By the time I returned home, it was already late.
Not midnight late, but the kind of late where the hallway outside the condominium felt quieter than usual, where even the elevator sounded apologetic for moving. My body hated every step from the parking area to the unit. My ribs ached. My shoulder felt like someone had tried to unscrew it and given up halfway. My left palm was bandaged, but the cut beneath still pulsed every time I flexed my fingers. Several bruises had already formed along my arms, and there was probably one on my side that looked worse than it felt.
Probably.
Hopefully.
I was too tired to check.
The hospital had taken Ruruka in immediately. VIP room. Private healer support. Full contamination scan. Mana circuit stabilization. I paid before anyone could ask too many questions because money, while painful, was easier than explanations. Her condition was stable when I left. Still unconscious, but stable. The abyssal residue had been mostly suppressed thanks to the emergency treatment I gave her in the dungeon, and the doctors said an awakener of her level should recover fast if nothing unexpected happened.
I disliked the phrase "if nothing unexpected happened."
Unexpected had been having a busy week.
Aaron stayed behind to deal with the dungeon cores, the field reports, the surviving hunters, the officials, and probably a growing number of questions that would eventually crawl toward me like paperwork with legs. He sent one message before I left the hospital.
Both cores destroyed. Fragments secured. Gate collapse complete. We need to talk soon.
I replied with one word.
Tomorrow.
Then I turned off notifications.
A responsible adult would have stayed available.
A responsible adult was not currently covered in bruises and running on thirty percent power, hospital vending machine coffee, and the memory of Ruruka's blood on his hands.
The condominium door unlocked with a soft click.
I opened it quietly.
The living room lights were on.
Ria was sitting on the couch.
Arms crossed.
Back straight.
Expression cold enough to reduce lesser men into written apologies.
For a moment, I forgot that I was an SSS-level archmage who had sealed the Demon Queen, survived multiple high-rank dungeon anomalies, fought two bosses at once, and carried my half-conscious little sister out of a collapsing merged dungeon.
I stood straighter.
Very naturally.
Very instinctively.
Like a man whose body understood danger before his brain could file the proper complaint.
Ria stared at me from the couch with the face of a wife catching her husband coming home drunk after making every bad decision available to humanity. Her eyes moved from my face to my shoulder, then to my bandaged palm, then to the scuffed edges of my clothes. Every part of her expression seemed to say, Rethink every choice you have made starting from the day you were born.
I swallowed.
"Uhhh… good evening, Ria."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Good evening, Mage."
That was not good evening.
That was a warning disguised as etiquette.
The condominium was quiet behind her. No small footsteps. No Hikari questions. No Karin ambush. No Ruri soft voice from the hallway. The girls were asleep, then. Ria must have tucked them in already.
That thought softened something in my chest.
Then Ria tapped one finger against her arm.
"Do not stand there looking like a guilty criminal. Come in and close the door before the hallway sees your disgrace."
"Right."
I stepped inside and closed the door.
I removed my shoes slowly, mostly because bending hurt and partly because I felt that sudden movements might trigger whatever judgment spell she had prepared. When I looked back, Ria still had not moved from the couch.
"Children?" I asked quietly.
"Asleep."
"Did they eat?"
"Yes."
"Properly?"
"Enough. Hikari required negotiation. Karin attempted to declare herself on door guard duty and refused soup for seven minutes. Ruri pretended she was fine until I threatened to make her sit beside me and be honest."
I paused.
"That worked?"
"Obviously."
"Of course it did."
Ria's gaze sharpened again.
"Ruruka?"
I took a breath.
"She's fine."
Ria did not react immediately.
Not visibly.
But the room changed.
A tiny amount of tension left her shoulders. Barely enough to notice unless someone had spent too much time learning how to survive her moods.
Unfortunately, I had.
"She was still unconscious when I left her at the hospital," I continued. "But stable. The doctors said her injuries are serious, but her recovery rate is strong because she's an awakener and near low S-rank. Abyssal contamination is mostly suppressed."
Ria nodded once.
"Good."
Simple.
Controlled.
But her eyes closed for half a second longer than a blink.
She had been worried.
Not that she would ever admit it unless forced under magical contract.
I considered pointing it out.
Then remembered I wanted to live.
Ria's chin lifted slightly.
"Sit."
I looked at the couch.
Then at her.
Then at myself.
"I should probably wash up first."
"Sit."
I sat.
There were times to resist and times to understand that the former Demon Queen, current temporary mother, legal wife by paperwork, and wielding fifteen percent restored power had decided the conversation would occur now.
This was one of those times.
