After we agreed to visit the condominium tomorrow, the conversation should have ended there.
Technically, it did.
Emotionally, however, it was immediately replaced by another problem.
Ruruka getting captured by three children.
The moment the serious adult discussion ended, Karin appeared at the dining table like she had been waiting behind an invisible starting line. Hikari followed right behind her with both hands raised, while Ruri stayed a little farther back, clearly trying to appear polite even though her eyes were also quietly sparkling.
"Auntie," Karin said with dangerous seriousness, "you said later."
Ruruka blinked once, then slowly looked at me.
I looked away.
Cowardly? Maybe. Smart? Absolutely.
"Hikari remembers Auntie promised later," Hikari added, nodding proudly like she was reciting official law.
Ruri clasped her hands in front of her and gave Ruruka a small, almost apologetic smile. "…You don't have to if you're tired, Auntie."
That one hit Ruruka directly.
It always did.
My little sister stared at the three of them for a moment, then sighed with the expression of someone realizing she had lost before the battle even started.
"…Only for a little while," she said.
Karin immediately cheered as if she had conquered a fortress. Hikari clapped like this was a national celebration, and Ruri smiled softly before moving aside so Ruruka could enter the living room without being dragged by force.
I watched all of this from the dining table and came to a very important conclusion.
Children are terrifying negotiators.
They do not use logic.
They use sincerity.
That is significantly worse.
While Ruruka was pulled into the living room, I stood and headed toward the kitchen to start dinner. It was a small kitchen, which meant cooking for four people and one visiting little sister required the same level of spatial awareness normally necessary for high-level dungeon combat. One wrong movement and someone's elbow would knock over a bowl. One careless turn and the cutting board would become a casualty. One moment of distraction and Karin would somehow appear behind me asking if she could help by adding "a little fire."
No.
Never again.
The last time I let Karin near anything involving heat, the curtain suffered.
The curtain still remembers.
From the living room, the sounds of play began almost immediately.
"No, Auntie, you have to be the serious swordswoman captain," Karin announced.
"I'm already a swordswoman," Ruruka replied.
"That makes it realistic."
"Hikari wants to be the treasure finder!"
"You already are," Ruruka said. "You found the snack shelf earlier."
"Hikari is talented."
Ruri's voice followed, gentle but firm. "Karin, don't stand on the couch."
"I'm not standing. I'm preparing."
"That is standing."
I stirred the pot and listened to the chaos with the exhausted calm of a man who had accepted that peace was no longer included in his life plan. Honestly, it wasn't terrible. Noisy? Yes. Dangerous? Occasionally. Likely to reduce the lifespan of household furniture? Absolutely. But not terrible.
Ruruka's voice blended surprisingly well with the girls' laughter. She pretended to complain when Karin challenged her to a duel using rolled-up towels. She answered Hikari's questions about swords, monsters, and whether aunties had special powers. She praised Ruri every time the poor girl successfully prevented her sisters from committing property damage.
I could hear the difference in the girls too.
They were comfortable with her. Excited. Safe.
That mattered more than I wanted to admit.
I had spent so much time thinking about the things I lacked—experience, paperwork, parental instincts, basic competence in adult life—that I almost forgot there were already people around me willing to stand beside us. Aaron, in his own terrifyingly competent way. Ruruka, despite pretending she only came to scold me. The girls weren't alone, and I wasn't alone either.
Very annoying realization.
Mostly because it was comforting.
Dinner was simple: rice, grilled fish, soup, and some vegetables that Karin looked at like they had personally betrayed her. Hikari, on the other hand, asked if vegetables had feelings. Ruri quietly told her that even if they did, they were already cooked, which was both practical and mildly concerning.
Ruruka stared at Ruri for a moment.
"…She really is your responsible one," she said.
"I know," I replied.
Ruri lowered her head slightly. "…I just said what made sense."
"That's the terrifying part," I muttered.
Karin poked her vegetables with her chopsticks. "Papa, if we move, can the new house have food that tastes better than this?"
I slowly looked at her.
Ruruka immediately covered her mouth.
Hikari tilted her head. "Hikari likes Papa's food."
