By the time the door closes behind Ruruka, the apartment settles into a strange kind of silence—not the peaceful kind, but the kind that exists right before something inevitably goes wrong.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the door, letting the quiet stretch just a little longer than necessary, like I can delay whatever comes next by pretending it hasn't started yet.
The dungeon is dealt with—for now—and Ruruka is handling the report. Which means, technically, I'm free.
That should feel relaxing.
It doesn't.
Because I can already feel three separate sources of chaos behind me.
I let out a small breath and turn slowly.
Three pairs of eyes meet mine—bright, curious, waiting.
…Yeah.
This is worse than the dungeon.
At least the dungeon tried to kill me directly.
I walk over to the couch and drop down beside them without ceremony, letting myself sink into it like I've already accepted defeat. "One problem solved," I mutter, leaning back slightly. "They better not call me again unless everything's already over. If they drag me back into it, I'm going to crash out."
It's a solid plan.
A very good plan.
One I fully intend to follow.
…Until reality inevitably ignores it.
Hikari immediately climbs onto my lap like it's her assigned seat, settling in without hesitation. "Hikari's seat," she declares proudly, as if this has always been an established rule.
"Of course it is," I reply, not even questioning it as I adjust slightly so she doesn't slip.
Ruri shifts closer and sits neatly at my side. Her posture is still proper—back straight, hands placed carefully—but I can feel her leaning just a little against me, her head tilting ever so slightly.
She's tired.
That much is obvious.
She probably spent the entire time making sure her sisters didn't destroy the apartment—or each other.
I glance down at her briefly.
"Tired?" I ask.
She nods softly. "A little, Papa."
Yeah.
That checks out.
Karin, meanwhile, is the exact opposite.
She's standing on the couch, completely immersed in the anime, mimicking the protagonist's movements with far more enthusiasm than accuracy. Her foot nearly slips once, but she recovers like that was part of the performance.
"Take this!" she shouts, swinging her arm dramatically like she's actually in combat.
I watch her for a moment, letting the scene play out.
Then I sigh.
"It's fine to be excited," I say, "but please don't burn the house down."
She turns toward me with a wide grin—one that is, frankly, more concerning than the Titan Guardian I just dealt with.
"…Right," I mutter. "I'm going to regret saying that."
I lean back into the couch, adjusting my position slightly so Hikari stays balanced while Ruri continues resting against me.
For a brief moment… things are stable.
Which is exactly why I don't trust it.
So instead of waiting for the inevitable, I shift my focus to something else.
The drops.
I open my storage interface, letting the familiar arcane overlay settle into my vision like a second layer of reality.
The items line up neatly: Arcane Metal, Superior Mana Core, Essence Crystal, and Arcane Beast Organ—the last one essentially being the Titan Guardian's metal heart.
I pause slightly at that.
"…That's not something you casually carry around," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
Leaning forward a bit, I rest my elbow on my knee while keeping one arm loosely around Hikari, who doesn't seem bothered in the slightest by the fact that I'm currently evaluating something that could probably get me flagged by half the guild if I wasn't careful.
"This is good," I admit quietly. "Really good. Like… suspiciously good."
A-rank materials. High value. High demand.
And unfortunately—high visibility.
That's where the problem starts.
I narrow my eyes slightly, running through the possibilities. Selling this myself is a bad idea. The moment I do, questions follow. And questions lead to attention, and attention leads to responsibility—
—which is something I avoid with remarkable consistency.
Professionally.
I sit there for a moment, weighing options instead of rushing it.
Then it clicks.
"…Ah."
Aaron.
I lean back again, a small, satisfied expression forming. If Aaron handles it, everything becomes simple. He's the Guild Master—he deals with high-value materials regularly, no one questions him, no suspicion, no extra steps.
No paperwork for me.
Perfect.
"…I'm a genius," I mutter under my breath, because in this specific situation, I absolutely am.
I take out my phone and send a short message:
"Ruruka will explain everything. I have a favor."
Then, without overthinking it, I activate a small ward-based transfer and move the items directly from my storage to his.
Clean. Efficient. Minimal effort.
Exactly how things should be done.
A few seconds later, my phone buzzes.
Aaron: "Master, what are these?"
"Loot," I reply. "Sell it. I don't want any suspicion."
There's a short pause.
Then nothing but dots.
I stare at it for a second, then nod to myself.
"That's a yes."
Problem solved.
I put my phone down—
—which is when Hikari immediately looks up at me, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Papa, what are you doing?"
"…Adult stuff," I reply casually, not thinking too much about it.
That is a mistake.
Her eyes light up instantly. "What is adult stuff?"
I freeze for half a second.
Right.
I should've seen that coming.
"…Things you don't need to worry about," I say, attempting to redirect.
"But Hikari wants to know."
Of course she does.
I glance at her.
Then at the ceiling.
Then back at her.
There's no escape.
"…It's complicated."
"What kind of complicated?"
"…The kind that involves money."
