Morning arrived softly. Neil awoke in his stone room, the walls faintly warm from the torches burning through the night.
The rough stone kept the cold winds outside, and the room, though simple, always felt like a safe little cocoon.
He folded his sleeping carpet neatly, stretching his arms before heading toward the main lobby.
The moment he opened the half-closed wooden door, a rush of icy wind slapped against his face, making him shiver. He instinctively looked up at the wide open space above—the lobby's uncovered roof.
When he first built the house, he hadn't had any reliable light sources, so leaving the roof open had been the only option. Later, even after he crafted torches, he hadn't closed it.
The reason was simple: air.
The stone walls were unyielding, airtight. The heavy dark oak door sealed perfectly when shut, letting no breeze in or out. Without some form of ventilation, the air would grow stale and suffocating. An open roof had been a compromise.
He'd considered windows once, but a single block of stone was a whole cubic meter. Leaving one open as a "window" would be like carving a hole large enough for a wolf—or worse, a stranger—to step through. The same applied to wooden trapdoors; if left open, anyone or anything could easily pass through.
So the solution back then had been to rely on torches. He placed them in every room and in the kitchen. Torches not only gave light but radiated heat. Even when a door was cracked open and cold winds leaked inside, the rooms stayed warm enough to sleep comfortably.
But now… things could be better.
Neil had been thinking about iron trapdoors. Unlike wooden ones, they couldn't be pushed open. They required redstone power to move. And the small gaps between the iron bars allowed air to circulate while still keeping animals or intruders out.
Now that his supply of iron was healthy, he could also craft lanterns—brighter and steadier than torches, everlasting, and elegant. Two lanterns per room would be enough to flood each space with warmth and light.
His thoughts kept rolling as his feet carried him into the kitchen. Inside, his grandmother and his second aunt, Astrid, were busy at the hearth preparing breakfast.
His mother and first aunt, Seraphina, worked beside them, setting dishes and grinding herbs. The smells of roasted grain and simmering stew filled the air.
Neil was so lost in his daydreams of trapdoors and lanterns that he didn't even notice his mother's eyes on him until she spoke.
"Neil, what's troubling you? You've been frowning since you came in."
He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Ah… nothing serious. I'll tell you all during breakfast."
Soon enough, breakfast was ready. Grandma's clear voice rang through the halls, calling everyone to gather.
Mattresses were laid out on the floor of the kitchen, forming a circle. It was their usual custom: sitting close, shoulder to shoulder, the women passing out steaming bowls of stew and warm bread.
As the family dug in, Grandpa cleared his throat.
"After the meal, we'll train outside," he said, his deep voice carrying weight. "The skies are clear today, and the wind is calm. We can't waste a day like this."
Neil nodded silently. Training was a family ritual. Ever since they settled here, Grandpa and Grandma had insisted that everyone—male or female—learn to fight. Animals attacked without warning, and survival depended on strength.
Thanks to this constant regimen, Neil's body was far sturdier than his age should allow. Compared to his old life, he was stronger, sharper… alive.
"Training!" Lyra's voice broke through his thoughts, full of bubbling excitement. She leaned across the circle, eyes gleaming at Neil. "Hey, Neil, remember—you and I are having a duel today."
Her grin widened as she thought, That's for the ghost stories you told me last night. I'll make you pay for that!
Neil smirked faintly. Of course he knew why she was so eager.
But before any challenge could begin, Neil cleared his throat. "Grandpa, there's something I've been considering. I want to renovate the house."
At once, everyone paused mid-bite, looking at him. Even Lyra's competitive fire dimmed in curiosity.
"Renovate?" Uncle Rhys raised a brow. "You mean… the lobby roof, right? Neil, if you seal it up, there'll be no airflow. We'll suffocate in here."
The others nodded in agreement, murmuring their concerns.
Neil explained carefully, "That's why I want to use iron trapdoors. They let air pass even when shut, and no one can open them without redstone. For the rest of the roof, I'll use stone slabs. It'll keep the weather out while still letting the house breathe. I also plan to replace torches with lanterns. They'll last forever, give more light, and warm the rooms evenly."
The family exchanged uncertain glances. None of them were builders; they could only imagine what Neil described.
Grandpa's voice broke the silence. "Let him do it."
Everyone turned toward him.
"Think about it," Grandpa said. "Since the storm, Neil's hands have built this home, this wall around the village. He never takes a step unless he's sure of it. If he says this will work, then it will."
Emotion caught Neil off guard. His grandfather's trust, so unwavering, warmed him more than any torch could.
"Thank you, Grandpa," he whispered.
One by one, the rest of the family nodded in agreement. Only Lyra groaned, puffing her cheeks.
"So that's why you want renovations! You're just afraid of me and using this as an excuse to escape our duel."
Neil chuckled. "Think what you want, Lyra. You'll still lose next time."
The table erupted in laughter, the heavy moment broken. Breakfast continued with light chatter, and soon after, everyone left the house to prepare for training.
Neil stayed behind, his mind already racing with plans.
He began sketching out the renovation in his head. The lobby roof would take priority: four iron trapdoors, one at each corner, with stone slabs filling the spaces between.
For lighting, a lantern at every corner and one in the middle—five in the lobby alone. Two lanterns in every room, two in the kitchen. That would bathe the entire house in steady warmth.
The wooden main door would be replaced with iron, stronger and secure, though the inner doors would remain wooden for ease of use.
Then another idea surfaced. This morning's breakfast had reminded him that they always ate on the floor. He imagined a proper stone table with matching chairs, crafted from blocks, slabs, and stairs. Placed in the lobby, it would serve as a dining space—and a place for family discussions. It would even clear space in the crowded kitchen.
Next, the kitchen itself. He decided to craft a campfire, one that burned eternally. Collecting firewood every day was tiring and dangerous.
A campfire would solve that, and it was large enough to cook even a whole sheep if needed. Flint and steel could ignite it; iron he already had, and flint he might find near the lake.
But as he thought deeper, his mind strayed to one thing their home lacked completely: a bathroom and toilet.
Every day, the family had to step outside for relief. Bathing was done by wiping the body with hot water and cloths.
In this freezing climate, a full bath could be dangerous without proper drying, risking colds or even hypothermia.
A bathhouse, Neil decided, would be essential in the future. With iron, water systems would be easy, and a campfire could keep it warm for safe bathing.
The toilet, however, posed a dilemma. Could he use hoppers and barrels? Or composters? The thought made him grimace. No… no, that would be terrible. Too smelly. Not yet.
For now, he would set that problem aside.
What mattered was what he could change today.
His mind sharpened into a clear blueprint: a sealed roof with iron trapdoors, lanterns across every room, a strong iron door, a stone dining table, and an eternal campfire. Enough to turn their survival shelter into a true home.
Neil exhaled slowly, his lips curling into a faint smile.
"It's time," he murmured. "Time to begin the renovations."
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