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After the feast, the table was a mess of cups and plates.
On the long dining table, the turkey's skeleton remained, the leftovers telling the story of the previous liveliness.
In the living room, on the warm wool carpet, that unfinished game of Dungeons & Dragons began once more.
Chris, acting as the temporary Dungeon Master, sat upright with a solemn expression, as if playing a deity.
"In the Hobgoblin's lair, the foul air has almost solidified. Leon, your Rogue took a nasty tumble; he's dizzy, seeing stars, and his health points are down to a pitiful single digit."
"Hey! I still have one HP! I can still be saved!" Leon clutched his face, letting out an exaggerated cry of agony.
"Don't worry, Leon," Rebecca waved her character card, her girl-next-door face filled with a holy radiance. "My Cleric, the 'Morning Light Bringer' Emilia, will pray for you and cast a Lesser Heal!"
She picked up a small four-sided die and gave it a light toss; it landed on a '4'."
"Very good," Chris nodded. "A faint Holy Light envelops you. You feel the sharp pain at the back of your head subside significantly, but you are still surrounded by three drooling Hobgoblins."
"My turn!" Barry Burton's booming voice was so loud it made the decorative lights on the ceiling shake.
He grabbed a handful of dice, rattling them in his palm like a grenade, and then slammed them onto the table.
"My Dwarf Warrior, 'Ironbeard,' lets out a war cry! For honor and ale! I'm using Reckless Attack!"
"Attack roll... 23! A hit! Damage... 12 points!" Barry looked at the numbers on the dice and pumped his fist excitedly. "I split its ugly skull open with one swing of my axe!"
Chris's face twitched slightly, seemingly mourning his poor Hobgoblin. "You... you split that Hobgoblin in half from head to toe. Green blood and brains splatter all over your face."
"Nice job, Barry!" Jill praised with a laugh, and then it was her turn.
She picked up a twenty-sided die and flicked it gracefully; the die traced a perfect arc across the tabletop.
"My Ranger, 'Moonshadow,' draws her bow and aims for the other Hobgoblin's eye. Fire!"
The die finally stopped on a '19'."
"A beautiful shot," Chris announced. "Your arrow pierces the Hobgoblin's right eye with precision. It clutches its eye, screaming as it collapses."
Now, only one panicked Hobgoblin remained, along with the unknown dangers deep within the cave.
Everyone's gaze fell upon Sherry.
The little girl was nervously clutching her character card—a slightly crooked drawing she'd made herself of a Halfling girl whose class was 'Lucky One.'
"Sherry," Chris's voice softened instinctively, "it's your turn now. Your little Halfling, Molly, is shivering behind a rock. Before you is the last terrified Hobgoblin. What do you plan to do?"
Sherry looked at the encouraging gazes of everyone, then at Noah and Claire, who were peeking out from the kitchen, smiling at her.
She plucked up her courage, picked up the twenty-sided die that felt a bit large in her small hand, closed her eyes, and threw it with all her might.
The die rolled across the table, tumbling tirelessly as if carrying some mysterious fate.
Finally, it came to a steady stop.
The number '20' was facing up.
"...Critical Success!" Leon was the first to shout, sounding even more excited than if he had rolled it himself.
The entire living room erupted.
Chris looked at the number and couldn't help but laugh as well.
He cleared his throat and, in a dramatic, chanting tone, began to describe the scene with grand inflections.
"Your character, the timid Halfling Molly, in her extreme panic, pulls a... pebble from her pocket and throws it at the Hobgoblin with all her strength!"
"That ordinary pebble traces a bizarre arc in the air that no one could have predicted. It first hits the cave wall, ricochets, hits a stalactite on the other side, ricochets again... and finally, under everyone's stunned gazes, it strikes precisely and unerringly into the Hobgoblin's mouth, which was hanging open in terror, and rolls down its throat!"
"The poor Hobgoblin is choked on the spot. It clutches its neck in agony, flailing about as its face turns from green to purple. Finally, with a 'thud,' it falls straight to the ground, twitches twice, and moves no more."