"Thank you, Hikari."
"I like Papa's cooking," Karin added.
"That sounded worse than you intended," Ruruka murmured.
I pointed my chopsticks at her. "Do not start."
Ruri carefully took a bite of vegetables, swallowed, then looked at Karin. "It's good for us."
Karin groaned like she had been handed a death sentence.
I watched them argue softly over food and found myself thinking, again, that the dining table was too small. Ruruka's elbow nearly touched mine. Karin and Hikari had to sit close enough that Ruri spent half the meal preventing them from stealing from each other's plates. The soup pot occupied too much space. The plates barely fit.
Everything worked.
Barely.
That word had been following us around this apartment for too long.
Barely enough space. Barely enough routine. Barely enough sleep. Barely enough normal.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
After dinner, we cleaned up together. By "together," I mean Ruri helped properly, Hikari carried one spoon at a time with immense dedication, Karin claimed she was supervising, and Ruruka stood beside me at the sink while giving me the look of someone mentally organizing every flaw in my household management.
"…What?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"That was not a nothing face."
"It was very much a something face."
"At least lie with effort."
Ruruka glanced toward the living room where the girls were now getting sleepy despite trying very hard to deny it.
"You're doing better than I expected," she said quietly.
I paused.
That was suspicious.
"…Is this a compliment?"
"Yes."
"Why does it feel like a warning?"
"Because you're difficult."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
I dried a plate and placed it aside.
Ruruka's expression softened slightly. "The girls look happy here."
I glanced toward them.
Karin was sprawled across the couch like a fallen warrior, Hikari was leaning against Ruri's side, and Ruri was gently fixing Hikari's hair while trying not to yawn.
"…Yeah," I said. "But they need more than happy. They need space. School. A place where they can grow without me constantly worrying that Karin will ignite the curtains again."
Karin's sleepy voice came from the couch. "I heard that."
"Good. Reflect on your crimes."
"I regret nothing."
Of course she doesn't.
A little later, after the girls were full, sleepy, and considerably less dangerous, Ruruka stretched her arms above her head and announced something that should not have surprised me.
"I'm staying here tonight."
I looked at her.
"…Where are you going to sleep?"
Ruruka stared at me with a perfectly flat expression.
"To my old room, of course."
Ah.
Right.
Her old room.
In my defense, I had not been thinking about her old room as "Ruruka's old room" recently. I had been thinking about it as "storage area," "emergency clothing supply," and occasionally "place where I threw things when the living room became too chaotic."
This was, perhaps, a tactical error.
Ruruka stood, walked down the short hallway, opened the door to her old room, and stopped.
The silence that followed was not peaceful.
It was judgmental.
Then her voice came from inside, slow and cold.
"Onii-sama."
I closed my eyes.
There it is.
"Yes?"
"Explain why my clothes are everywhere."
The girls, despite being sleepy, immediately lifted their heads from the couch.
Karin whispered, "Papa is in trouble."
"Hikari thinks Auntie is scary."
Ruri quietly added, "…Papa should apologize."
I stood with the dignity of a man walking toward his own execution and headed to the doorway. Ruruka stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, staring at the impressive battlefield of clothing scattered across the bed, chair, floor, and one laundry basket that had clearly given up on life.
Her old clothes were everywhere. Some folded. Some unfolded. Some half-sorted into categories that had made sense to me at the time but now looked like the work of a desperate raccoon.
I cleared my throat.
"…Right."
Ruruka slowly turned her glare toward me.
I pointed vaguely at the clothes. "I was looking for things that might fit the girls."
"When?"
"…A while ago."
"How long ago?"
I considered lying.
Then remembered she knew me.
"…Before the dungeon incident."
Ruruka stared.
"You left my clothes like this for days?"
"In my defense, I almost died."
"That does not explain the clothes from before you almost died."
"It explains my inability to fix the issue afterward."
She inhaled slowly through her nose.
Terrifying.
Very controlled.
Very much like she was considering whether murder counted as a family matter.
"I'll get you for this later," she said.
"Reasonable."
"Do not say reasonable like that makes it better."
