Seven AM.
Sunlight streamed gently through massive floor-to-ceiling windows into this penthouse apartment atop Crescent City. The air carried faint coffee aroma and... barely detectable sweet scent of A+ blood.
Elian reclined on the sofa holding an ancient tome about stellar movements written in archaic elvish. He wore a perfectly tailored silk morning robe, his posture elegant as a medieval painting. Time seemed especially fond of him—except for adding ocean-deep gentleness to those gray-blue eyes compared to five years ago, it left virtually no marks.
The apartment remained the same, but was no longer the cold, empty "safe house" of before.
A cartoon wolf-cub blanket draped carelessly over expensive leather sofas; Lego castle blocks stacked crookedly on previously antique-vase-holding side tables; the priceless minimalist refrigerator door covered with crayon drawings.
One drawing showed a mighty werewolf (with a crown-like "王" character on its head) and an elegant vampire (with two fangs), holding hands with two stick-figure children between them.
This was their home.
"...Papa! Papa!"
Cannonball-energetic shouting accompanied rapid footsteps from the eastern children's room, instantly shattering morning tranquility.
Elian's eyelid twitched imperceptibly.
A roughly five-year-old girl in pink unicorn pajamas with two little ponytails burst out like wind. She was Luna, adopted three years ago from a moon-elf-guarded secret realm on the verge of collapse. She inherited elven affinity for natural energy and... frighteningly excessive vitality.
"Papa! Look look! Sparkles sprouted!" Luna ran to Rafe—wearing a ridiculous "Kiss the Chef Wolf" apron while humming off-key songs and making breakfast for the family—carrying a small flowerpot like treasure.
Rafe turned, laughing as he lifted daughter and pot together, planting a loud kiss on her chubby cheek.
"Wow! Our Luna's 'Glowing Moss' really sprouted! Worthy of my little princess!" He rubbed his stubbled chin against her face, making her giggle.
"Dada! Dada look!" Luna turned toward sofa-bound Elian.
Elian set down his book, examining the small pot. The so-called "Glowing Moss" emitted weak breathing-light radiance. His penetrating eyes easily analyzed this as a low-level magical plant producing unstable fluorescence from absorbing excess ambient natural energy.
But he ultimately showed an extremely subtle, gentle smile.
"Very... beautiful, Luna." His voice was like the richest cello. "It seems your bedtime story about 'Little Bear Finding Honey' worked."
"I knew it!" Luna puffed her small chest proudly.
Then another small, steady figure emerged from the room.
A roughly seven-year-old boy in a perfectly pressed miniature suit wearing rimless glasses. Leo, their eldest son. Human-born but gifted with extremely high psychic abilities—a rare "medium" constitution found once in centuries.
"Good morning, Father, Papa." Leo's vocabulary matched his little-adult attire—precise and meticulous. He approached Elian with a printed A4 sheet.
"Father, here's my compiled report on recent fund flows and personnel changes among European small-scale demon hunter organizations following the Sacred Thorn Knights' destruction."
Elian accepted the report, nodding approvingly. "Excellent work, Leo. Clear logic, highlighted priorities. Though during breakfast time, you could... relax slightly."
"Understood." Leo nodded, then walked toward the kitchen. "Papa, will today's breakfast still strictly follow nutritional ratios? I detected your maple syrup usage exceeded yesterday's standard by 15.7%."
A vein bulged on Rafe's temple.
"Little brat! Did you use your psychic powers to spy on my kitchen again?!" He growled half-exasperated. "Breakfast should be enjoyed! Occasional syrup excess is joy blessed by the Wolf God! Right, my little princess?"
"Right! Lots and lots of syrup! Sweet sweet!" Luna raised both hands in agreement.
Thus began their daily "Breakfast Rigor vs. Joy" debate.
Elian leaned back, quietly listening to the lively argument from one big and two small voices in the kitchen. His heart, silent for three centuries, was now filled completely by these warm yet chaotic "sounds" he'd never imagined.
He thought this might be the true "eternity" Caspian could never understand despite lifelong pursuit.
Breakfast ended with Rafe's "Joy Faction" triumphant.
Luna's face, hands, even hair were covered in maple syrup, transforming into a sticky, happy little kitten. Though Leo complained about "excessive sugar harming morning logic courses," he honestly finished every syrup-drenched bite.
"Alright, little monsters, get dressed! You'll be late for school!" Rafe clapped, beginning cleanup.
They attended no ordinary school, but "Crescent Academy"—jointly funded by the "New Covenant" for various supernatural creature offspring.
Five minutes later, Leo stood ready by the door like a business elite attending meetings, properly dressed with his small backpack.
Luna... had vanished.
"Luna?" Rafe called. No response.
Elian closed his eyes, his powerful senses sweeping the entire apartment like radar.
"...Living room, on the chandelier," he opened his eyes resignedly, pointing at the ceiling.
Luna had somehow strapped on crooked paper-and-glitter butterfly wings, climbing the expensive crystal chandelier like a small monkey, happily dangling her feet.
"Luna Alpha von Castilia!" Rafe nearly transformed in fury, roaring upward. "Get down! Where's your uniform?!"
"Uniform's ugly! Not as pretty as my wings!" Luna spun on the chandelier. "And Sparkles is missing! Can't find Sparkles, won't go to school!"
"Sparkles" was her beloved unicorn plushie enchanted with minor light magic.
"I saw it this morning..." Rafe frantically searched sofas and carpets.
Elian simply looked up at his chandelier-perched daughter, sighing.
Next second, he vanished.
Reappearing beside Luna, holding the unicorn plushie.
"You mean... this?" He offered the toy.
"Sparkles!" Luna squealed joyfully, hugging the plushie and planting a loud kiss on Elian's cold cheek.
Elian's body stiffened, but his eyes nearly overflowed with tenderness.
"However," he tapped her nose with unquestionable tone, "First: chandeliers aren't appropriate play areas. Second: uniforms must be worn. Third: as punishment for hiding 'Sparkles' behind my blood storage thermostatic box on the third cabinet, tonight's bedtime story is canceled."
Luna's face fell instantly.
Ten minutes later.
Two properly dressed, cleaned children finally stood at the door with backpacks.
"Bye Dada! Bye Papa!"
"Father, Papa, have a pleasant day."
As the alloy door closed, the world returned to silence.
Rafe collapsed on the sofa like melted butter, sighing deeply.
"God..." he said weakly. "I'd rather fight a three-headed hellhound than endure another morning like this. Why did we think adopting two was a good idea?"
Elian said nothing. He sat beside Rafe, then quite naturally handed him a delicate container of warm blood.
Rafe paused, then smiled, drinking from his hand.
"How does it taste?" Elian asked.
"Mm... a bit sweet." Rafe smacked his lips, then suddenly leaned forward to peck Elian's lips.
"Now it tastes right," he grinned.
Elian's ears suspiciously reddened.
He looked around the household chaos—syrup-sticky dining table, scattered Lego blocks, the chandelier missing a crystal fragment from Luna's wings.
He remembered himself three centuries ago—sitting alone in that cold, empty castle, battling endless eternal void.
He turned toward the man gazing at him with infinite tenderness, as if looking at his entire world.
Then he actively leaned over, gently resting his head on that broad, warm shoulder.
"Rafe."
"Mm?"
"...Thank you."
Thank you for pulling me from that gorgeous tomb called "eternal life."
Thank you for giving me such a chaotic, noisy, yet... warm home.
Outside, morning light was perfect.
Their story was just beginning its most beautiful chapter.