For some unknown reason, I had the strong feeling that if I did not obey Ria at that moment, she would raise hell. Not school-office hell. Worse. Domestic hell. The kind involving lectures, confiscated coffee, and possibly waking the children so they could say "Papa, why are you hurt?" while staring at me with wet eyes.
I sat carefully on the couch, leaving a reasonable distance between us.
Ria looked at the distance.
Then looked at me.
"Are you afraid I will bite?"
"You might."
"You would deserve it."
"Probably."
She leaned back, still watching me.
"What happened inside?"
I let my head rest against the couch for a moment. The ceiling looked peaceful. Too peaceful. It had no idea what kind of dungeon I had just crawled out of.
"Short version?"
"Detailed enough to matter."
"That sounds like a medium version."
"Mage."
"Right."
I told her.
I kept it brief at first. The dungeon was supposed to be Arcane Structures. Rune Titans, War Constructs, Titan Guardian boss. Predictable A-rank terrain. Instead, halfway across the horizon, an Abyssal Domain had been stitched into it. Arcane monsters and abyssal monsters were fighting each other. Constructs on one side, Abyss Knights and Abyssal Elementals on the other. Wounded hunters trying to escape. Ruruka at the border between terrains, holding off two bosses alone.
Ria listened without interrupting.
That was rare.
Her expression grew sharper with every detail, not shocked exactly, but deeply displeased. When I mentioned the two bosses, her fingers tightened against her arm.
"A Titan Guardian and an Abyss General," I said. "The Guardian was A-rank, but the pressure was pushed higher because of the environment. The Abyss General was high S-rank. If one of them had been special…"
I did not finish.
Ria understood.
She always understood combat too quickly.
"You fought them with the guild master?"
"Yeah."
"The support-type one."
"Mid S-rank support-type. Which means he hits harder than most frontline idiots."
"Did he survive?"
"Yes."
"Useful."
"That's one way to compliment him."
"It is the only one he has earned from me."
I sighed.
"We beat them. Barely. Afterward, two cores appeared. One arcane, one abyssal."
Ria's eyes narrowed.
"Two cores."
"Yeah."
"Not a false core?"
"No."
"Not a hidden replacement?"
"No."
"Two active cores controlling two terrain identities inside one domain?"
"Looks that way."
Ria leaned back, her gaze shifting toward the dark television screen.
"That is wrong."
"You and Aaron keep using that word."
"It applies."
"I know."
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then Ria tapped one finger against her arm again.
"This is not how systems behave," she said. "Even without knowing your world's classifications, I understand enough about mana structures and realms. When incompatible domains meet, they resist each other. They do not simply merge and function together."
I turned slightly toward her.
"Yeah."
"These dungeons," she continued, "your world treats them as if they are natural disasters with assigned categories. Rank. Terrain. Monster type. Boss expectation. Clearing procedure. But from my perspective, their existence is already abnormal."
"That's fair."
"I was in my kingdom. My own realm. Then a rift opened, and suddenly my forces were being dragged into this world's catastrophe. That connection later vanished. I was sealed for three long years thanks to a certain someone."
Her eyes moved to me.
I looked away.
"Technically…"
Ria's stare sharpened.
I stopped.
Good decision.
Technically, she had destroyed the anime studio publishing my favorite slice-of-life anime.
Technically, she had invaded and caused a lot of damage.
Technically, sealing her had been the correct move at the time.
Also technically, saying any of that out loud right now would get me smacked by a former Demon Queen who had tucked my daughters into bed and waited on the couch for me to return.
Some technical truths were better left unemployed.
Ria continued with icy dignity.
"Now I am stuck here with fifteen percent of my power, forced into paperwork, registered as a mother of three, and burdened with a good-for-nothing husband."
She said the last part while glaring directly at me.
I scratched my cheek.
"Paperwork husband."
"Do not correct me."
"Noted."
"Good-for-nothing still applies."
"I saved Ruruka."
"You returned looking as though you were dragged home by wolves."
"Strong wolves."
"Mage."
"Sorry."
She sighed.
Not the annoyed sigh she gave when I said something stupid.
A heavier one.
Then she stood.
For a second, I thought the interrogation was over.
Instead, she walked toward the cabinet near the dining area and opened the drawer where we kept the emergency supplies. She took out the first aid kit.
I blinked.
"Ria?"
She returned, placed the kit on the low table, and opened it with practiced efficiency.
"Remove your coat."
"I can do it myself."
"Shut up and be quiet."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
I removed my coat.
Victory: Ria.
She sat closer, taking my injured hand first. Her fingers were careful as she inspected the bandage. Not gentle in a soft way, but precise. Efficient. The way someone handled a weapon that had been damaged but could still be restored.
"The hospital did this?"