"It doesn't?"
"No."
Behind me, Karin whispered, "Papa is losing."
"Hikari thinks Auntie is winning."
Ruri sighed. "…Please don't fight."
Ruruka looked past me, and immediately her expression softened for the girls.
That was unfair.
She could switch from executioner to kind auntie too quickly.
"It's fine," she said. "Your Papa is just irresponsible."
"Accurate," Karin said.
I looked at her.
She looked away.
Traitor.
Ruruka cleaned up enough space to reclaim the room, muttering under her breath the entire time. I helped because I valued my life. The girls tried to help too, though Hikari got distracted by a ribbon and Karin found an old jacket and declared it "battle gear." Ruri folded clothes properly, which immediately made Ruruka smile at her and then glare at me harder.
Apparently being outperformed by a child in basic organization was bad.
Who knew?
By the time the room was barely acceptable, the girls were visibly fighting sleep. Hikari's head kept bobbing. Karin was pretending she was awake through sheer stubbornness. Ruri's eyes were half-lidded, though she was still trying to stay responsible.
I looked at them, then sighed.
"Alright. Bed."
Karin immediately protested. "I'm not sleepy."
"You just tried to put your shoe on your hand."
"It was strategy."
"Hikari is awake," Hikari said while leaning sideways into Ruri.
Ruri gently held her up. "…Hikari is not awake."
"Hikari is… considering awake."
"No."
I picked Hikari up first. She melted against my shoulder almost immediately, warm and small and trusting in a way that still made something in my chest tighten. Karin tried to resist when I picked her up next, but her protest came out as a yawn. Ruri followed on her own, though I noticed her steps were slow.
Since Ruruka was taking her old room, I carried the girls to my room and laid them down there together. It wasn't ideal, but nothing in this apartment had been ideal for weeks. Hikari curled toward the middle almost instantly. Karin sprawled like she had conquered the mattress. Ruri carefully tucked the blanket around both of them before lying down herself.
"Papa," Ruri murmured, already half-asleep.
"Yeah?"
"…Tomorrow, we'll see the new house?"
"Yeah."
"…Okay."
Her voice softened at the end, and within seconds, all three of them were asleep.
I stood there for a moment in the doorway, watching them.
There are moments when fatherhood feels like being attacked from all directions by noise, questions, expenses, and inexplicable sticky handprints. Then there are moments like this. Quiet. Simple. Dangerous in a completely different way.
I pulled the blanket a little higher over them, then stepped out and closed the door halfway.
The living room was dark except for the faint city light filtering through the curtains. I grabbed a thin blanket from the closet and settled onto the couch.
The couch was not comfortable.
The couch had never been comfortable.
The couch was, in many ways, a punishment shaped like furniture.
But the girls were in my room, Ruruka was in her old room, and I was the one who made the mess anyway, so the couch was my battlefield tonight.
I had just started convincing myself that sleeping slightly folded in half was acceptable when Ruruka appeared in the hallway.
"Onii-sama."
I opened one eye. "…What?"
"What are you doing there?"
"Sleeping, obviously."
She stared at me, then looked at the couch, then back at me.
"That couch is terrible."
"I know."
"You'll wake up with back pain."
"I always wake up with back pain. I have children now."
"That is not how anatomy works."
"It is spiritually accurate."
Ruruka sighed, disappeared into her old room, and returned a minute later carrying a folded foam mattress. Without asking, she moved the center table aside, cleared enough floor space, and laid the foam down in the middle of the living room.
I watched her work silently.
She grabbed a pillow, tossed it at my face, then placed another blanket on top of the foam.
"There," she said. "Sleep there."
"…You didn't have to do that."
"I know."
She turned toward her room, then paused.
"Goodnight, Nii-sama."
I looked at the foam, then at my little sister.
For a moment, she looked younger than usual.
Not the A-rank hunter. Not the terrifyingly competent woman who judged my real estate decisions and threatened me over laundry crimes.
Just Ruruka.
My little sister.
I smiled faintly.
"…Goodnight, little sis."
She looked away quickly.
"Don't make that sentimental face."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Go sleep."
