By Saturday afternoon, I am fairly certain I have aged ten years.
Possibly twelve.
Maybe fifteen if we count spiritual damage.
I am twenty-seven years old, but the reflection staring back at me from the dark television screen looks like a man in his mid-thirties who has lost multiple battles against laundry, school notices, and children with too much energy.
This is slander.
Accurate slander, which makes it worse.
I sit on the sofa in the living room with my head tilted back, one arm hanging uselessly over the side, and the kind of exhaustion that cannot be cured by sleep alone. The condominium is larger than the old apartment. Better. Cleaner. Safer. More spacious.
Unfortunately, more space simply means the girls have more territory to spread chaos across.
The living room, which looked elegant and peaceful in the listing photos, is now covered in signs of life. Coloring books on the low table. A school bag near the couch. Hikari's tiny spoon sitting beside a box of crayons for reasons I have stopped questioning. A half-finished puzzle on the carpet. One of Karin's socks on the back of a chair. Ruri's neatly stacked school papers placed in a corner with labels because apparently one member of this household respects civilization.
That member is not me.
The doorbell rings earlier in the afternoon, and for once, it is not a school representative, delivery person, management staff member, or some new adult responsibility arriving to attack me.
It is Ruruka.
My little sister steps inside, removes her shoes, and immediately stops.
She looks at me.
I look at her.
She looks at the girls.
The girls are scattered throughout the living room. Ruri is sitting at the table, carefully doing what appears to be homework even though it is the weekend. Hikari is kneeling beside her with a crayon in hand, asking questions at a speed that could probably qualify as a magic chant. Karin is running from one end of the room to the other while holding a rolled-up blanket like a banner.
Ruruka slowly looks back at me.
"...Nii-sama."
"What."
"You look terrible."
"Thank you."
"That was not a compliment."
"I know."
She walks farther inside with the careful expression of someone entering a battlefield after the fight has technically ended but the smoke has not cleared. Her gaze lands on the stack of school forms sitting beside me, then on the emergency contact paper, then on the note from the teacher, then on another note from a different teacher.
Her eyebrow twitches.
"...How many times?"
I close my eyes.
"Don't ask."
"How many times were you called to the school while I was gone?"
I remain silent.
Ruruka folds her arms.
"Onii-sama."
"...Five."
Her eyes narrow slightly.
"In how many days?"
I open one eye.
"...Do you want the answer that preserves my dignity?"
"You no longer have that option."
I sigh deeply.
"Five calls. Mostly because of Karin."
From across the room, Karin immediately stops running and turns toward us.
"That's unfair."
"It is extremely fair."
"I didn't do anything that bad."
"The teacher called me because you challenged the jump rope group to a 'leadership trial.'"
"That was a misunderstanding."
"You declared yourself captain."
"I was organizing them."
"You made ranks."
"They liked the ranks."
Ruruka pinches the bridge of her nose.
Hikari raises her hand proudly from beside Ruri. "Hikari was not called to office."
"No," I say. "You were not. You were apparently too busy forming what feels suspiciously like a small philosophical society."
Ruruka blinks. "A what?"
I gesture vaguely toward Hikari.
"She asks sincere questions. Children gather. Teachers gather. Then she asks more questions. Yesterday, I arrived during pickup and found six children sitting around her while she explained why clouds might be lonely."
"Hikari thinks clouds move together because they are friends," Hikari says seriously.
Ruruka stares.
Then she presses her lips together.
Do not laugh.
Do not encourage this.
I point at her. "Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You wanted to."
"I absolutely did."
Ruri quietly lifts one of her school papers. "...Papa, the teacher gave me another good job star."
I turn toward her, and despite my exhaustion, my expression softens immediately.
Of course it does.
Ruri has been receiving good job stars every day. Every day. Five in a row. Teachers love her. Staff love her. Children like her because she helps them clean up, shares crayons, explains things gently, and somehow prevents arguments before they grow teeth.
She is becoming beloved by the entire school.
Naturally, this makes me proud.
It also worries me.
Because Ruri is still a child, and yet half the time she behaves like the only adult in the room.
I hold out my hand, and she brings the paper over. A small gold star sticker sits near the top, with the teacher's note written neatly beside it.
Very helpful today. Thank you, Ruri-chan.