"Emergency medics. I refused full treatment because Ruruka needed priority."
Her eyes lifted.
"You refused treatment?"
"Not all of it."
"Mage."
"I'm fine."
"You are not fine. You are upright through stubbornness and poor judgment."
"That describes many hunters."
"That describes you."
"Also true."
She began unwrapping the bandage.
I hissed before I could stop myself.
Ria paused.
The look she gave me was sharp, but not cruel.
"Pain?"
"Manageable."
"Do not use your sister's lines poorly."
I looked at her.
"You heard that from the dungeon?"
"No. You are simply predictable."
She cleaned the cut with a solution that burned more than I appreciated.
I clenched my jaw.
Ria noticed, of course.
"As a father and a spouse," she said, voice low and stern, "you must not allow yourself to be injured this badly."
I blinked.
"As a spouse?"
"For paperwork purposes."
"Right."
"And for household stability."
"Of course."
"And because our daughters will be sad."
That one ended my next joke before it could leave my mouth.
Ria pressed fresh gauze over my palm.
"If they had seen you enter like this, Hikari would have cried again. Karin would have demanded revenge. Ruri would have asked whether she should prepare medicine while hiding her fear behind that responsible little face."
I looked down at my hand in hers.
She was right.
Annoyingly, completely right.
"I came late because I waited until they were asleep," I said.
"I know."
"You knew?"
"You are not subtle when you are trying to protect them."
"I'm subtle sometimes."
"No."
"Fair."
She wrapped the bandage cleanly.
Then she checked the bruises along my arm and shoulder. I tried not to react when her fingers pressed near my ribs. Failed. Her eyes narrowed.
"Ribs?"
"Bruised. Not broken."
"How certain?"
"Seventy percent."
"Unacceptable."
"Eighty?"
She pressed again.
I winced.
"Seventy was generous," she said.
"You are enjoying this."
"I am assessing damage."
"With vengeance."
"With accuracy."
"Same thing."
Her mouth almost curved.
Almost.
Then her expression grew serious again.
"Tomorrow morning, we visit the swordswoman."
I leaned back.
"The girls will want to see her."
"They already asked."
"Of course they did."
"Hikari asked if Auntie's room at the hospital would have blankets. Karin asked if she could stand guard. Ruri asked what food is best for recovery."
I closed my eyes.
Those girls.
"They didn't cry too much?"
"They cried enough."
Guilt settled heavy in my chest.
Ria continued before it could bury me.
"They also ate. They washed. They slept. Not perfectly, but enough."
I opened my eyes.
"Thanks."
She tied the final bandage knot a little tighter than necessary.
"Ow."
"Do not thank me with that expression."
"What expression?"
"The one that looks like you are about to blame yourself for everything."
I went quiet.
Ria looked at me with cold, elegant impatience.
"You went to save your sister. The children were afraid because they love her. That is not failure."
I stared at her.
She clicked her tongue.
"Do not look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I said something kind."
"You did."
"I said something obvious."
"Same thing."
She glared.
I looked away, but a small smile slipped through.
Mistake.
Ria flicked my bandaged palm lightly.
Not hard.
Just enough.
"Ow."
"Disrespectful mage."
"Former Demon Queen nurse."
"I will worsen the injury."
"Noted."
After she finished patching me up, she stood and closed the first aid kit. I leaned back against the couch, suddenly aware of how exhausted I was. The room felt warm. Quiet. Safe. The smell of dinner still lingered faintly from earlier. The girls were asleep upstairs. Ruruka was stable in the hospital.
Ria stood near the table holding the first aid kit.
Her dress was simple. Her hair was tied loosely. Her expression was still stern, but the sharpness had softened around the edges.
This woman was supposed to be my enemy.
Now she was standing in my living room, scolding me for getting hurt, because our daughters would be sad.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
I shut that thought down immediately.
Too tired for emotional complications.
Too injured.
Too married on paper.
"Go wash up," Ria said. "Then sleep."
"Yes, ma'am."
Her eyes narrowed.
I stood carefully.
She watched me like she expected me to collapse out of spite.
I did not.
Small victory.
As I reached the hallway, she spoke again.
"Mage."
I looked back.
"What?"
"You did well bringing her back."
For a second, I had no response.
Then I nodded.
"Yeah."
Her gaze moved away first.
"Do not let it make you arrogant."
"There it is."
"Go."
I went.
Astrea's POV
The mage looked worse in the light.
Morning exposed what night had softened.
Bruises along his jaw. A faint cut near his temple. Bandages under his sleeve. The way he moved, careful but pretending not to be careful, irritated me more than the wounds themselves. Men like him were tiresome. Powerful enough to alter battlefields, foolish enough to minimize damage because acknowledging pain would inconvenience the household.