She huffed and returned to her room, closing the door behind her.
I settled onto the foam mattress and immediately realized it was far better than the couch.
Very annoying.
Younger sisters should not be right this often.
Sleep came easier than expected.
For once, there was no hospital ceiling, no abyss throne room, no blood-soaked stone under my hands. Just the quiet breathing of children in the next room, the faint presence of Ruruka nearby, and the knowledge that tomorrow we were going to look at a possible future.
Unfortunately, morning arrived.
Rude.
I woke up to sunlight, the smell of something faintly toasted, and Hikari's face approximately three inches from mine.
"Papa."
I opened my eyes slowly.
"…Why."
"Hikari is checking if Papa is awake."
"I wasn't."
"Now Papa is."
"Tragic."
Behind her, Karin was already bouncing in place with far too much energy for someone who had been half-dead from sleep last night.
"We're seeing the new house today!"
"It is not a house yet."
"But it could be!"
"That is technically true."
Ruri stood beside them, already dressed, hair neat, expression calm despite the excitement in her eyes.
"…Good morning, Papa."
"Good morning, Ruri."
Ruruka stepped out of the kitchen holding a piece of toast.
I stared at her.
"…Did you make breakfast?"
"You looked dead."
"I was sleeping."
"Same thing sometimes."
I sat up, rubbed my face, and tried to remember when my apartment became functional enough for breakfast to exist before I contributed anything.
Apparently, letting Ruruka stay over had immediate benefits.
After breakfast, which involved toast, eggs, and Karin asking if toast could be improved with fire, we prepared to leave. Preparing three children for an outing should qualify as an official hunter trial. Hikari needed help fixing her collar because she kept getting distracted by her own reflection. Karin wanted to bring three toys, one towel sword, and a snack "for tactical purposes." Ruri packed tissues, water, and a small hair tie pouch without anyone asking.
Again.
Responsible child.
Worrying.
Ruruka helped with the process like a commander managing a difficult deployment. She tied Hikari's hair, confiscated Karin's towel sword, praised Ruri's preparation, then turned to me and adjusted my collar too.
I stared at her.
"…I am an adult."
"You look suspiciously unfinished."
"That is my natural state."
"I know. That's the problem."
Eventually, all five of us made it down to the parking area and into the SUV.
The girls took the back seat again with Hikari in the middle, Karin by one window, and Ruri by the other. Ruruka sat beside me in the passenger seat, which immediately made the entire situation feel strangely official.
Like a family inspection trip.
Terrifying phrase.
I started the engine.
Karin immediately leaned forward. "Papa, can we name the car today?"
"No."
"Hikari still likes Fluffy."
"The SUV will not be named Fluffy."
Ruruka slowly turned to me. "…Fluffy?"
"Do not ask."
Ruri quietly added, "…I thought Black Dragon was nice."
Karin gasped. "Ruri agrees!"
"I said nice. Not appropriate."
"Still counts."
I pulled out of the parking lot while already regretting consciousness.
The drive to Chiba was longer than the drive home from the dealership, which meant more time for Hikari's endless curiosity to develop at full strength.
"Papa, is Chiba far?"
"Not too far."
"Why not too far?"
"Because we are already going there."
"Hikari sees water!"
"That is not water. That is a glass building."
"Hikari sees sky in the building."
"…Close enough."
Karin, meanwhile, refused to settle in any meaningful sense of the word. She adjusted her seatbelt three times, leaned toward Ruri's window twice, leaned toward Hikari's seat once, asked if the condominium had stairs, then asked if she could race up those stairs.
"No," I said.
"You didn't hear the full plan."
"I heard enough."
Ruri gently pressed Karin back into her seat. "…Please sit down."
"I am sitting down."
"You're half-standing."
"That's advanced sitting."
Ruri sighed.
Ruruka sighed.
I sighed.
Beautiful family harmony.
After about thirty minutes of questions, corrections, and Karin being told to sit properly at least seventeen times, we finally reached the condominium building.
The first thing I noticed was that the listing photos had not exaggerated much.
That was suspiciously rare.