Critical hit.
Emotional damage.
I clear my throat.
"...Good job, Ruri."
She smiles softly.
"Thank you, Papa."
Ruruka watches the exchange with a faint smile before sitting down on the chair across from me.
"So," she says, "let me guess. Ruri is beloved, Hikari is becoming popular, and Karin is infamous."
"That is painfully accurate."
Karin crosses her arms. "I'm not infamous."
"The boy you punched follows you around now."
Karin pauses.
Then grins slightly.
"He respects me."
"He thinks you're cool because you made his nose bleed."
"That sounds like respect."
"That sounds like a future problem."
Hikari nods solemnly. "Hikari thinks the boy wants to become Karin's follower."
"No followers," I say immediately.
Karin's grin widens.
"No subjects either."
"Aww."
"No armies."
"But—"
"No."
She pouts, but I can already tell she will revisit this topic later under a different name.
Ruruka leans back slightly and studies me. "You really do look exhausted."
"I am exhausted."
"Did you sleep?"
"I attempted."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one available."
She looks toward the coffee table, where several forms remain half-filled.
"Still worried about the wife paperwork?"
The word alone makes my soul sink.
The wife problem.
The fake wife problem.
The very stupid consequence of my very stupid cover story, which was necessary at the time but has now grown teeth and started biting my ankles.
I sit upright slightly and rub the back of my neck.
"Yes."
Ruruka's expression becomes more serious.
The girls are still in the room, but they are busy enough that I keep my voice low. Ruri returns to her homework, Hikari starts coloring again, and Karin resumes running, though slightly slower now because she is clearly listening.
"I can handle most things," I mutter. "Household documents. Guardian forms. School enrollment. Emergency contacts. Even medical declarations with enough vague phrasing. But anything involving their mother gets annoying."
Ruruka gives me a look.
"You mean the mother who does not exist."
"Lower your voice."
"The mother you invented."
"It was a strategic cover."
"It was improvisation."
"Strategic improvisation."
"It was panic with confidence."
I stare at her.
She stares back.
I lose.
"...Fine."
The worst part is that she is right. I had not thought far enough ahead. At the time, saying I had a wife gave the girls a normal framework. It made things easier for Aaron, for the property office, for school staff, and for every system that expects children to emerge from normal human circumstances instead of dragon eggs.
But systems are persistent.
They do not stop at one form.
They keep asking.
Mother's name.
Mother's signature.
Mother's household registration.
Mother's medical history.
Mother's contact details.
Mother's relationship status.
Mother's everything.
I, a man who has never dated anyone in his entire life, am now being crushed under the administrative weight of an imaginary spouse.
Life is deeply unfair.
I lean back and stare at the ceiling.
"I have never even dated anyone."
Ruruka pauses.
Then slowly blinks.
"...That is what bothers you?"
"It is part of the problem."
"Onii-sama."
"What?"
"You fought the Demon King."
"Yes."
"You sealed ancient calamities."
"Yes."
"You are raising three dragon daughters."
"Unfortunately, yes."
"And somehow the fact that you have no dating experience is what makes the fake wife situation feel impossible?"
I turn my head toward her.
"...Yes."
She looks at me for several seconds.
Then sighs.
"You are unbelievable."
"I am aware."
Karin suddenly appears beside the sofa, because of course she was listening.
"Papa never dated?"
"No."
"Why?"
"That is not an appropriate question."
"Were you bad at it?"
"I never attempted it."
"So you were bad before starting."
I stare at her.
Ruruka covers her mouth.
Hikari looks up from her drawing. "Hikari thinks Papa is handsome."
"Thank you, Hikari."
Ruri quietly adds, "Papa is kind too."
Ah.
Dangerous.
I look away quickly.
Karin thinks about it, then nods. "Papa is tired, but he's cool when serious."
"That sentence had too much accuracy."
Ruruka laughs softly before waving the girls back toward their activities.
"Go finish your coloring and homework. I need to talk to your Papa."
"Hikari will draw Mama," Hikari says casually.
I freeze.
Ruruka freezes too.
Karin tilts her head. "But we don't know what Mama looks like."
"Hikari will draw sunshine."
"That's not a person."
"Hikari thinks sunshine can be Mama."
Ruri looks at me quietly.