He came downstairs wearing clean clothes and an expression that attempted laziness.
It failed.
The children saw through him immediately.
Hikari gasped.
"Papa has ouchie."
The mage froze at the bottom of the stairs.
Karin pointed.
"Papa got hit."
Ruri's hands tightened around the small bag she had prepared for Ruruka.
"Papa, does it hurt?"
The mage looked at me.
As if I would rescue him.
I folded my arms.
He made this situation. He could suffer it.
"It's fine," he said.
All three daughters looked unconvinced.
Good.
They had intelligence.
I walked past him toward the kitchen.
"He is lying."
"Ria."
"He is bruised, exhausted, and too stubborn to admit both."
Hikari's eyes watered instantly.
The mage shot me a betrayed look.
I ignored it because betrayal required innocence.
"However," I added, turning back to the children, "his injuries are not severe enough to prevent him from taking us to your aunt."
That stabilized them.
Hikari sniffed but nodded.
"I'll protect Papa too."
"Papa does not need protection," the mage said.
Karin crossed her arms.
"You got hit."
"That happens in fights."
"Then you need protection."
The mage opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at me.
I lifted an eyebrow.
He sighed.
"Sure."
Ruri stepped forward quietly.
"Papa, I packed water, towels, fruit, crackers, and the card we made."
"Thank you, Ruri."
"Hikari packed tiny spoon."
The mage blinked.
"For Ruruka?"
"Hikari thinks Auntie needs courage."
Karin raised a paper bag.
"I packed cookies."
The mage looked at the bag.
"How many?"
Karin looked away.
"…a lot."
I took the bag from her and inspected it.
Too many.
I removed half.
Karin gasped as if I had performed treason.
"Mama."
"Hospital visits require restraint."
"But Auntie needs energy."
"Auntie needs recovery, not cookie warfare."
The mage muttered, "Cookie warfare sounds familiar."
I looked at him.
He looked away.
Wise.
We left after breakfast.
The children were excited, afraid, impatient, and unable to sit still. A difficult combination. In the backseat, Karin bounced her knees despite Ruri reminding her that seatbelts worked best when one did not attempt to vibrate through them. Hikari held the tiny spoon in both hands and asked every few minutes whether Auntie was awake now. Ruri checked the card at least four times, smoothing the edges carefully each time.
The mage drove.
I sat in the passenger seat.
He looked tired.
I disliked that.
Not because I cared about him.
Obviously.
But because a tired driver was inefficient, and the children were in the vehicle.
Yes.
That was the reason.
"Are you awake enough to drive?" I asked.
"Yes."
"You answered too quickly."
"I'm awake enough."
"If you crash Fluffy, Hikari will be devastated."
Hikari gasped from the backseat.
"Papa, do not crash Fluffy."
"I'm not crashing Fluffy."
"I'll avenge Fluffy."
"No one is avenging Fluffy because Fluffy is fine."
Ruri looked at me through the mirror.
"Mama, should Papa rest after we visit Auntie?"
"Yes," I said.
The mage sighed.
"I am right here."
"Then listen and obey."
"Yes, ma'am."
The children giggled.
The mage looked at me once from the driver's seat. He had the expression of a man who wanted to complain but understood the courtroom had already convicted him. His hand rested lightly on the steering wheel, but I noticed the slight stiffness in his fingers. The wound in his palm still bothered him.
Annoying man.
He had carried his sister out of an S-rank anomaly, refused proper treatment, returned home late, and then acted as though standing upright counted as recovery. Had the children not been in the vehicle, I would have told him exactly how foolish he was in far greater detail.
Unfortunately, the children were present.
Also unfortunately, I was beginning to learn that scolding him in front of them sometimes made them worry more, because they watched both tone and content with frightening accuracy.
Ruri especially.
That child heard the words people did not say.
So I settled for watching him carefully.
The mage noticed, of course.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring like you're planning a funeral."
"If you collapse, I will plan yours with great efficiency."
"That's comforting."
"It was not meant to be."
Hikari leaned forward as far as her seatbelt allowed.
"Mama, Papa cannot have funeral."
The mage's face changed immediately.
I regretted the wording.
Only a little.
"He will not," I said firmly. "Your father is merely being dramatic through poor posture."
"I'm injured."
"You claimed you were fine."
"I can be fine and injured."
"That is stupidity wearing grammar."
Karin nodded seriously from the backseat.
"Mama is right."
"Thank you, Karin."
"Papa needs supervision."
"I agree."
The mage muttered something under his breath.
I heard it.
It sounded suspiciously like "my own family."
Good.
He understood his defeat.
