The sun hung low over the Linden house, painting the porch gold and pink. Voices drifted inside, echoing off the walls.
"I totally got the best score in math!"
"No way! I beat you by three points!"
"I memorized the whole table!"
Elior followed Mrs. Linden through the front door, silent as ever.
He froze for a moment in the living room.
On a pedestal stood an ancient vase, glaze glinting in the sunlight. He picked it up carefully, fingers tracing the delicate cracks.
"Qing Dynasty," he said calmly.
The door burst open. A laugh rang out.
Elior set the vase down and looked up.
Three girls stood in a row, awkwardly arranged but impossible to ignore.
The first, taller, had long black hair partially covering her eyes.
She wore a simple grey tee and black jeans, yet every move radiated quiet, effortless presence.
The second had medium-length hair tied in a messy bun, a loose olive sweater over denim shorts.
Glasses crooked, mouth twitching as if she wanted to roll her eyes at everything at once.
Sharp, calculating, beautiful in her own way.
The third was smaller, with a short bob, wearing a pink hoodie and shorts.
A water bottle dangled from one hand.
Big black eyes, pink lips, innocent and curious but still observing everything.
"Who are you?" they all said together.
Elior blinked. Black hair fell into his eyes.
"…Elior," he said softly.
The girls stared.
Mrs. Linden smiled and gestured toward them. "Elior, these are your sisters."
Mr. Linden stepped forward, nodding at each.
"This is Siora," he said, pointing to the tall, black-haired girl.
"Vanya," he continued to the one with the messy bun.
"And Lumi," he finished, gesturing to the bob-haired girl with the water bottle.
"Brother!" they echoed, each in a different tone—unhappy, delighted, curious.
Elior's black hair slipped over his eyes as he took them in.
Three girls. One of me. Fun already starting, he thought.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
I think I'll stay.
===
Dinner was an ambush disguised as a meal.
Elior sat at the table, hands folded, black hair falling over his eyes. Calm. Small. Innocent-looking. Cute. Deadly if you knew better.
Siora leaned in, finger stabbing the air. "Rule one. I go to college. You. Do not. Touch my stuff. Ever. I will know."
"Understood," Elior said, calm as a courtroom judge. "Property remains untouched. Noted."
Vanya snorted, arms crossed, glare sharp. "Rule two. Do not annoy me. Do not stare. Do not say anything weird. And do not be a perv. Capiche?"
"Crystal clear," he said, flat, precise, like reading terms of service no one ever reads.
Lumi bounced, eyes sparkling, water bottle clutched like a life raft. "Rule three! Be a good brother! Don't freak out if I come into your room at night… and hugs! Hugging is mandatory sometimes!"
Elior blinked.
"Hugging… noted. Optional. Not forbidden." A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
Before Lumi could press the test, Vanya yanked her sleeve.
Lumi pouted, muttered, obeyed.
Siora, grinning like she'd just hacked reality, whispered into her phone.
"Friends. Cute brother unlocked." Then she floated upstairs, hair swishing like a parade banner.
Elior stayed seated, calm as ice.
Three sisters.
One him.
Perfect chaos.
Mrs. Linden hid her smile behind clasped hands.
Mr. Linden leaned on the doorway, eyebrows lifted.
You're going to school tomorrow already? he thought. And he's handling this like a pro?
Once the sisters vanished, Mrs. Linden guided Elior to his room.
Small. Cozy. Perfectly his.
A neatly made bed. Desk by the window.
Shelves stocked. Sunlight spilled across the walls, soft and golden.
Elior stepped inside. "Looks… manageable," he said, shrugging.
Mrs. Linden smiled. "It's all yours. Make it home."
He nodded. Then glanced back toward the dining room, imagining three chaotic little faces. Rules laid down. Chaos inevitable. Good. I like it.
For the first time, home felt like something tangible—soft, quiet, and unshakable.
---
Elior sat on his bed, back straight, eyes closed.
Not sleeping.
Just… pretending.
Strategy: invisible, unreactive, survive first night with sisters.
A soft knock.
Shuffle.
Lumi.
"Elior!" she whispered, tiptoeing like she was smuggling dynamite.
"I brought your towels for tomorrow's bath!" She brandished them like a trophy, pigtails bouncing.
He didn't move.
Eyes still closed.
"Mm-hmm," he murmured, voice low and calm.
Lumi's lip poked out.
She leaned closer, holding the towels like they were fragile relics.
"I… I just wanted to make sure you have clean towels. You can't… you can't not have clean towels, right?"
He didn't answer.
Not a flinch, not a twitch.
Deadpan perfection.
Her shoulders slumped.
"Fine…" she muttered, but then paused mid-step. "Wait. Hug?"
Elior stayed motionless.
Lumi rolled her eyes, cheeks puffed, and before he could protest—or not—she threw her arms around him anyway.
No reaction. Zero.
She blinked, tilted her head.
"Good night!" she said cheerfully and darted out, leaving a faint scent of strawberry shampoo in her wake.
Elior exhaled, shoulders loosening slightly.
Survived.
Not three minutes later: knock.
Shuffle.
Lumi again.
"H-Hey! I forgot my water bottle!" She peeked in, eyes wide, hair a messy halo around her face.
Elior didn't open them. "Mm-hmm."
"You're no fun!" she pouted, spinning on her heels and vanishing again.
He finally opened one eye, glanced at the neatly folded towels, then closed it again.
"Managed," he murmured, voice quiet but satisfied.
And in the silence that followed, he let himself imagine the three sisters, little rules and chaos weaving through the house, pouts and hugs in the middle of the night. Somehow… it already felt like home.