The building was tall, clean, and modern without looking too flashy. The entrance had wide glass doors, polished floors visible from outside, a landscaped front area, and security that looked competent enough to matter. The neighborhood itself felt quieter than central Tokyo, but not isolated. There were shops nearby, a school route within reasonable distance, and streets wide enough that I wouldn't constantly fear Karin running directly into traffic.
Important feature.
The girls pressed their faces toward the window.
"Hikari sees the big house!"
"It's huge!" Karin shouted.
Ruri's eyes widened slightly. "…Pretty…"
Ruruka looked at me.
I pretended not to be nervous.
She noticed anyway.
Of course she did.
We parked properly, and the moment everyone stepped out, the girls' excitement became physically measurable. Hikari turned in a slow circle, trying to look at everything at once. Karin looked like she was resisting the urge to sprint. Ruri quietly held Hikari's hand, probably because she knew exactly what would happen if no one did.
"Stay close," I said.
"Yes, Papa," Ruri answered immediately.
"Hikari will stay close."
"I'll stay close too," Karin said.
Karin said that while looking at the entrance like an enemy base she planned to infiltrate.
Not reassuring.
Ruruka and I headed toward the front desk, and the girls followed for approximately eight seconds before drifting toward the lobby's seating area, then toward a decorative indoor plant, then toward a fountain feature near the wall.
Concerning.
Very concerning.
The receptionist greeted us with a professional smile, though her eyes briefly flicked toward the girls with the cautious expression of someone realizing this appointment might become memorable.
"Good morning. Do you have an appointment?"
I nodded and gave my name.
The receptionist checked her tablet, then brightened slightly. "Ah, yes. Arclight-sama. You're here for the two-floor high-rise unit viewing."
"Yes."
Beside me, Ruruka smiled politely. "We'd like to confirm the layout, amenities, security, and purchase process as well."
The receptionist's posture immediately became more formal.
Competence recognizes competence.
I mostly stood there looking like the person paying for everything, which, unfortunately, I was.
"Of course," the receptionist said. "The unit you're interested in is one of our premium family residences. It has two levels, multiple bedrooms, a wide living area, an open kitchen, two bathrooms, storage rooms, and balcony access. The building includes twenty-four-hour security, private parking, elevator key access, a children's lounge, study room, fitness area, shared rooftop garden, a swimming pool, and emergency shelter facilities."
That last one caught my attention.
"Emergency shelter?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "Given current dungeon-related safety regulations, newer buildings in this area include reinforced shelter floors and emergency mana barriers connected to city response systems."
Good.
That mattered.
Ruruka glanced at me.
I nodded slightly.
The receptionist continued explaining the purchase process, maintenance fees, registration documents, and the timeline for transfer. Ruruka asked intelligent questions. I answered where necessary. The girls, meanwhile, explored the lobby with the kind of curiosity usually seen in dungeon scouts with no fear of death.
"Hikari found soft chair!"
"I found stairs!" Karin shouted.
"Karin, no," Ruri said immediately.
I turned my head.
Karin froze with one foot already on the first step.
I stared at her.
She slowly removed her foot.
Good.
Still trainable.
Probably.
After the receptionist finished explaining the basics, she smiled and asked, "Would you like to see the unit interior now?"
Ruruka looked at me.
I looked toward the girls, who were clearly vibrating with anticipation.
"…Yeah," I said. "Let's see it."
That was apparently the wrong thing to say out loud.
Because the moment the girls understood that we were going upstairs to see the actual place, all hell broke loose.
Not destructive hell.
Excited hell.
Which is usually the warning stage before destructive hell.
The elevator ride alone became an event. Hikari asked why the elevator moved without legs. Karin asked if she could race the elevator by taking the stairs. Ruri said no before I could. Ruruka pinched the bridge of her nose like she was beginning to understand the full daily burden of my life.
When the elevator doors opened to the upper residential floor, the hallway was quiet, clean, and spacious. The receptionist led us to the unit, unlocked it, and opened the door.
The girls went silent.
So did I.
