The road to the Maho estate was short, but the golden light of the setting sun made it feel timeless. The carriage rolled along the smooth stone path, the gentle sway of its frame rocking its passengers into a soft quiet. Outside, the towering silhouettes of the estate's outer gates rose into view—iron bars lined with curling ornamental vines, flanked by lantern posts shaped like blooming lilies.
The gates were already open.
It was as if the manor itself had been waiting for them.
The sleek Lumma bird slowed as they entered the courtyard, talons clicking lightly against the cobblestones. Its feathers caught the fading sunlight, streaks of silver shimmer rippling across their bodies like falling stars.
When the carriage came to a gentle halt, Toki was the first to step down. The air here was cooler than in the city, scented faintly with the sweetness of manicured roses that lined the walkway. He ran a hand down the muscular neck of the bird, who let out a low, pleased rumble.
"Good work," Toki murmured, scratching the spot beneath its jaw.
The bird leaned into the touch before turning and striding away toward the stables on its own, feathers swaying in a dignified rhythm.
Kandaki stepped out next, Hana still asleep in his arms. His eyes immediately went wide as he took in the sight of the manor—four stories of pale stone and dark wood trim, its slanted roof catching the last fire of the sun. The building stretched wide, with tall arched windows that reflected the glowing sky, and the intricate Victorian moldings made the walls look almost like they had been woven rather than built.
"This… is where we're going to live?" Kandaki asked, his voice just barely above a whisper.
Toki nodded with a small smile. "It is. What's wrong?"
"I just…" Kandaki shifted Hana slightly in his arms, careful not to wake her. "I've never seen a place like this except in storybooks. It feels like if I step inside, someone's going to tell me it's all a dream."
Ozvold stepped down from the carriage behind him, hands in his pockets. His gaze swept the building slowly, his usual unreadable face in place. Still, there was a faint glint in his eyes—approval, perhaps, or just curiosity.
"I've seen a few manors in my time," Ozvold said, "but this one has character. The columns, the trims, the way the stone catches the light… Leonard has good taste."
Toki walked up the steps, reaching for the large brass handle of the front doors. "Come on, I'll show you inside—"
He didn't get to finish.
The double doors burst open so violently that the air whooshed past his face, and he had to lean back to avoid getting hit.
"TOKI!" three high-pitched voices cried in unison.
Before he could react, the triplets—Haru, Natsu, and Aki—launched themselves at him like small, well-aimed cannonballs. He staggered back half a step as they clung to him, arms wrapped around his waist, shoulders, even his neck.
"You're back!" Haru squealed.
"And you're a commander now!" Natsu beamed, her arms locked around his left side.
"We knew you'd win!" Aki declared, squeezing his arm so tight it almost went numb.
Toki laughed despite himself, steadying his balance as he looked down at the trio of identical, bright-eyed girls. "Alright, alright, I'm back. But could you at least let me breathe?"
The three loosened their grip but didn't step back. They looked up at him, their excitement barely contained.
Then, as if on some unspoken signal, their attention shifted. All three turned their heads toward Kandaki and Hana.
"Ohhh…" Haru's eyes widened. "Who's that?"
Kandaki froze under their gaze. "Uh…"
Before he could say anything, Natsu darted forward, peering at Hana in his arms. "She's so cute!"
Aki moved to his other side. "Her hair's so soft… Is she sleeping?"
"Yes," Kandaki said, almost defensively.
The triplets leaned in closer, their expressions melting into collective adoration. Haru clasped her hands together. "She's like a little porcelain doll…"
Kandaki shifted uncomfortably under their stares. "Um… can you not get so close? You might wake her."
The triplets pouted but stepped back slightly. Then, noticing Ozvold, they turned toward him.
For a moment, they simply stared. His sharp, morose expression and piercing eyes seemed to pin them in place. None of them dared to approach.
Ozvold, noticing their hesitation, gave them a small smile and raised a hand in greeting. "Good evening."
They all blinked.
"…He's scary," Aki whispered to her sisters.
"I heard that," Ozvold replied flatly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
From the back, Tora stepped into view, arms crossed. "What's with this lack of manners? We greet guests politely, remember?"