Too quietly.
There it is again.
Not just paperwork.
Not just signatures.
Not just legal details.
The mother problem is not only administrative. It is emotional. The girls are starting school now. They are meeting other children. They are hearing words like mother, family, parents, home. They are learning that most households have structures they do not fully understand yet.
And I have no idea what to tell them.
Not yet.
Ruruka notices my expression and becomes gentle in a way that makes me want to run from the conversation.
"Onii-sama," she says softly.
I exhale slowly.
"...Yeah."
She waits until the girls are distracted again before continuing.
"You're thinking too far ahead all at once."
"I have to."
"No," she says. "You think you have to, but you don't. Not all at once."
I look at her.
She leans forward, elbows resting lightly on her knees, voice calm but firm.
"The girls don't need a perfect explanation today. They don't need a complete family history today. They don't need you to solve every missing piece before dinner. What they need is consistency. Safety. Honesty when they can understand it. And you."
I open my mouth.
She raises a hand.
"Let me finish."
I close my mouth.
Rude.
Effective.
"You're worrying about the mother because the world keeps asking for one," she continues. "Forms ask for one. Schools ask for one. Other children mention one. Systems expect one. But families are not made by systems."
"That sounds like something from a parenting book."
"It's common sense."
"I hate common sense."
"I know."
She glances toward the girls, and her expression softens.
"Ruri watches you because she trusts you. Karin acts reckless because she knows you'll catch her. Hikari asks endless questions because she feels safe enough to be curious. That is family. Not paperwork. Not perfect answers. Not some imaginary mother written on a form."
I stare at the documents on the table.
The blank spaces seem less like paper now and more like accusations.
Ruruka continues, quieter this time.
"You may need to maintain the cover story for the outside world. That is practical. But inside this home, you don't have to pretend you have everything figured out. The girls are still young. Let things move slowly. Let them ask when they are ready. Answer what you can. Protect what you must. And don't turn yourself into a corpse trying to solve every future problem before Monday."
I look at her for a long moment.
Then I sigh.
"...You practiced that speech."
"No."
"You did."
"I improvised."
"Suspiciously well."
"I'm just better at being emotionally functional than you."
"That is a low bar."
"Yes."
Ouch.
Accurate.
Ruruka's expression softens again.
"What you need right now is not another form, Nii-sama. It's rest."
"I have children."
"Rest anyway."
"That sounds illegal."
"It's the weekend."
"Weekends don't exist anymore."
"They do if you stop turning every hour into a crisis."
"I don't turn every hour into a crisis. Karin does."
"Hey!" Karin shouts from the carpet.
I point at her without looking. "Five school calls."
She immediately goes quiet.
Ruruka stands and stretches lightly. "I'll have to leave soon. I still have work and preparations on my end, but I'll come back when I'm free."
Hikari immediately looks up.
"Auntie is leaving again?"
"For now," Ruruka says gently.
Karin sits upright. "But you just got here."
"I know."
Ruri places her pencil down and looks toward Ruruka. "...Please rest too, Auntie."
Ruruka's entire expression softens.
That one always works.
"I will."
No, she won't.
She is related to me.
Rest avoidance is apparently genetic.
Ruruka gives each of the girls a hug before heading toward the entrance. Hikari clings for an extra second. Karin pretends she does not want to but hugs tightly anyway. Ruri bows slightly, then hugs her last with both arms.
When Ruruka reaches the door, she looks back at me.
"Try not to collapse."
"No promises."
"Feed them dinner."
"I was planning to."
"Actual dinner."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
She smiles faintly.
"And Nii-sama?"
"What?"
"You're not doing as badly as you think."
I stare at her.
"That was dangerously sincere."
"Accept it."
"Never."
She shakes her head, then leaves.
The door closes.
The condominium becomes quieter.
Not quiet.
Never quiet.
But quieter.
I stand there near the entrance for a moment, staring at the door, before slowly turning back toward the living room.
Three children look at me.
Ruri with concern.
Hikari with curiosity.
Karin with the kind of energy that suggests she is considering asking for snacks.
I am tired.
Stressed.
Hungry.
Legally haunted by an imaginary wife.
And no longer fully confident that I know what I am doing.
Actually, I'm not sure I ever knew.