The entryway opened into a wide living area filled with natural light. Large windows stretched across one side, revealing the city and sky beyond. The ceiling was high enough that the space didn't feel cramped. The kitchen was open, modern, and large enough that cooking would no longer feel like fighting inside a box. A staircase led to the second level, where the bedrooms were located, and even from the entrance, I could tell the entire place was bigger than the apartment by an almost insulting margin.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Then Hikari whispered, "Hikari likes this house."
Karin immediately recovered.
"This place is huge!"
And that was the signal.
The girls scattered.
Ruri tried to stop them.
She failed immediately.
"Hikari wants to see the window!"
"I want upstairs!" Karin shouted.
"Please wait!" Ruri called, rushing after them.
The receptionist looked mildly alarmed.
Ruruka smiled politely. "They're excited."
"That is one word for it," I muttered.
We stepped inside properly, removing our shoes near the entrance, and I found myself slowly looking around with more attention than I expected. The living room was wide enough for the girls to play without immediately injuring furniture. The kitchen had enough counter space for cooking proper meals. There was storage near the entrance, enough for shoes, bags, umbrellas, and probably whatever strange treasures Hikari would inevitably collect.
The place felt open.
Breathable.
Dangerous thought.
Karin's voice came from upstairs. "PAPA! THERE ARE ROOMS!"
"Yes," I called back. "That is common in homes."
"Hikari found a closet!"
"Do not enter random closets!"
"Hikari already entered!"
Of course she did.
Ruruka walked beside me with an expression that said she was evaluating everything. "The layout is good. The stairs may need child safety adjustments, but the railing is solid. Windows have locks. Kitchen visibility is strong from the living room. You can cook while watching them."
"That sounds like surveillance."
"That sounds like parenting."
"Disturbing overlap."
The receptionist began explaining the interior details. "The first floor includes the living area, kitchen, guest bathroom, storage room, and balcony. The second floor contains the private bedrooms, main bathroom, and additional storage. The unit is designed for families who need both shared space and privacy."
Families.
That word still did strange things to me.
I glanced toward the staircase, where Ruri was now carefully guiding Hikari back down while Karin leaned over the railing.
"Karin, do not climb the railing," Ruri said.
"I am observing."
"Observe from the floor."
Ruruka looked at me.
I looked back.
"…The railing may need extra reinforcement," I admitted.
"Definitely."
We toured the first floor first. The balcony was large enough to hold a small table and plants, though I immediately imagined Karin trying to climb something and decided additional locks would be necessary. Hikari pressed both hands against the glass and gasped at the view, while Ruri stood beside her quietly, eyes wide.
"…You can see so far," Ruri said.
"Papa, can Hikari watch the sky here?"
"Yeah," I said, softer than intended. "You can."
Karin pointed toward the distance. "Can we see monsters from here?"
"Hopefully not."
"But if we do?"
"Then we go inside."
"And then?"
"And then Papa handles it."
She grinned.
That trust again.
Terrifying.
Upstairs was worse.
Not because there was anything wrong with it.
Because there was too much right with it.
Multiple bedrooms. Actual space. A bathroom large enough for three children without turning basic hygiene into warfare. A hallway wide enough that I wouldn't have to turn sideways while carrying laundry.
The girls immediately began assigning rooms.
"This one is mine!" Karin shouted.
"Hikari likes this one because sunlight!"
Ruri stood quietly near the doorway of another room, looking in without claiming it.
I noticed.
Of course I did.
"…Ruri?" I asked.
She turned toward me. "Yes, Papa?"
"You like that room?"
She hesitated. "It's quiet."
That was all she said.
But I understood.
Quiet.
A place of her own.
A place where she didn't have to be responsible every second.
I nodded. "Then it can be yours."
Her eyes widened slightly. "…Really?"
"Yeah."
Karin immediately appeared behind me. "Wait, we get our own rooms?"
"Probably."
"Hikari gets sunshine room?"
"If we buy the place, yes."
"Hikari wins sunshine!"
Karin looked between the rooms, suddenly overwhelmed by choice. "Then I want the room with the best battle position."
"There are no battle positions."
"There are always battle positions."