"...You defeated a Hobgoblin with a single pebble."
After a brief silence, the living room erupted into sustained applause and boisterous laughter.
Sherry covered her mouth, her eyes crinkling into slits from smiling. She felt this was the greatest moment of her life.
In the kitchen, the sound of running water splashed.
Claire continued humming an out-of-tune song, carefully scrubbing a lobster thermidor plate with a sponge to remove some stubborn, dried cheese.
Noah stood beside her, using a clean cotton cloth to dry the washed glasses one by one before putting them back in the cupboard.
The warm light stretched their shadows long, overlapping them together.
"She looks so happy." Claire looked at Sherry in the living room, a motherly, gentle smile on her face.
"Yeah," Noah responded softly, "she deserves to have all of this."
A black figure appeared silently at the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame.
Ada's eyes were quietly watching the group of adults in the living room acting like children.
A faint warmth flowed in her gaze, one that even she hadn't noticed.
"Chris makes for a decent Dungeon Master; he's good at storytelling," she spoke, her voice carrying a unique, husky magnetism.
Claire turned around and smiled when she saw it was her. "He used to love making up all sorts of stories to tell me when he was a kid, mostly to scare me."
"Monsters in fairy tales can be killed with the roll of a die," Ada withdrew her gaze from the living room and turned to Noah and Claire. That brief moment of warmth vanished instantly, replaced by her usual coolness and detachment. "Monsters in reality aren't so easy to deal with."
She paused and continued, "Trant asked me to convey his congratulations. Also, there's some news."
The atmosphere in the kitchen shifted quietly with her words.
Noah didn't stop drying the glasses.
"Wesker's escape was entirely within Trant's expectations. Umbrella, this giant ship riddled with holes, is about to sink. The world's media will become the giant waves that push it down." Ada's voice was flat, as if she were merely stating facts.
Claire's hand, which was scrubbing the plate, slowed down.
A look of relieved ease appeared on her face, mixed with a hint of hazy hope.
"So... is it all over?" she asked softly, her voice carrying an uncertain expectation.
Noah put the last glass away and turned to lean against the counter.
He looked at Claire's innocent expression and then at the woman at the door who always lived in the shadows, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
"Over? Claire, I'm afraid this... has only just begun."
"The monster that is Umbrella has been killed, but its corpse will breed countless smaller, hungrier, and more crazed hyenas. And Wesker is the most cunning and ferocious of them all. A vicious dog on a leash is always better than a mad wolf running free in the wilderness."
A faint, approving smile tugged at the corner of Ada's mouth.
"Exactly. Wesker has already formed his new team, an elite unit called H.C.F. More importantly, he's found a new benefactor."
Ada's gaze became profound.
"Drake C. Simmons, my former employer."
"You'd better remember that name. He is an invisible colossus within the U.S. government, the leader of a secret organization called 'The Family.' Their interest in biological weapons is no less than Umbrella's. Wesker has defected to him, bringing all of Umbrella's research data."
"Trant is very interested in what Wesker and Simmons are researching."
"So," Noah interjected with a hint of sarcasm, "Trant plans to wait until Wesker has cultivated all the fruit in the orchard, and then he'll comfortably go and pick them? And maybe cause some trouble for this Simmons while he's at it?"
"He does have that idea," Ada admitted candidly. "However, more than Wesker's research results, he's currently more interested in... you, Noah."
Her gaze landed on Noah.
"Your potential and your evolution have completely exceeded his estimates. He believes that the BSAA Chris is currently setting up would be a very good platform."
Noah was silent for a moment before smiling slightly. "Platform? More like a coliseum. None of the conglomerates interested in the BSAA have clean hands. What they need isn't an organization to maintain world peace, but a weapon they can use legally to strike at their commercial rivals."
"Correct," Ada's reply was crisp and direct.
"That's how Trant sees it too. The BSAA is an excellent chessboard, a magnificent one that can pull everyone in. Simmons, Wesker, those from Europe, those from Asia—every faction interested in this cake will be drawn into it..."