The girls groaned in unison. "Yes, Tora…"
Utsuki appeared behind them, her expression calm and unreadable, though her eyes softened when she spotted them. There was no exuberant shout, no sudden embrace—just a quiet nod, the kind that said more than any words could.
"It's good to be home," she murmured.
Before Toki could answer, a familiar deep voice rang out from inside the house.
"Well, look who finally decided to come back."
Leonard emerged from the hall, dressed in his usual tailored attire. Beside him were Yuki and Suzume, both carrying themselves with their characteristic grace.
Leonard approached with long strides, extending a hand. "Toki, my boy." He clapped Toki's shoulder with a firm, approving pat. "I heard the news. Congratulations."
"Thank you, Leonard," Toki said, bowing his head slightly.
"I knew you'd pull it off," Leonard added with a grin.
Then he turned to Ozvold, shaking his hand with the same firm grip. "You must be the right hand I've heard about. I expect you'll keep him out of trouble."
"I'll do my best," Ozvold replied evenly.
Leonard then offered a hand to Kandaki, whose eyes went a little wide at the nobleman's composed, refined demeanor.
"And who's this?" Leonard asked.
"Kandaki," the boy stammered, shifting Hana in his arms before shaking the offered hand.
"A good grip," Leonard remarked. "And a careful one. I like that."
Kandaki swallowed, unsure whether to be relieved or more nervous.
Then Yuki stepped forward. She didn't shake hands—she simply reached up and tugged sharply on Toki's ear.
"Hey—!" Toki yelped.
"Just because you're a division captain now doesn't mean you're off kitchen duty," Yuki said with narrowed eyes.
"I've been a little busy—"
"No excuses." She turned, already walking toward the kitchen. "Come on."
"But—"
She glanced over her shoulder with a look that brokered no argument.
With a resigned sigh, Toki followed. "Yes, ma'am…"
Suzume stepped forward, offering the rest of the group a gentle smile. "The dining hall is ready. This way, please."
Utsuki glanced at Kandaki, then at Hana still sleeping peacefully. "You should let her rest in one of the guest rooms first," she suggested softly.
"That would be good," Suzume agreed. "Follow me, and I'll prepare a place for her."
The group began to move inside, the cool air of the manor washing over them as the door closed behind. The polished wooden floors gleamed beneath the soft light of crystal chandeliers, and the faint scent of baked bread and roasting herbs drifted from the kitchen down the hall.
The kitchen of Manor had always been a world unto itself—warm, fragrant, and alive with the quiet music of knives against cutting boards, the soft hiss of steam, and the occasional bubbling from a simmering pot. Even when the rest of the house seemed silent, the kitchen had its own pulse.
Toki stood at the long wooden counter, a paring knife in one hand and a potato in the other. The overhead light cast a soft glow across the surface, making the freshly washed vegetables gleam faintly. He peeled with slow, careful strokes, each curl of skin falling into the scrap bowl with a soft thwap.
Across from him, Yuki stirred a large pot of soup with a steady, practiced rhythm. The steam rose in twisting ribbons, carrying the scent of leeks, carrots, and slow-cooked chicken. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms dusted faintly with flour from earlier.
It was a quiet scene—almost domestic—and that was exactly what made something inside Toki feel… odd. Not bad. Not unwelcome. Just… nostalgic.
His mind wandered back to the first time he had set foot in this very kitchen, years ago. The look Yuki had given him then—half daggers, half outright disgust—was burned into his memory. She had treated him like an intruder who'd wandered into a sacred space, someone barely worth acknowledging except to tell him to get out.
And now? She hadn't told him to leave. She hadn't even rolled her eyes when he picked up the knife. That, in Yuki-terms, was practically an affectionate welcome.
"You know," Toki said in a light, teasing tone as he ran the blade under the skin of another potato, "I think you might've missed me."
Yuki didn't look up from the soup. "Mm. The last two days without you have been blessedly quiet."
He feigned a wounded expression. "Ouch. Straight to the heart."
She gave the soup another slow stir before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Still… I suppose it's not the worst thing having a jester around when I need a laugh."