Ruruka looked toward me. "She's definitely your daughter."
"That was unnecessary."
"Accurate."
The receptionist smiled, clearly trying not to laugh.
At some point during the tour, the girls discovered the upstairs storage room and collectively treated it like a secret chamber. Hikari wanted to store treasures there. Karin wanted to make it a base. Ruri suggested it should be for blankets and seasonal items. Somehow, Ruri's suggestion was the only one that made sense, which meant it would probably lose the vote unless I intervened.
I intervened.
"Storage room is for storage," I said.
"I can fit in there," Karin argued.
"No."
"Hikari can store Hikari inside."
"No."
Ruri nodded approvingly.
Good child.
The longer we walked through the unit, the more dangerous the place became.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
I could imagine too much.
The girls eating breakfast at the kitchen counter. Ruri reading near the window. Karin turning the living room into a battlefield unless stopped. Hikari asking questions on the balcony while pointing at the clouds. Ruruka visiting and pretending not to enjoy being dragged into playtime. Me cooking dinner without elbowing the wall every five seconds.
A normal life.
Or at least the closest approximation available to us.
That was dangerous.
Because once you imagine something, losing it becomes harder.
Ruruka noticed my silence.
She always does.
"…Nii-sama," she said quietly, "they like it."
I looked toward the living room below, where the girls had gathered near the windows again. Karin and Hikari were talking excitedly, while Ruri stood between them with a soft smile.
"…Seems like it."
"You like it too."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
I sighed.
Little sisters are unfair.
Ruruka smiled faintly. "It's good."
The receptionist, sensing that we were close to deciding, gave us a respectful amount of space while explaining the final steps. The purchase could proceed with the documents prepared by Aaron and the guild. The payment would be handled through official transfer. Registration would take some processing, but early move-in could be arranged because the unit was already vacant.
I listened carefully.
Or at least I tried.
Half my attention remained on the girls.
Hikari was pressing her hands together like she was praying to the window. Karin was measuring the living room with her steps for some unknown military purpose. Ruri was telling her not to run.
Ruruka nudged me lightly.
"Onii-sama."
"…Yeah?"
"You're staring again."
"I do that now, apparently."
"You're allowed."
"Stop being supportive. It's suspicious."
"I can be mean again if you prefer."
"No, thank you."
We returned to the reception office downstairs to discuss the paperwork. The girls stayed close this time, mostly because Ruruka gave them one look and Karin immediately decided obedience was wise.
The receptionist placed the documents in front of us and began explaining each page. Purchase agreement. Identification. Payment confirmation. Transfer schedule. Building rules. Parking registration. Amenity access. Emergency procedures.
The stack looked like a dungeon boss made of paper.
Terrible enemy type.
Ruruka helped review everything, because apparently she trusted me to fight monsters but not to read documents properly.
Correctly.
Unfortunately.
At one point, the receptionist asked, "Will all three children be registered as residents under your household?"
I paused for half a second.
Household.
There it was again.
"Yes," I said. "They will."
The girls looked at me.
Ruri's expression softened.
Karin grinned.
Hikari beamed.
Small moment.
Big damage.
Critical hit.
I signed the paperwork.
Then more paperwork.
Then another page that looked almost identical to the previous paperwork but apparently existed for legal reasons.
By the time it was done, my hand hurt more than it had during certain boss fights.
The receptionist collected everything, checked the signatures, then smiled brightly.
"Congratulations, Arclight-sama. Once the final transfer is confirmed, the unit will officially be yours. We can prepare the early access schedule as soon as tomorrow afternoon."
The girls erupted.
"Hikari has a sunshine room!"
"I have a battle room!" Karin shouted.
"No battle room," I corrected immediately.
Ruri smiled quietly. "…We have a home."
That one nearly killed me.
Ruruka noticed.
Of course she did.
She smiled at me, gentler than usual.
"Congrats, Onii-sama," she said. "Another milestone reached for your parenting era."
I stared at her.
"…That sounds like mockery."
"It's encouragement."
"It feels like mockery."
"That's because you're sensitive."
"I am not sensitive."
"You almost cried when Ruri said home."
