By the time we get back to the apartment, I already know something is off.
Not the obvious kind of off. Not the kind where something explodes, catches fire, or screams loudly enough to announce itself as a problem. I've already dealt with enough of those today.
This one is quieter.
Subtle.
The kind that lingers in the back of your head and refuses to leave, no matter how much you try to ignore it.
I drop onto the couch with a slow exhale, leaning back as I let my body sink into the cushions. The apartment is calm—deceptively calm—and for a brief moment, I almost convince myself that this is what normal feels like.
Almost.
Because the moment I close my eyes, Aaron's words replay in my head.
A disturbance.
Boss defeated.
Core didn't appear.
I open my eyes again and stare at the ceiling, crossing one leg over the other as I start running through it properly this time. Dungeon mechanics aren't flexible. They don't improvise. They don't forget steps. A boss is defeated, and the core appears.
That's the sequence.
That's the rule.
So if the core didn't appear, then one of two things is happening.
Either the rule is being broken.
Or something is rewriting it.
Neither option is good.
I shift slightly and glance to the side.
The three of them are sitting on the floor, completely absorbed in the television.
Anime.
Of course it's anime.
Bright colors flash across the screen while exaggerated voices echo through the room, dramatic declarations layered over equally dramatic music. The protagonist is shouting something about friendship while charging an attack that has been building for at least thirty seconds.
I watch them for a moment.
Karin is leaning forward, eyes wide, completely invested like the fate of the world depends on what happens next.
Hikari is sitting upright, holding a sandwich in one hand while staring at the screen with full concentration, chewing absentmindedly between scenes.
Ruri is sitting properly as always, posture straight, hands neatly placed on her lap, but her eyes… her eyes are definitely sparkling.
I stare at them for a moment, then sigh quietly as the realization settles in. At this rate, they're going to turn into full-time otaku, which is… concerning, but also manageable. At least they're not setting anything on fire. For now.
"Don't get any ideas from that," I say lazily, not even moving from the couch.
"Like what?" Karin asks, still not looking away from the screen.
"Like shouting your attacks before using them," I reply. "It's inefficient."
"But it looks cool," she argues immediately.
"It also tells your opponent exactly what you're about to do," I say. "Which usually results in you getting hit first."
She pauses, actually thinking about it.
"…Still cool," she decides.
Of course.
Hikari raises her hand slightly without taking her eyes off the screen. "Hikari also wants to shout attacks."
"No," I say.
"Okay," she replies.
That was easier than expected.
Ruri glances back at me briefly. "Papa, is it bad?"
"Not bad," I answer. "Just inefficient."
She nods, satisfied, and turns back to the screen.
I look at them for another second before shifting my gaze back to the ceiling.
Right.
Focus.
Ruruka.
If she already reported back, then she finished the raid. That means the boss was confirmed dead. And if the boss is dead, then the core should exist.
Should.
I reach for my smartwatch and tap the interface, bringing up my contacts. Her name is already at the top.
I hesitate for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen as I consider whether I actually want to confirm this right now.
Then I press call.
It rings briefly before connecting.
"Nii-sama?" her voice comes through, clear and energetic as always.
I lean back slightly, resting my arm along the back of the couch. "I need to ask you something," I say.
"That's unusual," she replies immediately. "You usually avoid asking for things."
"I'm making an exception," I say.
"I feel honored already," she says lightly. "What happened?"
"The C-rank dungeon you cleared," I say. "Aaron mentioned something strange."
There's a short pause on the other end, just long enough to tell me she already knows what I'm referring to.
Then she exhales. "Ah… that one," she says. "Yeah, it's weird."
I sit up slightly, my attention sharpening. "Explain."
"Labyrinth-type dungeon," she begins. "Nothing unusual structurally. Multiple branching paths, limited visibility, standard layout. The boss was an Ogre King."
"And you fought it alone," I say.
"Obviously," she replies.
That tracks, which makes the next part predictable. "Details," I prompt.
"Direct engagement," she says. "Closed distance immediately, cut through its guard, severed its movement, then finished it."
Efficient. As expected.
"You confirmed the kill?" I ask.
There's a pause, and for a second I actually wait for a normal answer.
Then I remember who I'm talking to.
"…Never mind," I add.
