Maki hesitated for a fraction of a second, her fingers lingering on Hime's small shoulders as if weighing the soul of the man standing before her. Then, with a sharp, exhaled breath, she stepped forward and transferred the tiny girl into Agung's arms.
Agung's breath hitched. He had spent 24 years holding manga volumes and plastic figurines, but this was different. Hime was warm, surprisingly solid, and smelled faintly of strawberries and baby powder. As he tucked his arms under her, his slightly chubby frame provided a natural, soft cushion that the "old" Agung—the lean, distant mogul—apparently hadn't offered.
"Whoa," Agung whispered, his eyes stinging. "You're... you're real."
Hime looked up at him, squinting her purple eyes. She reached out a tiny hand and poked his cheek. "Papa is squishy now," she announced to the room. "Like a big marshmallow."
Rin and Honoka roared with laughter from the doorway, while Umi turned away to hide a small, complicated smile.
"That's the 'nagic' at work, Hime-chan," Agung said, his voice thick with emotion. "It comes with extra padding for better hugs."
He looked over Hime's head at the six women. The anger hadn't vanished—years of resentment don't evaporate because of one magical toy—but the "Executioner" vibe had shifted into something else: Observation. They were watching him like a new species of animal that had just wandered into their garden.
"Don't get too comfortable, 'Marshmallow-Papa'," Maki said, though she didn't take the child back. "Holding her is the easy part. The hard part is the fact that we haven't had a family dinner in three years because the table felt too empty. And since you have the power of a God..."
"The kitchen," Eli finished, gesturing toward the door. "Show us this 'Pekalongan' spirit you talked about. If you're a street sweeper who lived on instant noodles, I expect you to know how to appreciate a real meal."
Agung carried Hime downstairs like she was the most precious artifact in existence, the magical alpaca trotting faithfully at his heels. In the grand dining room, he met the other two children: Aoi (Umi's son, who looked ready to challenge Agung to a duel with a plastic sword) and Yuki (Kotori's daughter, who immediately hid behind her mother's skirt).
Agung stood in the center of the massive, high-tech kitchen. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to just "order" food. He wanted to create something that bridged his two lives.
With a snap of his fingers, the Golden Mana surged:
He manifested a spread that combined his Pekalongan roots with their Japanese tastes. Sate Maranggi made from the finest A5 Wagyu beef, Nasi Goreng topped with gold-leaf tempura, and a massive bowl of Soto Betawi that smelled like a tropical heaven.
He didn't just make food; he "Created" a warm, golden glow that filled the room, making the shadows of the last three years feel small and insignificant.
"It smells... like a world I've never been to," Kotori whispered, breathing in the spices.
"It smells like home," Agung corrected her, setting Hime down in her high chair. "A home I'm finally actually standing in."
Nico picked up a golden skewer, eyeing it suspiciously. "If this gives me a stomach ache, I'm suing you for a trillion dollars. Each."
"Nico-chan," Agung laughed, feeling a spark of the old fan-joy mixing with his new reality. "I have a quadrillion. You can't even spend a trillion in one go. Just eat."
As the nine idols and the three children sat around the table—the first full house since 2023—the atmosphere began to thaw. But just as Honoka was about to dig into a third helping of "Magical Bread," a strange, static-like flickering appeared in the corner of the room.
A holographic window opened, and the face of the Isekai Operator appeared, looking more annoyed than ever.
"Yo, Agung. Checking in. How's the 'Deadbeat' life? If you're bored, I can still trigger that 2013 reset. I found a way to let you keep your 'Top 3' wives and just... delete the rest. Interested?"
The entire table went silent. Umi reached for a steak knife. Maki stood up, her face pale.