I return to the sofa and collapse onto it like a defeated hero who has lost to the final boss of the week.
"...Papa?" Ruri asks.
"I'm alive."
"You look dead."
"Emotionally adjacent."
"Hikari thinks Papa needs food."
"Hikari is correct."
Karin raises a hand. "Can we order something?"
I think about it.
Cooking requires standing.
Standing requires energy.
Energy is currently unavailable.
"...Maybe."
Before I can decide whether takeout counts as responsible parenting, the doorbell rings.
The sound echoes through the room with the force of a divine judgment.
I open one eye.
No.
Absolutely not.
I have already survived school calls, fake wife paperwork, Ruruka speeches, hunger, exhaustion, and Karin's educational conquest.
Whoever is at the door has chosen a terrible day.
I slowly sit up.
Ruri turns toward the entrance.
"Hikari wonders who came," Hikari says.
Karin perks up. "Maybe Auntie came back?"
"No," I mutter, standing with the spiritual weight of a man approaching his limit. "If that's another delivery, form, notice, or school issue, they better be prepared for what's coming to them."
I walk toward the door half-conscious, half-starved, and fully done with reality.
Then I open it.
***
Astrea's pov
The surface is colder than I remember.
Or perhaps I am simply weaker than I should be.
Either possibility irritates me.
I stand beneath the open sky for the first time in more than three years, and the world stretches before me in a shape both familiar and unfamiliar. The air smells different. The buildings have changed. The roads look brighter. There are more lights, more vehicles, more humans moving about as if the world did not once tremble beneath my shadow.
How bold.
How insulting.
This place remembers me, even if its people have forgotten.
I remember the city.
I remember the screams.
I remember the taste of conquest balanced on the edge of my fingers before that mage appeared and ruined everything.
Ren Arclight.
The name burns through my thoughts sharper than any chain that once bound me.
That man stopped me.
Not with desperation. Not with fear. Not even with hatred.
He stopped me with that infuriatingly calm expression, as if sealing away a being of my caliber was merely an unpleasant chore interrupting his schedule.
Then he buried me beneath layers of spatial locks, cursed chains, suppression formulas, and that arrogant sealing array woven so perfectly that even I needed years to break free.
Years.
More than three years locked away in the dark.
More than three years surviving on hatred alone.
My pride still aches from it.
My power is not what it was. I can feel the emptiness inside me where strength should be. Breaking the seal consumed far too much. The last chain took nearly everything I had left prepared.
But not everything.
Enough remains.
Enough to track him.
Enough to reach him.
Enough to kill him.
I close my eyes and gather what little power I can spare. Familiar mana traces still linger in the world like old scars. Most are faint. Useless. Broken. But his? His magic is unmistakable.
Annoyingly clean.
Disgustingly precise.
Even weakened by distance and time, I know it immediately.
"There you are," I whisper.
Not far.
Closer than I expected.
A grin spreads across my face.
How convenient.
Perhaps fate has finally remembered which side it owes.
I walk toward the road, ignoring the strange looks from passing humans. My clothes are outdated, torn in places, and stained with seal dust. My hair probably looks wild. My mana is thin enough that even maintaining a proper glamour would be wasteful.
No matter.
Revenge does not require elegance.
Though admittedly, I prefer elegance.
A vehicle stops near the curb, and a short, broad dwarf driver leans out from the window.
"You need a ride, miss?"
I study him.
A surface transport worker.
I remember enough customs to understand the arrangement. Money for distance. Destination required. Polite conversation optional.
Unfortunately, I do not know the exact destination.
Only the direction.
I open the door and enter the back seat.
"Drive."
The dwarf driver looks at me through the mirror.
"...Where to?"
"I will point."
He stares.
I stare back.
After a moment, he shrugs. "Strange customers pay the same."
Good.
He is adaptable.
The vehicle moves, and I focus on the trace of Ren Arclight's mana. It flickers at the edge of my senses, faint but distinct, pulling me through streets and intersections and unfamiliar districts. The surface has grown more irritatingly organized while I was sealed. Buildings rise taller than before. Lights flash everywhere. People walk freely, laughing, eating, talking, completely unaware that someone magnificent has returned from imprisonment.
Rude.
Very rude.
The driver glances at me again.
"You from around here?"
"No."
"Tourist?"