"Of course I confirmed it," she says, sounding slightly offended. "I checked multiple times."
Yes.
Yes, you would.
"Then the problem is the core," I say, already narrowing it down.
"Exactly," she replies. "It didn't appear. No delay, no fluctuation, nothing. It just… didn't happen."
I frown slightly at that, shifting my posture as I think it through. "Dungeon stability?"
"Still active," she says. "That's what makes it worse."
I lean back again, processing that properly this time. Boss defeated, core missing, and the dungeon still active—those conditions aren't supposed to exist together. They don't overlap. They don't coexist. And yet, somehow, they are.
"Why were you solo diving a C-rank dungeon in the first place?" I ask.
"Because I can," she replies immediately. "I'm A-rank, Nii-sama. High A, almost at the threshold. I've cleared multiple B-rank raids solo, led two A-rank subjugations, and my evaluation is already flagged for S-rank consideration. C-rank is well within my range."
"That's not the point," I say.
"It is the point," she counters. "Unlike someone, I actually work."
I pause, realizing there is absolutely no counterargument to that.
"…Fair," I admit.
She hums in satisfaction, clearly pleased with that outcome.
"Anyway," she continues, "you should check it yourself. I'll send the coordinates."
A notification appears instantly on my interface—coordinates received, fast and precise.
Of course.
I glance back at the three of them. Karin is now mimicking something from the anime with full commitment, Hikari is eating another sandwich, and Ruri is still composed—but clearly enjoying herself.
I sigh quietly.
"About that," I say.
"Hmm?"
"Can you come to my apartment today?"
There's a pause on the line, longer this time, like she's weighing the tone more than the words.
"…That sounds serious," she says.
"It is," I reply.
"What kind of serious?"
I look at the three of them again—Karin, Hikari, and Ruri—and take a slow breath before answering.
"The kind that requires help," I say.
There's another brief pause before she answers.
"I'll be there," she replies.
The call ends.
I lower my hand slowly and let it rest on my lap, my gaze drifting forward without really focusing on anything in particular. For a few seconds, I don't move. I just sit there, letting the weight of everything settle in properly.
Because now I have a new problem.
Actually… that's not accurate.
I have multiple problems, and they all decided to show up at the same time.
There's the dungeon anomaly—the missing core that shouldn't be missing in the first place.
Then there's the fact that Ruruka confirmed everything properly, which means this isn't a simple oversight.
And then—
I shift my gaze toward the three of them again.
Karin is half-standing, mimicking attacks like she's already in combat.
Hikari is eating without looking at her food.
Ruri is calm—but clearly entertained.
I watch them for a moment longer than necessary.
Then sigh.
How exactly am I supposed to explain this to my sister?
"Papa, look!" Karin suddenly says, pointing excitedly at the screen.
"I am looking," I reply.
"No, this part," she insists, shifting closer.
"I see it," I say.
"It's cool," she adds.
"It's inefficient," I reply automatically.
Hikari nods seriously. "Inefficient but cool."
Ruri lets out a small giggle.
I close my eyes briefly and lean back further into the couch.
This is my life now.
A missing dungeon core.
An incoming visit from my sister.
And three children who somehow make everything both better and significantly more complicated at the same time.
I exhale slowly.
There's no clean way to handle this.
There never is.
Only better decisions and worse ones.
And knowing how things have been going so far…
I'm probably going to pick the one that creates even more problems.
***
Waiting is a strange kind of torture when you already know what's coming next. It's not the dramatic kind either—no ticking clock, no immediate danger—just a quiet awareness that something inevitable is about to happen and there's nothing you can do to delay it.
I spend the first few minutes pretending I'm not waiting, which is difficult, because I am very obviously waiting.
I lean back on the couch, one arm resting along the backrest, eyes half-lidded as I listen to the anime in the background and Karin's occasional commentary whenever something "cool" happens.
It doesn't take long for my thoughts to drift back to the actual problem.
The dungeon.
The missing core.
Ruruka's report.
And more importantly—Ruruka herself.
There are three reasons I asked her to come here instead of going straight to the dungeon, and all three of them are equally important.
The first is simple: I need to confirm she's actually fine. If something strange is happening inside that dungeon, then the fact that she walked out of it without immediate consequences doesn't guarantee anything.