The hospital soon came into view, tall and clean, with wards built into the upper windows and hunter association vehicles parked near the private entrance. It was a facility made for awakened patients, which meant the staff understood broken bones, mana exhaustion, cursed wounds, abyssal contamination, and the idiotic pride of people who claimed they were "manageable" while bleeding through their clothes.
The mage parked Fluffy carefully.
Hikari patted the seat before leaving.
"Good job, Fluffy."
Karin copied her.
"Mission complete."
Ruri smiled softly and gathered the bag she had packed. "Thank you for driving, Papa."
The mage looked at her.
His tired face warmed.
"You're welcome."
He hid his pain better when they were watching.
Not perfectly.
But better.
We entered through the private wing because the mage had apparently paid for that privilege. He complained about the price of fruit, snacks, dresses, school supplies, and repairs to doors he did not break, but when it came to his sister's hospital room, he had selected the best option without hesitation.
Men like him were irritating because they made contradictions look natural.
At the reception desk, the nurse recognized him immediately.
"Mr. Arclight, good morning. Ms. Ruruka Arclight is awake now. The doctor checked her condition about twenty minutes ago."
The children gasped in relief.
Hikari clutched the tiny spoon to her chest.
"Auntie is awake."
Karin pumped her fist.
"Auntie survived."
Ruri lowered her head slightly, visibly relieved.
The mage let out a breath so quietly most would not notice.
I noticed.
"Can we see her?" he asked.
"Yes. Room 702. Please keep the visit calm. She is recovering well, but she still needs rest."
The nurse looked at Karin when she said that.
Karin blinked.
"Why are you looking at me?"
The mage placed a hand on her head.
"No reason."
"There was a reason."
"Yes."
Karin pouted.
We took the elevator to the seventh floor.
The children became increasingly restless with each passing second. Hikari shifted from foot to foot. Karin kept gripping the cookie bag like she might need to use it as emergency morale equipment. Ruri stared at the room numbers as we passed them, counting silently.
When we reached Room 702, the mage paused with his hand on the door.
He looked at the girls.
"Careful, okay? Auntie is awake, but she's still injured."
Hikari nodded quickly.
"I'll be careful."
Ruri nodded as well. "We'll be gentle."
Karin nodded after a second.
"I'll be medium gentle."
The mage looked at her.
"Maximum gentle."
"Fine."
He opened the door.
Ruruka was awake.
She sat propped up against several pillows, one arm in a support sling and bandages visible near her collar, ribs, and shoulder. Her hair was loose, falling over one side of her face. She looked pale. Weaker than usual. Less like the swordswoman who had glared at me in the condominium and more like a person who had survived something she should not have had to survive.
But her eyes were open.
That was enough.
The children bolted.
So much for maximum gentle.
"Auntie!"
"Hikari missed Auntie!"
"I knew Auntie would survive!"
"Please don't move too much," Ruri said, reaching the bedside with anxious care.
The mage moved forward quickly, probably ready to stop them from crashing into the patient, but the children slowed at the last second. They surrounded Ruruka's bed like tiny guardians.
Hikari carefully climbed onto the edge of the mattress near Ruruka's uninjured side.
The mage opened his mouth.
Ruruka lifted her good hand slightly.
"It's okay, Nii-sama."
He closed his mouth, but his eyes remained alert.
Hikari leaned into Ruruka gently.
"Auntie came back."
Ruruka's expression softened in a way I had not seen before.
"Yes," she said. "Auntie came back."
Karin stood at the foot of the bed, scanning every bandage.
"You look terrible."
"Karin," Ruri said immediately.
Ruruka laughed softly, then winced and placed a hand near her ribs.
The entire room reacted.
"Auntie!"
"Don't laugh!"
"Does laughing hurt?"
The mage sighed. "Yes, laughing hurts when you have cracked ribs."
Karin looked horrified.
"I attacked Auntie with truth."
Ruruka smiled through the pain.
"I survived two bosses. I can survive your truth."
Karin looked relieved and proud.
"Good."
Ruri stepped closer and held Ruruka's hand. She did it delicately, as if even affection might hurt if handled poorly.
"Welcome back, Auntie."
Ruruka's smile changed again.
Smaller.
Deeper.
"Thank you, Ruri."
Hikari placed the tiny spoon on the bedside table with great ceremony.
"Auntie can borrow tiny spoon for courage."
Ruruka stared at the spoon.
Then at Hikari.
Her eyes softened dangerously.
"I see. Then I am very well protected."
Hikari nodded.
"Tiny spoon is brave."
"I can tell."
Karin lifted the cookie bag.
"I brought cookies. Mama stole half."
"I rationed them," I said.
Karin turned to Ruruka. "Mama says hospital visits require restraint."