"No."
"Visiting someone?"
"Yes."
"Friend?"
I smile.
"No."
The driver goes quiet.
Wise dwarf.
As we move closer, the mana trace sharpens.
Ren Arclight.
The mage who humiliated me.
The monster who sealed me.
The man whose head I will take with my own hands.
My fingers curl against my palm.
I imagine his expression when he sees me. Surprise, perhaps. Regret, hopefully. Fear, if the world is kind.
No.
That may be too much to ask.
That man never feared properly.
He was always tired.
Always annoyed.
Always looking at calamity like it was paperwork.
That made me hate him even more.
At last, the trace leads us to a tall residential building. Clean. Modern. Secure. Far too peaceful for someone like him.
I narrow my eyes.
"He lives here?"
The driver looks up at the building. "Fancy place."
Of course.
The mage seals me away and then hides in luxury.
My hatred sharpens.
I open the door and step out.
"Payment," the driver calls.
I reach into the small pouch I retrieved from the remnants of my sealed chamber and toss him a large mana crystal.
The dwarf catches it, then nearly drops it.
His eyes widen.
"Miss, this is—"
"Enough?"
"Enough? This could pay for—"
"Then keep the change."
I do not wait for his response.
I have no time to waste on surface currency conversion.
I stride toward the entrance with purpose burning through every step. The lobby doors open smoothly, and I enter beneath bright lights and polished stone.
A receptionist sits behind the front desk.
Cat beastkin.
Young.
Cautious eyes.
She looks up and immediately stiffens.
Understandable.
"Good afternoon," she says carefully. "May I help you?"
"Yes," I answer. "Tell me where Ren Arclight lives."
Her polite expression tightens. "I'm sorry, but resident information is private. May I ask who you are?"
I step closer.
"My name does not matter."
"It does if you wish to visit a resident."
Annoying.
Very annoying.
I do not have the patience for this.
I could force my way through. I could search floor by floor. I could tear open every door until I find him. But my strength is limited, and wasteful displays would be foolish before facing Ren.
So I choose precision.
I let the faintest thread of charm magic slip into my voice and gaze.
The spell is simple. Subtle. Beneath what I would once have considered effortless.
Now, it costs me more than I like.
I hate that.
The receptionist's eyes soften slightly.
"I know Ren," I say smoothly. "He is expecting me. Tell me his floor."
She blinks once, the magic settling over her thoughts like silk.
"Oh," she says quietly. "Of course."
Pathetic surface security.
Effective enough against ordinary threats, perhaps.
Not against me.
Still, the charm drains more of my remaining strength than expected. My knees nearly weaken, and irritation flares through me.
Damn that seal.
Damn that mage.
The receptionist gives me the floor number and access direction. I leave before the spell can wear thin, stepping into the elevator with my jaw clenched and pride keeping my body upright.
The elevator rises.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
I stare at my reflection in the polished metal doors.
Pale.
Exhausted.
Still beautiful, obviously.
But weakened.
No matter.
I do not need to be at full strength.
I only need enough.
When the elevator doors open, I follow the mana trace down the hallway. It grows stronger with each step. Familiar. Infuriating. Precise even beneath layers of domestic mana residue.
Domestic?
I pause slightly.
There are other traces around his.
Small ones.
Bright.
Strange.
Three of them.
Children?
My eyes narrow.
What trick is this?
No matter.
If they are apprentices, servants, familiars, or shields, I will deal with them after I deal with him.
I stop in front of the door.
Behind it, I sense him.
Ren Arclight.
The mage.
My enemy.
My humiliation.
My revenge.
A grin spreads across my lips.
"At last."
I press the doorbell.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then I hear footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Unsteady.
Good.
Perhaps he is weakened too.
The door opens.
And I finally see him.
Ren Arclight stands before me.
But something is wrong.
Very wrong.
The mage I remember was terrifying. Annoying, yes. Lazy-looking, yes. But beneath that lazy posture was a predator's precision, an overwhelming pressure wrapped in human skin. The man who sealed me had eyes sharp enough to cut through arrogance and mana control so perfect it felt obscene.
The man in front of me now looks like he is about to collapse from unpaid sleep debt.
