same cheerful shopkeeper greeted them with a bright smile.
"Back again, young sir? Looking to expand your collection?" she teased, recognizing him at once.
Paul's eyes moved across the shelves — toasters, small mana-fueled refrigerators, even a prototype coffeemaker. His chest tightened with something that felt both like nostalgia and ache.
Each of these things — mundane back home — now felt sacred.
Like echoes of a world lost.
He turned toward the shopkeeper. "Do you have anything new from the baron's estate?"
Her expression brightened. "Ah, yes! The baron's daughter and her partner have been quite industrious lately. The new Frostbite 2000™ model just arrived this morning. Comes with ice-cube functionality!"
Lisse's eyes widened slightly. "Ice cubes? In this season?"
The woman laughed. "Convenience knows no season, dear."
Paul chuckled under his breath, that familiar tug in his chest returning.
So, she's still creating.
Still changing this world.
Still her.
He rested a hand thoughtfully on the polished metal of a toaster, feeling the faint hum of magic — and the faint trace of a soul he might once have known.
Lisse glanced at him, her voice low and careful. "Master… are these inventions important to you?"
He hesitated — then smiled softly.
"They remind me of someone," he said quietly. "Someone who never gave up on the future."
---
As the shopkeeper boxed his order — one Frostbite 2000™ unit and an Espresso Arcana prototype — Paul's gaze flicked toward the window.
The sky was starting to turn violet with dusk.
Somewhere, he imagined a girl with black hair and pink eyes, standing amid the forest storm, gathering crystals under the fading light.
His heart tightened.
If it really is you…
Then fate's not done with us yet.
He paid the coins, thanked the merchant, and stepped out into the evening air — Lisse following quietly behind.
A soft wind brushed past, carrying the faint scent of ozone — and, for a fleeting second, a shimmer of pink light danced across his vision.
A single butterfly — glowing faintly pink — drifted down, then vanished as quickly as it came.
Paul paused, breath catching.
"…Noona?" he whispered.
But the butterfly was gone.
Only the hum of the capital remained.
He smiled faintly, adjusting the satchel with his new "modern" purchases.
"Let's go, Lisse," he said softly. "We've got a refrigerator to install."
Lisse blinked. "A… what?"
Paul chuckled under his breath. "You'll see."
And as the last light of day faded behind the rooftops, two paths — one of invention, one of rediscovery — quietly began to draw closer.
Sooner or later… they would meet again. ⚙️🦋⚡
---
💥♨️: Sparks and Steam
The sun had long since climbed past noon when Lena arrived at the mouth of Lixia's workshop — or, as everyone else in town called it, "the dungeon."
Steam hissed faintly from pipes that ran along the stone walls, vanishing into vents that exhaled soft, warm air. The faint scent of metal and citrus oil hung in the air — the signature of Lixia's peculiar cleaning concoction.
Lena adjusted the basket of fruit in her arms and called out, voice echoing down the narrow stairwell.
"Lixia! I brought snacks and your missing electric crystals!"
No answer.
Just the faint whirr-click-hiss of machinery somewhere below.
Lena sighed, puffing a stray strand of black hair from her eyes, and descended the winding steps.
---
The workshop was as she remembered: half a laboratory, half a mad inventor's dream. Tables lined with copper coils, blueprints pinned everywhere, and glowing jars of crystalized mana lighting the room like soft lanterns.
In the middle of it all sat Lixia — her silver hair in a messy bun, goggles perched on her forehead, grease smudged across her cheek. She was hunched over what looked suspiciously like a washing machine… except this one had rune circles carved into its lid and a small thunderbird feather stuck to its control panel.
"Lixia," Lena called, exasperated but fond. "You haven't eaten, have you?"
The vampire inventor didn't even look up. "Food is a mortal distraction. I am on the verge of domestic evolution."
Lena set down the basket with a soft thump. "You said that when you built the self-heating bathtub that exploded."
Lixia's eyes gleamed. "That was data."
Lena pinched the bridge of her nose. "You mean a disaster."
"Semantics."
The younger girl laughed softly, shaking her head. "Well, here—" she reached into the cart and lifted one of the softly glowing purple shards. "Your electric crystals, freshly harvested. Try not to electrocute yourself this time."
That got Lixia's full attention. Her fangs glinted as she grinned. "Perfect! These will make the circuit flow stable. Do you realize what this means?"
Lena deadpanned, "That I'll finally get my mana-powered toaster?"