Ruruka looked at me.
"You said that?"
"Obviously."
The mage muttered, "Cookie warfare was avoided."
Ruruka's mouth twitched.
"I'm grateful."
Ruri handed over the card last.
"We made this for you."
Ruruka accepted it carefully.
The card was clearly handmade. Colorful. Slightly uneven. Full of effort.
On the front was a drawing of Ruruka with a sword, standing over a defeated monster that Karin had made far larger than necessary. Hikari had drawn tiny spoon near her shoulder like a sacred companion. Ruri had written the words neatly in the center.
Welcome back, Auntie. Please rest properly.
Ruruka stared at it for a long time.
The mage looked away.
I understood why.
The room had become too warm again.
Uncomfortably warm.
Ridiculous.
A hospital room should not carry this much emotional pressure.
Ruruka held the card against her chest.
"I'll treasure it."
Hikari beamed.
Ruri relaxed.
Karin nodded as if confirming a successful delivery.
The mage walked to the side of the bed and picked up the medical chart.
"Nii-sama," Ruruka said.
"What?"
"You are not my doctor."
"I paid for the room."
"That does not make you my doctor."
"It makes me financially involved."
I crossed my arms.
"That is the most fatherly thing you have said all morning."
He glanced at me.
"Financial pain is serious."
"Your sister is injured."
"I know. That's why the expensive room hurts less than usual."
Ruruka sighed.
Then winced.
The mage immediately looked down at the chart again.
"Two cracked ribs, deep shoulder trauma, abyssal residue burns, mana circuit bruising, and mild internal shock."
Ruruka looked away.
"I feel better than that sounds."
"You always say that."
"So do you."
The children looked at the mage.
He looked at the children.
Then at me.
I smiled faintly.
He sighed.
"I walked into that."
"Yes," I said.
Ruruka watched us with a strange expression.
Too observant.
Annoying family trait.
She looked at me and said, "You came."
I lifted my chin.
"Of course I did."
The words left before I could make them colder.
Ruruka's gaze remained steady.
Then she bowed her head slightly.
"Thank you."
I clicked my tongue.
"Do not thank me with that face, swordswoman. The children wished to see you. I merely accompanied them."
"Mama was worried too," Hikari said.
I froze.
The mage slowly turned his head away, which meant he was smiling and attempting to hide it.
"Hikari," I said carefully.
"Hikari saw Mama looking at the door."
Karin added, "Mama kept checking Papa's phone."
"I checked whether the irresponsible mage had sent updates."
Ruri looked at me with gentle betrayal.
"Mama also prepared Auntie's hospital bag."
"That is called efficiency."
"And soup."
"Nutrition."
"And extra blankets."
"Preparedness."
"And she said Auntie is important."
The room went silent.
Ruruka blinked.
The mage looked at me.
I looked at Ruri.
Ruri looked back with the innocent expression of a child who had simply reported facts.
Powerful.
Too powerful.
I cleared my throat.
"I said you were important to the children."
Ruruka's eyes softened.
"I see."
"Do not misunderstand."
"I won't."
"You are annoying."
"I know."
"Suspicious."
"Yes."
"Overprepared."
"I learned from Nii-sama."
"And yet…" I looked away. "The children would be sad if something happened to you."
Ruruka was quiet for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"Then I'll try not to make them sad."
"Try harder," the mage said.
Ruruka looked at him.
"You too."
"I'm not the patient."
"You should be."
The children turned to him again.
He looked betrayed.
"Can we stop making this about me?"
"No," everyone said.
His shoulders dropped.
It was excellent.
For the next hour, the room became less like a hospital and more like an invasion of care.
Ruri organized fruit slices onto a small plate and made Ruruka eat them slowly. Karin gave a detailed explanation of why the cookie supply had been reduced and accused me of "authoritative theft." Hikari sat beside the bed and told Ruruka everything that happened after the mage left, including how Mama made them eat lunch, how Mama said Papa would reach Auntie, and how Mama promised to show them Auntie was fine.
Ruruka listened carefully.
The mage leaned against the wall, arms loosely crossed, watching all of them. His eyes were tired, but less haunted now.
I noticed him pressing one hand against his side.
I narrowed my eyes.
He noticed me noticing.
Then deliberately stood straighter.
Foolish.
I would deal with him later.
A doctor entered to check Ruruka's condition and immediately faced a room full of judgment.
The mage asked too many precise questions.
"Has the abyssal residue spread since last night?"
"No, it has decreased by roughly sixteen percent."
"Mana circuit bruising?"
"Stable. No new rupture points."
"Rib recovery estimate?"
"Two to four days with ward support."