The second is practical. If I let her go back to her own place, she'll work. Not rest, not reflect—work. She'll keep pushing forward until something stops her, and I don't trust that "something" to be reasonable.
And the third reason…
I glance at the three of them.
Karin is now fully committed to mimicking the protagonist, complete with dramatic arm movements that have absolutely no practical application.
Hikari has finished her sandwich and is now holding the wrapper, somehow still watching the screen like it's the most important thing in existence.
Ruri remains composed, but she has shifted just slightly closer to the television.
I exhale slowly.
Someone needs to stay with them.
Because if I leave them alone, even briefly, there is a very high probability that something will go wrong. And by "something," I mean everything.
A few minutes pass before I hear it—a car pulling up outside. I don't move immediately. Instead, I tilt my head slightly, listening as the engine quiets and the door opens. The footsteps that follow are measured, confident, and very familiar.
I stand and walk toward the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to look outside.
And there she is.
My younger sister.
Ruruka Arclight.
She steps out of the car with the same presence she's always had—straight posture, sharp eyes, and that natural confidence that makes people instinctively give her space.
Her hair is tied into a neat ponytail, and the sword at her hip rests like it belongs there—not decorative, but used.
There's a balance to her—elegant, but dangerous, the kind that doesn't announce itself until it absolutely has to. I let the curtain fall and sigh quietly, already feeling the headache forming.
Right. This is going to be a problem. Not an immediate one, not the explosive kind—but the layered kind that starts small and somehow escalates into something significantly worse.
A moment later, the doorbell rings.
The sound cuts cleanly through the room, and all three of them immediately turn toward me.
Ruri speaks first. "Papa, the doorbell," she says, calm but curious. "Do we have a guest?"
"We do," I reply. "And you three are going to behave."
Karin tilts her head. "Who is it?"
"Your aunt," I say.
"Auntie?" she repeats.
"My younger sister," I clarify.
They pause just long enough to process the information.
"Ooooh," they say together.
I don't correct them.
I open the door, and Ruruka stands there exactly as expected, like she stepped out of a situation she already solved and walked straight into another one.
"Nii-sama," she says, her gaze shifting past me into the apartment. "What's going on?"
I don't answer immediately. I simply step aside and gesture behind me.
"That," I say.
She looks—and sees them, all three now staring at her with their full attention redirected.
Ruruka's brows furrow slightly. "Whose kids are those?"
I sigh.
"Mine," I say.
There's a pause, and then her eye twitches.
"Could you repeat that?"
"They're my kids," I repeat, already feeling the headache forming.
The silence that follows is heavy—not empty, but filled with judgment, the kind that doesn't need to be spoken to be understood.
Karin, naturally, decides this is the perfect moment to approach. She hops off the couch and walks straight up to Ruruka, tilting her head.
"Papa," she says, glancing between us, "is she auntie?"
Hikari and Ruri follow.
"Are you Papa's sister?" Ruri asks politely.
"Hikari says hello," Hikari adds, raising her hand.
Ruruka looks down at them, then back at me, then back at them again before exhaling slowly.
"…Alright," she says. "I get it now."
I don't ask what part she gets.
I just step aside further and let her in.
She takes a few steps into the apartment, her gaze moving briefly across the room as if assessing it out of habit before settling back on me.
"Explain," she says.
There is no escaping this. I rub the back of my neck and let out a slow breath, trying to organize this in a way that doesn't immediately collapse under its own absurdity.
"Alright… listen first before you react," I say.
She crosses her arms immediately. "That already sounds like something I should react to."
"Just—listen," I repeat.
She doesn't respond, but her expression says enough.
"Yesterday," I begin, "I was watching anime when someone rang the doorbell. When I opened it, there were three eggs sitting in front of my door."
She doesn't react, which is somehow worse, because it means she's processing it properly.
"They weren't small," I continue. "Not normal eggs. They had mana signatures. Stable, not aggressive, so I decided to observe them instead of destroying them."
"You brought them inside," she says.
"Yes."
"That was not the correct decision."
"In hindsight," I admit, "yes."
She exhales sharply. "Continue."
"…I briefly considered cooking them," I add.
She slowly turns her head toward me. "You what?"
"They looked edible," I say. "Large, intact—good texture potential."
"Nii-sama," she says calmly, which is worse, "you almost cooked a potential anomaly."