Toki let out a low chuckle. "I'll take that as high praise."
"Don't. It isn't."
They fell into a companionable silence for a few moments—the scrape of the knife, the soft bubble of the pot, the occasional faint sound of footsteps from somewhere else in the manor.
Then Yuki spoke again, her voice more businesslike. "So… from now on, you'll be heading to the capital every day? Training your division?"
"Most days," Toki replied. "Why?"
"Because it means I'll have to find another idiot to take over your chores."
He smiled faintly at the potato in his hands. "Don't worry. I'll try to get my work done before I leave in the mornings. Besides…" He glanced at her with mock gallantry. "How could I leave a lady in distress to do all the hard work alone?"
Yuki arched an eyebrow. "Lady? Since when am I a lady to you?"
"Since I realized you might actually not stab me for saying it."
Her lips twitched, but she hid it by leaning over the pot to taste the broth.
"In exchange for my noble sacrifice," Toki continued, "I only want one thing."
Yuki's stirring slowed. She shot him a narrow look. "If it's anything perverted, you're the next ingredient in this soup."
He held up his free hand defensively. "Nothing like that. I just… want you to keep an eye on the kids for me."
Yuki blinked. "The ones you brought here without asking anyone?"
"Yeah," he admitted, his tone losing its playful edge. "I know it wasn't exactly polite. But I think I can give them a better life here. Hana can help with the cleaning when she's old enough. And Kandaki—when he's not training with me—could give you a hand in the kitchen."
She didn't respond right away. She kept stirring, her eyes on the slow swirl of vegetables in the pot.
But Toki didn't need her to say anything. He could read her well enough by now—the small lift of her brow, the slight relaxing of her shoulders. She wasn't against it.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
Yuki didn't acknowledge the thanks. Instead, she asked, "And the capital? How is it?"
Toki hesitated for a moment before answering. "Heavy. The city, the palace… everyone looks at me like I'm some kind of all-powerful figure. Like I can't make mistakes. It's exhausting."
"Mm." Yuki tasted the soup again, then reached for the salt. "So being here makes you feel… what? Normal?"
"Yeah," he said, smiling faintly. "Here, you remind me I'm just a guy who barely knows how to peel potatoes."
"That's because you are." She shook a pinch of salt into the pot. "At best, you operate at the bare minimum level required for survival."
He laughed under his breath, not offended in the slightest. "Good. Keep telling me that. Makes it easier to breathe."
Dinner passed in a happy blur of clinking dishes, warm laughter, and the occasional mock argument over who would get the last slice of bread. The scent of roasted vegetables and fresh herbs lingered in the air long after the plates began to empty.
When the last cup had been drained and the final crumbs swept aside, Toki stood from the table, stretching his shoulders. He was ready to retreat to his usual evening routine—perhaps a quiet moment by himself, or a short walk in the courtyard.
But before he could take more than two steps, the triplets intercepted him.
"Read us a story!" Haru chirped, tugging at his sleeve.
"Yeah, you owe us," Natsu added, crossing her arms in mock severity.
"Because you've been at the capital instead of here," Aki finished, nodding with great solemnity as if she had delivered a final, irrefutable argument.
Toki opened his mouth to protest—but one look at their expectant faces told him resistance was pointless. With an exaggerated sigh of defeat, he nodded.
"Alright, alright. But only one story," he said, though they all knew that "only one" usually turned into at least two.
The girls beamed, victory secured, and immediately clustered around him. As he left the dining hall, they followed close behind—three small shadows in his wake, their footsteps quick and eager.
They trailed him through the dimly lit corridors, past the quiet hum of the kitchen, and toward the library. It was almost comical—like a line of ducklings following their mother, their chatter echoing softly off the walls.
When they reached the great oak doors of the library, Toki pushed them open, letting the warm scent of paper, leather, and polished wood wash over them. The triplets slipped inside without hesitation, already darting toward their favorite reading nook by the tall windows.
Toki shook his head with a smile. Whatever weight the capital had pressed onto his shoulders, here in this moment, it felt a little lighter.