"Yes! And also," Lixia's eyes gleamed dangerously, "perhaps… a fully functional refrigeration box."
Lena's pink eyes sparkled. "Ice cubes!"
"Exactly. Civilization reborn!"
They both burst into laughter — one soft and musical, the other slightly manic.
---
As Lixia carefully slotted the crystals into the core of her latest contraption, Lena wandered the room, touching the half-finished inventions with fond amusement.
A mana-powered blender hummed quietly in one corner. A hair dryer prototype (with a few scorch marks) sat cooling beside a kettle that whistled faintly of ozone.
She glanced back at Lixia, who was tightening screws with an expression of scientific rapture.
"You know," Lena said softly, "sometimes I think you enjoy the process more than the result."
The vampire paused, then smiled — a rare, warm curve of lips. "Perhaps. But isn't the process what keeps us alive? Creation, failure, discovery. It's all the same heartbeat."
Lena tilted her head. "Spoken like a philosopher."
"Spoken like an engineer," Lixia corrected, winking.
---
A minute later, the device gave a small, promising hum. Runes flickered across its sides, glowing a bright electric violet.
Lena leaned closer, eyes wide. "It's working?"
Lixia straightened, hands on hips. "Of course it's working. Did you doubt me?"
"Last time, it exploded."
"That was version one. This is version two."
"Uh-huh."
Lixia flipped a switch. The machine shuddered, sparks flaring—then settled into a steady rhythm.
"Behold!" Lixia declared proudly. "The Spark-Driven Culinary Unit! Capable of generating controlled lightning currents for heating, blending, and mild electro-therapy!"
Lena blinked. "…You made a multifunctional toaster-blender that can also electrocute people?"
"It's called efficiency!"
Before Lena could reply, the machine emitted a cheerful ding!
Both froze.
"…That's new," Lena said.
A puff of pink smoke erupted from the side panel, followed by a faint sizzling noise. Then, the smell of… slightly toasted apples.
Lena lifted the lid gingerly. Inside sat her fruit basket, neatly caramelized.
She blinked. "…Okay, I admit — that's impressive."
Lixia pumped a fist. "Progress!"
"Accidental pie filling, but progress."
---
The two worked together for the rest of the afternoon — testing runic circuits, stabilizing mana flows, and laughing each time something sparked or smoked.
By the time evening light slanted through the workshop windows, Lena sat cross-legged on the floor, eating warm fruit slices while Lixia scribbled design notes furiously.
"Once I refine this model," Lixia said, tapping her pen, "we can power an entire kitchen. Maybe even a workshop."
Lena smiled, gazing at the faint glow of the electric crystals. "And maybe one day, people won't have to fear lightning. They'll cook with it."
Lixia looked up, eyes glinting. "That's a beautiful thought, Lena."
"Thanks."
The vampire inventor leaned back in her chair, finally allowing herself to relax. "You really do bring out the strangest ideas in me."
Lena chuckled. "Says the one who thought a washing machine needed a thunderbird feather."
"Art requires vision."
They laughed again — the sound mingling with the low hum of machinery and the fading light of dusk.
Outside, the last of Lena's butterflies — one she hadn't dismissed — fluttered quietly past the window, glowing faintly pink before fading into the gathering night.
---
🌟🏘️: The Night of the Glowing Manor
Night had settled peacefully over House Dunham—crickets chirping, servants quietly finishing their evening routines, and the faint glow of lanterns flickering along the halls.
It should've been an ordinary evening.
Should've.
Until the lights exploded.
—
A blinding flash tore through the manor's west wing, followed by a deep bzzzzzzzt! that made every chandelier hum like an angry swarm of bees. The once-sleepy halls burst into radiant chaos as every metal surface began to glow faintly blue, crackling with sparks of mana.
The butler screamed. The maids screamed. Someone fainted near the staircase.
From the study, Baron James Dunham shot to his feet, tea spilling over his paperwork.
James: "By the Saints—what in the blazes is that?"
Amelia, his wife, stood by the window, her expression unreadable as the garden outside briefly illuminated like daytime.
Amelia: "If I didn't know better, I'd say the heavens are having a fit."
The chandeliers above them began to flicker erratically.
James: "The manor's possessed! Sophie! Fetch the holy water! And get the priest—no, two priests!"
Sophie came running into the study, her usually composed face pale.
Sophie: "My lord, the east corridor is glowing! And the silverware drawer is humming—like it's singing!"
James: "We're under attack by spirits! Where's my sword?!"
Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Dear, you haven't used that sword since the boar incident."
James: "It's still sharp!"
The manor shook slightly as another surge of light rippled through the walls, making the curtains flutter.
Servants darted about, shrieking about "haunted light" and "angry ancestors," while the family portraits glowed eerily from residual mana discharge.
And then—
The front door creaked open.
Lena stepped inside, a crate of purple electric crystals balanced in her arms, eyes widening at the pandemonium.
"…I was gone for one evening."
A maid rushed past her, clutching a broom like a weapon.
"L-Lady Lena! The manor—it's alive!"
Lena blinked, then sighed deeply. "Oh no."
She sprinted toward the west wing—the source of the disturbance—and sure enough, the entire area pulsed with electric light. Sparks leapt along the floor, and the faint hum of machinery could be heard behind a reinforced wooden door.
"Lixia!" Lena shouted. "Please tell me you didn't—"
BZZZZZZZZZZZZT!
The door flew open in a blast of pinkish-blue light, revealing Lixia standing in the middle of the workshop-turned-lightshow, her goggles glowing from reflected energy.
Her hair was standing slightly on end.
Lixia: "Good news and bad news!"
Lena, deadpan: "…Start with the bad."
Lixia: "I may have accidentally amplified the mana grid's current while testing the Spark Unit's range."
Lena: "And the good?"
Lixia grinned sheepishly. "We now have wireless electricity!"
Behind her, a broom floated briefly in the air before collapsing in a puff of smoke.
Lena facepalmed. "You lit up the entire estate!"
Lixia: "Only temporarily! Probably!"
Another spark snapped from a pipe overhead, causing both of them to duck.
Lena set down the crate with a huff and rolled up her sleeves. "Alright, move aside before my father tries to exorcise the dining room."
She traced a quick circle in the air, summoning a cluster of soft pink butterflies. They fluttered upward, shimmering with gentle light that countered the harsh electrical crackle. With graceful flicks of her wrist—almost like a dancer conducting a quiet symphony—the butterflies dispersed into the circuitry, stabilizing the flow.
The workshop's glow dimmed. The humming softened.
And finally… silence.
The manor's halls darkened back to their normal warm glow.
---
Moments later, the Dunham couple and several servants cautiously peeked into the west wing—braced for ghosts or explosions.
Instead, they found Lena calmly fanning smoke away while Lixia adjusted a rune dial with the faintest air of embarrassment.
James blinked. "Lena? Miss Lixia? What—what in the world just happened?"
Lena rubbed the back of her neck, laughing nervously. "Um… technical difficulties?"
Lixia added helpfully, "Innovative progress, my lord."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Your 'progress' nearly turned the manor into a lightning storm."
"Just a minor feedback surge!" Lixia said brightly. "Perfectly normal for early-stage inventions!"
The baron's expression darkened. "Early stage… of what, exactly?"
Lena quickly interjected. "A home improvement project!"
Sophie blinked. "That glows?"
"And hums," added a trembling butler from behind her.
Lena smiled sheepishly. "It's… mana-efficient."
Lixia, ever the scientist, crossed her arms proudly. "Soon your manor will be the first in the kingdom to enjoy consistent light without oil lamps. Think of the innovation! The prestige!"
James rubbed his temples. "And the heart attacks."
Amelia sighed but couldn't quite hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "At least warn us next time, dear."
Lena nodded. "Yes, ma'am. No more surprise lightning."
Lixia, muttering: "Technically, it was controlled plasma."
"Lixia."
"…Right. Lightning."
---
By the time the household settled down, the servants had stopped whispering about curses and started bragging about living in the "brightest house in Beltran."
Lena leaned against the workshop doorframe, watching Lixia tweak the machine's controls under the glow of the last few electric crystals.
"You know," she said quietly, "you really did it. Light without fire."
Lixia smiled faintly, eyes soft despite the smudges on her cheeks. "And you kept me from blowing up your family's estate."
Lena laughed. "Teamwork."
Outside, the stars blinked faintly over the now calm, softly glowing manor — and one last pink butterfly drifted out the window, disappearing into the night like a tiny spark of peace after the storm.
---
🌄⚡: The Morning After the Lightning Incident
The morning sun filtered through the manor windows, warm and golden—like the world itself was trying to pretend the previous night hadn't happened.
If you ignored the faint scorch marks along the west corridor and the lingering smell of singed curtains, it almost worked.
Almost.