"I didn't," I reply. "They hatched first."
She stares at me for a moment longer than necessary, like she's trying to decide whether this is a joke.
"Of course they did," she mutters, already sounding tired.
"They weren't human at first," I continue. "They were small dragons."
She freezes.
"…Dragons," she repeats.
"Yes. Three of them."
I continue before she can interrupt.
"They weren't hostile. Curious, mostly. Then Karin set a curtain on fire, I put it out, reassessed the situation… and took a nap."
"Of course you did," she says.
"When I woke up," I continue, "they were like this. Fully humanoid. Stable. No transition phase."
She looks at them again.
Karin waves.
Hikari waves back.
Ruri nods politely.
Ruruka looks back at me. "You're telling me three unidentified eggs turned into children overnight."
"Yes."
"And you didn't report it."
"I considered it," I say. "Then I considered the paperwork."
She stares at me. "You chose to avoid paperwork."
"They weren't dangerous," I say. "No corruption, no instability. Just… children."
She narrows her eyes. "So you kept them."
"Leaving them alone would've been worse," I reply.
That gives her pause, but only briefly before I continue. "They've stabilized. Their resonance developed naturally. Which makes this feel less random… and more intentional."
She goes quiet after that, the kind of quiet that means she's actually thinking instead of reacting, before finally exhaling.
"Nii-sama," she says, "you're such an idiot."
That's fair.
Karin tugs her sleeve. "Auntie?"
Ruruka looks down at her, then at the others.
Something shifts in her expression—subtle, but there.
She sighs, then sits down and pulls Karin onto her lap.
Hikari leans closer.
Ruri watches carefully.
Ruruka looks at me.
"Fine," she says. "Go check the dungeon."
I pause as she adds, "I'll stay with them."
There it is. I let out a slow breath, tension easing just enough to feel noticeable, even if it doesn't last.
"I knew I could count on you," I say.
She scoffs. "You owe me."
That's becoming a pattern, but for now it's a solution—and I'll take it.
*****
End of Chapter 11
RETIREMENT STATUS REPORT
Owner: Ren Arclight
Former Occupation: Demon King Slayer / World-Saving Archmage
Current Occupation: Manager of Unstable Domestic and Dimensional Issues
Peaceful Life Goal:
Remain unnoticed, avoid responsibility, and maintain a low-cost lifestyle.
Today's Activities:
*Returned home after Guild interrogation
*Analyzed dungeon anomaly (missing core)
*Confirmed abnormal dungeon behavior via Ruruka
*Requested external assistance (reluctantly)
*Maintained temporary domestic stability (anime containment)
*Prepared mentally for unavoidable escalation
*Received unexpected family visit (Ruruka arrival)
*Attempted to explain dragon children origin (failed)
*Admitted to almost cooking anomaly-class objects
*Assigned babysitting duty to highly capable A-rank sister
New Developments:
*Dungeon anomaly confirmed (core absence despite boss defeat)
*Ruruka verified abnormal dungeon state
*Dragon daughters fully integrated into household
*Karin exhibits curiosity-driven destruction tendencies
*Ruri maintains stabilizing influence
*Hikari displays unpredictable but non-hostile behavior
*Ruruka now aware of entire situation (high risk, high support)
Household Status:
Stability: Temporary
Supervision: Delegated (Ruruka)
Chaos Probability: Increasing
Peaceful Retirement Stability:
100% Before Doorbell
0% Dragons Hatched
–9000% Public Exposure Risk
–30000% Financial Collapse
–60000% Dungeon Incident
–100000% Guild Involvement
–150000% Family Involvement
–200000% Reality Breakdown
Current Retirement Status:
Functionally Irrecoverable
Immediate Consequences:
*Ruruka fully informed of anomaly-level situation
*Responsibility transferred (temporarily)
*Ren forced into anomaly investigation
*Risk of escalation beyond dungeon classification
Operational Assessment:
Mission Outcome: Stabilized (temporarily)
Execution Quality: Questionable but Effective
Emotional Status:
Fatigue → Acceptance → Mild Panic (Suppressed)
Future Outlook:
Severe Escalation Imminent
Archmage Personal Statement:
"I should have just made omelette."
Reality's Response:
"The eggs were sentient."