"Can the healing ward output be lowered at night to avoid mana overload?"
The doctor blinked.
"That is… yes, that is possible."
"Do it."
"Nii-sama," Ruruka said weakly.
"What?"
"You are scaring my doctor."
The mage looked at the doctor.
The doctor smiled nervously.
"I am not scared."
The lie was poor.
I respected him less for it.
"He is scared," I said.
The doctor stiffened.
Karin nodded. "Papa scares people by asking questions."
Hikari added, "Mama scares people by looking."
Ruri thought for a moment.
"Auntie scares people with sword."
Everyone looked at Ruri.
She smiled politely.
The mage nodded.
"Accurate."
Ruruka sighed again, then seemed to remember sighing hurt and stopped halfway.
The doctor finished the checkup quickly and escaped.
Yes.
Escaped.
There was no other word.
After he left, the mage lowered himself into a chair by the window. The movement was too careful. Ruri noticed. Hikari noticed. Karin noticed.
Naturally.
"Papa needs rest," Ruri said.
"I'm sitting."
"That is not the same as resting."
Hikari climbed down carefully from the bed and walked to him.
"Papa, does ouchie hurt?"
He softened immediately.
"A little."
That was the first honest answer he had given all morning.
Hikari took his bandaged hand very carefully and kissed the air above it without touching.
"Hikari healing."
The mage's face went still.
Then warm.
"Thanks."
Karin walked over and stood beside him.
"I won't hug your ribs."
"Appreciated."
Then she hugged his arm instead.
Ruri stood at his other side.
"Papa brought Auntie back."
He looked at her.
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
The mage looked down.
His expression almost broke.
Not completely.
But enough.
I looked away first.
The room had become too warm again.
This family was absurdly dangerous.
Before we left, the children hugged Ruruka one more time, carefully this time. Hikari reminded her to rest. Karin told her to heal quickly so she could inspect the "two-boss strategy." Ruri told her she would bring soup next visit if the hospital allowed it.
Ruruka accepted all of it with a soft smile.
Then she looked at me.
"Ria."
I paused near the door.
"What?"
"Thank you for taking care of them yesterday."
"They are my daughters."
The words came out immediately.
Cleanly.
Without hesitation.
The room stilled.
The mage looked at me.
The children smiled.
Ruruka's expression softened in a way that made me want to leave faster.
"I know," she said.
No challenge.
No suspicion.
Just acceptance.
Annoying swordswoman.
I turned toward the door.
"We are leaving. The patient requires rest, and the mage requires supervision before he collapses in public."
"I'm not collapsing," the mage said.
"You are standing poorly again."
"I'm sitting."
"You are sitting poorly."
Karin squinted at him.
"Papa is sitting tired."
Hikari nodded. "Papa needs couch."
Ruri added, "And soup."
The mage gave up.
"Fine. Couch and soup."
Good.
The ride home was quieter.
Not sad.
Relieved.
The children leaned against each other in the backseat. Hikari held tiny spoon again, but now she hummed softly instead of clutching it with fear. Karin guarded the remaining cookies like treasure. Ruri looked out the window with the card-making supplies on her lap, likely already planning another one.
The mage drove with slower movements.
I watched him.
He noticed.
Again.
"What?"
"You will rest when we return."
"Yes."
"No tablet."
He glanced at me.
"I need to check Aaron's report."
"No."
"Ria."
"No."
"It might be important."
"You can check one message to confirm the gate is closed. Then you rest."
He seemed ready to argue.
I narrowed my eyes.
He surrendered.
"Fine."
The children approved from the backseat.
"Mama wins," Karin said.
"Hikari thinks Papa should listen."
Ruri smiled. "Mama is right."
The mage sighed.
"My house has become a court where I always lose."
"Then present better arguments," I said.
"I'm injured."
"That is not an argument. That is evidence."
"Against me?"
"Always."
Karin laughed.
Hikari giggled.
Ruri covered her smile.
The mage looked tired.
But alive.
The swordswoman was alive too.
The children were no longer crying.
That was enough.
For now.
When we returned home, the mage checked exactly one message from Aaron.
He read it aloud.
"Gate fully closed. Both core fragments secured. No further casualties. We talk tomorrow."
The children relaxed further.
Ruri whispered, "Good."
Hikari sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside her.
"Papa couch."
Karin pointed toward the kitchen.
"Mama soup."
I lifted an eyebrow.
"Are you commanding me?"
Karin froze.
Then bowed dramatically.
"Requesting Mama soup."
"Better."
The mage laughed under his breath and sat on the couch as ordered. Hikari climbed beside him carefully, avoiding his ribs. Ruri brought a blanket. Karin placed one cookie on the table in front of him like a tribute.