His hair is slightly messy. His eyes are dull with exhaustion. His posture is not battle-ready. It is barely-standing-ready. His shirt is wrinkled. His expression is deadpan in a way that feels less like intimidation and more like spiritual resignation.
He stares at me.
I stare at him.
This is not how revenge is supposed to begin.
Before I can speak, before I can announce my return, before I can deliver the opening line I spent three years preparing in the darkness—
He reaches out, grabs my wrist, and pulls me inside.
What.
The door closes behind me.
I am dragged into a bright, spacious living room.
There are children.
Three of them.
One is doing something involving writing at the table with terrifying focus.
Two are running across the room like they are undertaking some sacred quest.
There are crayons, school bags, folded laundry, forms, snacks, and something tiny and metallic on the table that appears to be a spoon.
Before my mind can properly process any of this, Ren shoves something into my hands.
A ladle.
Then he places an apron over me.
A cat-print apron.
I look down.
A smiling cat face stares back at me.
My mind goes blank.
Ren points weakly toward the kitchen.
"Please cook first," he says in the voice of a dying man. "Wake me up after an hour."
Then he walks to the sofa and collapses face-first into it.
I stand there.
In the kitchen.
Holding a ladle.
Wearing a cat apron.
My revenge target is unconscious on the sofa.
Three children continue existing at high volume.
One of them runs past me and says, "Oh! New auntie?"
Another child looks up from her homework, eyes wide with polite confusion.
The smallest one tilts her head and smiles.
"Hikari thinks the new lady is pretty."
I grip the ladle.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
I look at Ren Arclight, the mage who sealed me for more than three years, now lying half-dead on his sofa like a defeated household object.
Then I look at the cat apron.
Then at the children.
Then back at the ladle.
"...What in the world just happened?"
*****
End of Chapter 26
Dad Status Report:
Name: Ren Arclight
Former Occupation: Retired Archmage / Former Demon King Slayer
Current Occupation: Full-Time Dragon Dad
Primary Objective:
Survive another weekend while maintaining household stability.
Daughters Under Supervision:
*Karin – Fire / Leadership / School Legend
*Ruri – Ice / Responsibility / Teacher's Favorite
*Hikari – Light / Curiosity / Professional Friend Maker
Today's Activities:
*Endured post-school exhaustion
*Reviewed multiple school incident reports
*Received family inspection from Ruruka
*Confirmed five school office calls
*Celebrated Ruri's growing collection of Good Job Stars
*Discussed ongoing household paperwork
*Continued fake wife cover story maintenance
*Received emotional counseling from younger sister
*Attempted weekend recovery
*Opened front door while spiritually defeated
*Accidentally recruited an unknown visitor into household duties
New Developments:
*Ruri becoming beloved by teachers and staff
*Hikari rapidly gaining popularity through endless curiosity
*Karin developing a loyal admirer after the duel incident
*Wife paperwork escalating into long-term concern
*Ruruka confirms slow and steady parenting approach
*New mysterious woman successfully entered residence
*Visitor immediately assigned cooking responsibilities
Threat Level (Environment):
Weekend
Domestic Responsibilities
Unexpected Visitors
Threat Level (Household):
Elevated
*Karin attempting leadership everywhere
*Hikari creating discussion groups
*Ruri becoming everyone's favorite student
*Imaginary Wife remains undefeated
*Unknown guest currently holding a ladle
Daughter Safety Status:
Happy
Healthy
Emotionally Secure
Dad Stress Levels:
Sleep Deprived
Socially Exhausted
Administrative Burnout
Parenting Skill Growth:
29.4% (Weekend Family Management Bonus Applied)
Current Dad Status:
Operational
Running on Coffee
Mentally Horizontal
Immediate Priorities:
*Feed three daughters
*Finish remaining paperwork
*Address wife documentation issue
*Determine identity of unexpected visitor
*Avoid collapsing before dinner
*Prevent Karin from establishing additional organizations
Operational Assessment:
Mission Type: Domestic Survival
Difficulty: Unpredictable
Emotional Status:
Exhausted – Responsible – Completely Done
Future Outlook:
New Complications Have Arrived
Chaos Expected to Increase
Dad Personal Statement:
"Please cook first... wake me up after an hour."
Reality's Response:
"The Demon Queen has been successfully reassigned... Current Position: Temporary Housewife."