"I had dust in my eyes."
"There is no dust here."
"Legal dust."
Ruruka laughed softly.
The receptionist politely pretended not to hear any of that, which immediately raised my opinion of her professionalism.
As we stepped out of the building, the girls were still buzzing with excitement. Karin was already planning where to put things she did not own yet. Hikari was asking if sunlight belonged to her if it entered her room. Ruri was quietly asking if she could help pack when the time came.
I looked back at the condominium tower.
Tall.
Clean.
Expensive.
Full of paperwork.
Possibly doomed because my children exist.
But ours.
Almost.
I let out a slow breath.
A-rank promotion. New SUV. New condominium. School planning next.
This parenting era was advancing too quickly.
Very dangerous progression.
Ruruka stood beside me, arms folded, watching the girls with a fond expression.
"You did good," she said quietly.
I glanced at her.
"…Don't say that. I might start believing it."
"You should."
"Terrible advice."
"True advice."
The girls ran ahead a few steps, then stopped and turned back.
"Papa!" Karin shouted. "Can we come back tomorrow?"
"Hikari wants to see sunshine room again!"
Ruri smiled. "…Please?"
I looked at them, then at Ruruka, then back at the building.
Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing.
Still.
I had signed the papers. I had chosen the place. I had chosen them.
And somehow, that made the next step obvious.
"…Yeah," I said. "We'll come back."
The girls cheered.
Ruruka smiled.
And I, Ren Arclight, former archmage, retired disaster survivor, slayer of the Demon King, and current exhausted father of three dragon daughters, realized something deeply concerning.
Buying a home felt harder than saving the world.
The world, at least, did not ask for parking registration.
*****
End of Chapter 23.
Dad Status Report:
Name: Ren Arclight
Former Occupation: Retired Archmage / Former Demon King Slayer
Current Occupation: Full-Time Dragon Dad
Primary Objective:
*Secure a permanent home where three daughters can grow up safely.
Daughters Under Supervision:
*Karin – Fire / Chaos / Future Battle Room Designer
*Ruri – Ice / Organization / Responsible Big Sister
*Hikari – Light / Curiosity / Official Sunshine Inspector
Today's Activities:
*Conducted official condominium inspection
*Evaluated neighborhood safety
*Reviewed residential security systems
*Survived forty-seven child questions
*Prevented unauthorized stair racing
*Approved individual bedrooms
*Assigned Sunshine Room
*Defended storage room from becoming secret base
*Completed residential paperwork
*Officially purchased family condominium
*Accepted repeated emotional damage from daughters
*Continued pretending to understand adulthood
New Developments:
*Family condominium officially purchased
*Chiba relocation confirmed
*Individual bedrooms assigned
*Ruruka officially promoted to Family Relocation Consultant
*Household expansion entering final stage
*Permanent family residence established
*Ren officially acknowledged all three girls as members of his household
Threat Level (Environment):
*Peaceful
*Financially Expensive
*Paperwork Heavy
Threat Level (Household):
Moderate
*Sunshine Room excitement
*Battle Room negotiations ongoing
*Storage room occupation attempt prevented
*Car naming crisis unresolved
Daughter Safety Status:
*Extremely Happy
*Future Home Secured
Dad Stress Levels:
*Financially Recovering
*Emotionally Critical
*Paperwork-Induced Fatigue
Parenting Skill Growth:
31.8% ➜ 39.5% (Home Acquisition Bonus Applied)
Current Dad Status:
*Homeowner
*Provider
*Emotionally Vulnerable
Immediate Priorities:
*Complete property transfer
*Begin moving preparations
*Child-proof new condominium
*Purchase additional furniture
*Prepare school registration
*Prevent Karin from fortifying her bedroom
Operational Assessment:
Mission Type: Permanent Base Establishment
Difficulty: Administrative Nightmare
Emotional Status:
Proud – Hopeful – Slightly Overwhelmed
Future Outlook:
A New Life Begins
Dad Personal Statement:
"Buying a home felt harder than saving the world."
Reality's Response:
"Congratulations. You stopped surviving... You finally started building a future."