Baron James Dunham stood in the middle of the dining room, staring up at the ceiling with the grim focus of a man inspecting the aftermath of war.
James: "...It's still humming."
Indeed, the chandelier above him gave off a faint, rhythmic bzzzzt, like a nervous bee that refused to leave.
Across the table, Amelia stirred her tea with a calm grace that only years of marriage to this man could have cultivated.
Amelia: "At least the lights still work, dear."
James: "Work? They possessed the house last night!"
He jabbed a finger toward the ceiling.
James: "That contraption nearly fried the portrait of Grandfather Dunham! The man already looked grim enough without his hair crackling from residual mana!"
A faint pop came from the wall socket. Both parents flinched.
Then, from the far end of the hall, came the light sound of footsteps.
Lena peeked in with her best "innocent child who absolutely didn't enable last night's chaos" expression.
Behind her trailed Lixia—hair neat this time, goggles perched around her neck, carrying a small tray of metal components and blueprints.
Lena: "Good morning, Father! Mother! We, uh... came to explain."
Amelia set down her cup, tone pleasantly curious. "Explain or justify?"
Lixia, choosing diplomacy, gave a courteous bow. "Good morning, my lord and lady. I'd like to present my deepest apologies for last night's… rather dazzling demonstration."
James folded his arms. "Dazzling? My heart nearly stopped."
Lixia's smile didn't waver. "Then the system's luminosity exceeded expectations! An excellent sign for refinement!"
Lena hissed softly: "Lixia—less mad scientist, more apologetic genius, please."
"Oh. Right."
Lixia cleared her throat. "I mean—there were... unforeseen reactions in the mana grid. But I've already modified the conduit."
She set her tray on the table, spreading out the new plans.
James eyed them warily. "Modified... how?"
Lixia beamed. "By installing a stabilizer that prevents overcharge feedback. It'll regulate the mana flow evenly throughout the household. Safe, efficient—and perfectly flame-free."
She pressed a small rune button on a miniature device.
The lamp beside them flickered—then lit with a steady, soft glow. Not too bright, not buzzing. Just calm, golden light.
The room collectively exhaled.
Amelia smiled, clearly impressed. "That's... quite something, Miss Lixia."
Lixia brightened visibly. "Thank you, my lady. My goal is to make daily life easier, especially for households without strong elemental users."
James's expression softened slightly—but he still poked the device with the tip of his quill. "And you're certain it won't explode this time?"
Lixia, solemnly: "Ninety-nine percent certain."
Lena: "Lixia—"
Lixia quickly added, "Ninety-nine point eight!"
Amelia chuckled behind her teacup. "I like her."
James sighed, rubbing his temples. "Lena, my dear, I appreciate your interest in these... 'modern inventions,' but next time, please inform me before you turn the estate into a lightning festival."
Lena's lips curved into a sheepish smile. "Yes, Father. No more surprise light shows."
Lixia hesitated, then added quietly: "Though, if you'd allow me, I could install smaller mana conduits in the kitchen—safer ones. Perfect for more... convenient cooking."
Amelia perked up immediately. "You mean, faster meals?"
Lixia nodded. "And more precise heating. You could boil, sear, or bake without constant flame control. Just a few runic switches."
James blinked. "Runic... what now?"
Lena leaned in, excited. "Father, imagine it! No more servants burning themselves with oil or fire crystals. Lixia's inventions could change everything for the manor!"
Amelia glanced at her husband, eyes twinkling. "Well, dear? It does sound practical."
James groaned—the sound of a man losing an argument before it even began. "Fine. But if the kitchen glows like the moon again, I'm moving into the stable."
Lena beamed. "Deal!"
Lixia smiled too, bowing politely. "You won't regret it, my lord. I promise this one won't hum."
The chandelier, as if on cue, gave a faint bzzzt.
Everyone froze.
Lixia coughed. "...After I fix that."
---
Later that afternoon, as the household calmed and the new kitchen project began, Lena stood beside Lixia in the workshop, both of them surrounded by blueprints, gears, and humming mana crystals.
Lena: "You know... my parents are starting to like you."
Lixia smiled faintly, her red eyes glowing just enough to catch the sunlight through the window. "Let's hope they keep liking me once they learn how I actually power these machines."
Lena eyes narrowed, leaning against the table. "One thing at a time, genius."
Outside, the Dunham estate stood peacefully again—its lamps glowing steady and warm, no longer haunted or buzzing.
At least, not until Lixia started testing refrigeration.