"That's not fair! Chris is founding the BSAA to prevent tragedies from repeating! To save people!" Claire couldn't help but retort, her voice trembling with emotion.
Ada looked at her as if she were looking at an innocent lamb.
"Don't be so naive, dear. No organization in this world can exist purely. Wherever there are people, there are desires, deals, and darkness. The brighter the sunlight, the deeper the shadow it casts. Even your brother, that idealistic Chris Redfield, cannot control the human heart."
These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over Claire's heart.
Noah gently took her hand, then looked up, staring directly into Ada's eyes.
"Can I opt out?"
Ada smiled slightly, as if she had long expected him to ask this.
"Trant knew you'd think that. He admires you, so he's willing to give you a choice."
"He's giving you a one-year vacation to live like normal people—get married, go on a honeymoon, and enjoy life. A year from now, if you can find a replacement who satisfies him... someone with the same 'special potential' as you, then you can quit this game for good."
"And if I don't?" Noah pressed.
"If you don't," Ada's smile took on a playful edge, "then you must keep playing this game. Until you find a replacement, or until your opponents completely vanish from the chessboard."
She didn't stay any longer after speaking, turning to leave. Her slender silhouette quickly disappeared from the kitchen as if she had never appeared... Under Trant's 'suggestion,' a wedding that was too conspicuous or grand was deemed likely to attract unnecessary attention.
A few months later, spring arrived.
Noah and Claire's wedding was exceptionally simple.
At City Hall, before a solemn clerk and under the watchful eyes of Chris and Jill as witnesses, they exchanged rings and signed their names.
There was no white gown, no sacred cathedral, and no hundreds of guests.
The real celebration was a barbecue party held in a rented park area.
The sun was bright, the grass was lush and green, and the air was filled with the aroma of charcoal and grilled meat.
Noah, wearing a casual shirt, was briskly flipping the sizzling sausages on the grill.
He looked at Claire not far away, who was flying a kite on the grass with Sherry, and a wave of guilt rose in his heart.
When Claire ran over laughing to get a drink of water, he held his beloved wife and whispered softly,
"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a grand wedding, the one you dreamed of..."
Before he could finish, Claire stood on her tiptoes and silenced him with a kiss that tasted of sweet lemon soda.
She leaned against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, her face overflowing with immense contentment and happiness.
"I have you, and everyone is here. That's enough. This makes me happier than any grand wedding ever could."
Under a large oak tree nearby, Chris was rarely drunk.
He was holding the equally burly Barry, his face flushed red as he rambled on about embarrassing stories from Claire's childhood.
"...You have no idea, Barry. When Claire was little... she could cry for a whole day just over a toy... I thought... I'd never be able to comfort her for the rest of my life... and now, she's getting married..."
Barry, while munching on a chicken leg, agreed indistinctly and clapped Chris hard on the back.
Jill and Rebecca sat on a picnic mat nearby, laughing uncontrollably at the two grown men.
From further off by the lake, the intermittent sound of a piano could be heard.
There was an old piano in the park for visitors to play. Ada was sitting on the bench, and Sherry had run over to her side.
Ada was wearing a simple white dress, patiently teaching Sherry to play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' note by note.
Those slender yet strong fingers, accustomed to holding guns and cracking codes, appeared exceptionally gentle on the black and white keys now.
The sunlight fell on her profile, outlining a soft silhouette. She was very relaxed, with a faint smile on her lips—a genuine smile, devoid of any pretense.
Leon sat alone on a bench, holding a bottle of beer.
His gaze was fixed on the woman teaching the child to play the piano.
There was none of his usual flippancy or recklessness in his eyes, nor the coolness and sharpness he showed when facing enemies.
It was something extremely complex—a mix of surprise, admiration, longing, and an unspeakable, deep loneliness.
He just sat there quietly watching, as if all the clamor of the world had nothing to do with him.
He only wanted to etch this scene into his memory...
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