Hao Kai leaned back in the chair, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. He glanced up at the patched roof, the crooked walls, and the warped floorboards beneath his boots.
The little house creaked with every breeze. The shutters rattled faintly in their frames. A drop of something cold landed on his cheek from above, and he scowled. The roof again.
"Lyra," he called lazily.
She walked in reluctantly.
"What?"
"Let's renovate the house."
She gasped. "What?!"
He gestured vaguely to the ceiling.
"This place is falling apart. The roof leaks, the windows barely shut, and half the floorboards are rotting. If we don't fix it before the rains come, we'll wake up swimming one day."
Lyra blinked, clearly thrown.
"I don't have the coin for that."
Hao Kai reached into his satchel and pulled out the leather pouch William Slade had given him. It landed on the table with a soft clink, gold spilling the faintest shine into the room.
"But I do."
Lyra stared at it like it was a nest of vipers. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because," she said flatly, "it's too much. This is the first time you've brought home anything close to real coin and you want to throw it all away? Leon, no."
Hao Kai raised an eyebrow. "Throw it away? I call it investing. Do you like living in a house where the wind whistles through the walls and have to bail water out of the hallway every time it rains?"
Lyra hesitated. "It's manageable."
"But I don't want to live manageably." He leaned forward, voice softening just slightly. "Lyra, this house isn't just old. It's unsafe. The foundation is cracked in places, the roof's one strong storm away from caving in, and don't even get me started on that kitchen door that refuses to stay on its hinges."
She turned her back to him, clearly hoping to shut the conversation down. "We've managed this long."
"And what about next season? Or the one after that? What happens when the patched roof gives way while you're asleep?"
That gave her pause, though she tried not to show it.
"I'd rather live in a house we can trust," Hao Kai pressed, keeping his tone calm and steady. "I'm not asking. I'm doing it."
Lyra spun to glare at him, hands on her hips. "Oh, you're doing it? With what? My permission?"
"No," Hao Kai said evenly, "with my gold."
Silence stretched between them for a moment, thick and tense. Then, finally, Lyra sighed and slumped against the counter.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
"That's not a no," Hao Kai pointed out.
She shot him a sharp look, but didn't argue further. That was as close to permission as he was going to get.
By midday, Hao Kai had found a small team of builders.
The workers arrived the next morning: six sturdy men with sun-darkened skin, rough hands, and efficient movements. They didn't waste time gawking at the tiny house or lecturing him about costs. Hao Kai appreciated that.
"Three days," their foreman, a grizzled man named Joran, said bluntly, after inspecting the house from roof to foundation. "That's how long it'll take. You'll need to clear out."
Hao Kai glanced at Lyra, who looked like she wanted to protest, then back at Joran. "Three days is fine. What's the price?"
When Joran named it, Lyra actually choked. Hao Kai didn't flinch. This time, he was going to actually enjoy the money he makes.
"Done," he said, and handed over an advance.
They packed up what little they owned into two travel bags, moving the essentials into an inn just a few streets over.
The inn wasn't extravagant by any means. Creaky beds, stale sheets, and a persistent smell of fried onions clinging to the walls. But at least it was dry and had a roof that didn't threaten to collapse.
Lyra sat on the narrow bed that night, arms wrapped around her knees. "We shouldn't be spending this much," she muttered for the sixth time. "We could've used the money to buy better clothes, or put food away for the winter, or—"
"Or," Hao Kai interrupted, leaning against the windowsill with his arms crossed, "we could live somewhere that doesn't try to kill us every time the weather changes. Stop thinking small, Lyra."
She frowned up at him. "Easy for you to say when it's not your money being wasted."
"It is my money," he reminded her calmly. "And it's not wasted. You'll see."
She huffed and turned away, muttering something under her breath about "irresponsible brothers."
Hao Kai smiled faintly to himself and let the matter drop.
The next three days were chaos.
From dawn to dusk, the workers hammered, sawed, and shouted directions at one another. The old, patched roof came down in pieces, replaced with clean, sturdy boards sealed against the rain.
The warped floorboards were ripped up entirely, replaced with polished planks that didn't groan when you stepped on them.
The walls were reinforced and smoothed, the windows fixed so they shut tightly against wind and cold. Even the kitchen door was replaced with a solid oak frame and sturdy lock.
Lyra hovered constantly, biting her lip every time she heard a crash or saw a particularly large bill of timber being carried in.
"Three whole days," she muttered at least once an hour. "We're paying them enough to rebuild the entire house."
Hao Kai, meanwhile, barely blinked as each coin left his hand. He stayed nearby during the renovations, speaking little, occasionally asking questions about structural work or materials.
By the end of the third day, the little house barely resembled the one they'd left.
When Joran came to collect the remainder of his payment, Lyra handed over the pouch with a pained expression, like she was personally bleeding coin.
"Sturdy work," Joran said gruffly, giving Hao Kai a short nod. "Won't leak, won't creak, won't rot for a good twenty years if you take care of it."
"That's all I ask," Hao Kai replied, satisfied.
When the workers finally left, Hao Kai and Lyra stood in the doorway, staring into their newly refurbished home.
The walls were smooth and freshly plastered, clean and warm against the flicker of lamplight. The floor no longer dipped and sagged beneath their feet. The windows gleamed. The roof no longer groaned under every gust of wind.
Lyra let out a slow breath. "It's beautiful," she admitted reluctantly.
"Told you," Hao Kai said simply.
She turned to glare at him half-heartedly. "You also spent nearly every coin you just earned."
He shrugged, dropping onto the new chair with a soft sigh. "Then I'll earn more."
Lyra stared at him for a long moment before finally sinking onto the bed with a soft laugh.
"You're ridiculous," she murmured, but there was no heat in her words.
That night, Hao Kai lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The new roof didn't creak, didn't leak, didn't threaten to drop dust in his face. For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt settled.
He smiled faintly to himself.
Yes, he was broke again. Yes, he'd basically wiped out Slade's payment in a single decision. But the house was solid, safe, and theirs.
And for now, that was enough.