"For recovery," she said.
He looked at it.
"One cookie?"
"Mama rationed."
"Tragic."
I went to the kitchen and heated soup.
Not because the mage needed it.
He did.
But that was not the only reason.
The house needed it.
Warm food. Children nearby. Injured father resting. Aunt alive. Gate closed. A temporary mother pretending soup was merely efficient resource management.
When I returned, the mage accepted the bowl with both hands.
"Thanks."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do not look grateful in that irritating way."
"I'm too tired to control my face."
"Then suffer."
He smiled faintly.
Dangerous.
I looked away.
The afternoon sunlight had begun to settle gently across the living room. On the low table, the printed photos still waited from yesterday. The family photo under the tree sat on top, unframed but chosen.
The mage noticed it too.
After a moment, he said quietly, "We should frame that tomorrow."
I looked at the photo.
The children beneath the tree. The swordswoman. The mage. Me.
A strange family.
A reckless family.
A family that kept becoming more real no matter how often I called it temporary.
"Yes," I said.
"We should."
No one teased after that.
Not even the mage.
For once, he was wise.
The children leaned against him on the couch while I placed the soup tray on the table. Karin ate her rationed cookie. Hikari hummed softly. Ruri looked at the photo with a small smile.
And I, who had once ruled a kingdom, stood in a condominium living room and felt relief because a swordswoman was alive, a mage was resting, and three daughters were no longer afraid.
Absurd.
Ridiculous.
Unacceptable.
Warm.
*****
End of Chapter 41
Arclight Parenting Report:
Parents:
Ren Arclight — Retired Archmage / Dragon Dad / Professionally Outvoted
Ria Arclight — Former Demon Queen / Dragon Mom / Supreme Household Authority
Current Family Objective:
Visit recovering Aunt Ruruka
Ensure Papa actually rests
Maintain household peace
Continue pretending everyone is "temporary"
Children Under Protection:
Ruri — Ice / Responsible Big Sister / Emotional Support Specialist
Karin — Fire / Cookie Logistics Officer / Papa Protection Unit
Hikari — Light / Tiny Spoon Healer / Certified Papa Supervisor
Today's Activities:
Returned home safely after dungeon rescue
Received mandatory interrogation by Ria
Survived emergency first-aid session
Allowed Ria to treat multiple injuries
Confirmed Ruruka's successful recovery
Visited Aunt Ruruka at the hospital
Delivered handmade recovery gifts
Presented Courage Spoon
Successfully prevented hospital cookie warfare
Returned home under strict parental supervision
Officially sentenced to couch rest and soup
New Developments:
Ria officially assumed full Household Commander duties
Children unanimously agreed Papa cannot be trusted unsupervised
Hikari's "healing kiss" unlocked
Karin established Papa Protection Squad
Ruri successfully became everyone's emotional anchor
Ria publicly declared:
"They are my daughters."
Temporary family continues becoming increasingly permanent
Household Status:
Peacefully Chaotic
Soup Supported
Medically Supervised
Parents Stress Levels:
Ren
Physically Bruised
Emotionally Ambushed
Officially Outnumbered
Ria
Calm
Strict
Quietly Relieved
Parenting Skill Growth:
Ren: 71.4% (Hero Recovery + Honest Father Bonus Applied)
Ria: 63.8% (Maternal Authority Synchronization Achieved)
Family Synergy: 79.6% (Hospital Visit + "They Are My Daughters" Milestone Unlocked)
Current Parents Status:
Ren
Active
Recovering
Under Observation
Ria
Active
Protective
Household Commander
Immediate Priorities:
Ensure Ren actually rests
Continue visiting Ruruka
Frame the family photograph
Keep Aaron waiting until tomorrow
Prevent Papa from checking work reports every five minutes
Operational Assessment:
Mission Type:
Family Recovery + Hospital Visit
Difficulty:
Impossible for Stubborn Fathers
Emotional Status:
Ren
Tired - Grateful - Surrounded by Love
Ria
Protective - Composed - Quietly Attached
Future Outlook:
Ruruka expected to recover steadily
Family hospital visits expected to continue
Ren's excuses expected to become less effective
Children expected to intensify Papa supervision
Ria expected to deny every wholesome moment that occurs
Parents Personal Statement:
Ren:
"Apparently my own family has decided I'm the patient now."
Ria:
"You are injured. Sit down, drink your soup, and stop arguing."
Reality's Response:
"The dungeon nearly took their family apart...so naturally, the moment everyone returned home, the Former Demon Queen declared martial law, three dragon daughters formed the Papa Protection Committee, and the retired Archmage discovered that surviving two bosses was significantly easier than surviving his own household."