"What is money?"
I close my eyes briefly.
…Yeah.
This is happening.
I exhale slowly and resign myself to it, shifting slightly so she's more comfortable on my lap before starting.
"Money is… something people use to trade for things they want," I begin, keeping it as simple as possible.
"Like food?"
"Yes."
"And toys?"
"Yes."
She pauses for a second, thinking very seriously about it.
"And Papa?"
"…No," I reply immediately.
I pause, then add, "Definitely not."
That earns a very serious nod from her, like she's committing that to memory.
The explanation continues longer than expected.
Much longer.
By the time I'm done, I feel like I just explained basic economics to a very curious dragon.
Which is exactly what happened.
Eventually, things calm down again, or at least settle into something that passes for calm in this apartment.
Then Karin speaks.
"Papa, is dinner ready?"
"…No."
She immediately runs to the table anyway. "Food!"
"…I didn't say it was ready," I add, already knowing it's completely pointless to correct her at this stage.
I let out a quiet sigh and stand up, carefully adjusting Hikari in my arms while reaching down to lift Ruri, who has already fallen asleep against me without me noticing when it happened.
She's light.
Too light for someone who just spent all that time holding everything together.
I shift her slightly so she's more comfortable, making sure not to wake her too abruptly as I carry both of them to the table. Hikari, as expected, makes no effort to move on her own and simply tightens her hold like she's already decided this is her permanent position.
"Dinner," I say.
That's apparently enough to wake Ruri, who blinks slowly before straightening just enough to sit properly.
Karin is already seated, waiting like she's been there the entire time, hands on the table and eyes locked on where the food is supposed to appear.
I head to the kitchen and prepare something simple—burger steak and soup.
Nothing complicated, nothing that requires too much thought or effort. Just something reliable.
Something that works.
When I bring the food out, they immediately start eating.
Karin dives in with full enthusiasm, completely focused on the food.
Hikari talks between bites, somehow managing both at the same time.
Ruri eats quietly, still half-asleep but trying to maintain her usual proper posture despite it.
I sit down and watch them for a moment, letting the scene settle in.
…They're fine.
For now.
I lean back slightly, letting out a quiet breath as everything catches up to me—the eggs, the transformation, the chaos… and the responsibility that somehow landed on me overnight without asking for permission.
"…I'm stuck with this, aren't I?" I mutter under my breath.
No one answers.
But I already know the answer anyway.
They think I'm their father, and whether I planned it or not… I'm the one responsible now.
Not because they're cute.
Definitely not because they're cute.
…That's just a minor factor.
I rub my temple slowly, exhaling through my nose.
"…If I'm doing this, I might as well do it properly," I add, more to myself than anything else.
Which leads to the next problem.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
I take out my phone, pause for a second like I'm reconsidering my life choices, then type:
"How to be a proper dad for beginners."
I stare at the screen for a moment.
Then sigh.
"…Yeah," I mutter. "This is my life now."
I stare at my phone longer than I should, thumb hovering mid-scroll like delaying the inevitable will somehow make it disappear.
It doesn't.
The search results stay exactly the same, lined up in neat, unhelpful confidence.
"How to be a proper dad for beginners."
I lean back into the couch, letting my head rest while my arm drapes lazily over my eyes, but I keep scrolling anyway. If I ignore this, nothing changes. If I deal with it, everything changes.
Neither option is appealing.
So naturally, I pick the one that causes slightly less regret later.
"Always be present… support their growth… teach them properly… correct them when they make mistakes… reward them when they do well…" I read under my breath, slower this time, actually processing instead of skimming past everything like I usually do.
It sounds simple when written like this.
It definitely isn't.
"…That's a lot of effort," I mutter, though my thumb is already moving, typing notes out of habit.
Because if I'm stuck with this—and I am—then doing it halfway will just create more problems later.
Efficiency isn't about doing less work.
It's about doing just enough work so you don't have to redo everything twice.
I pause mid-scroll and glance up.
Three pairs of eyes are locked onto me.
Of course they are.
Hikari leans forward first, curiosity practically radiating off her. "Papa, what are you doing?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.
Karin immediately follows, already more interested in whether it's exciting than what it actually is. "Is it something cool?"
Ruri stays quiet, but she's watching carefully, the way she always does when she's trying to understand something instead of just reacting to it.
I look at them, then at my phone, then back at them again, like I'm trying to decide which situation is more dangerous.
"…I'm studying," I say.
That is technically true.
"What are you studying?" Hikari asks without hesitation, already leaning closer like this is something important.
I pause for half a second before answering.
"…You."
That was a mistake.
Hikari's eyes light up immediately, her posture straightening like she just received official recognition. "Hikari is important!" she declares proudly.
Karin leans forward right after, suddenly fully invested in the topic. "Are we strong?"
"That's not—" I stop midway, already realizing correcting that would take longer than just going along with it. "…Yes. You're strong."
That satisfies her instantly.
Ruri tilts her head slightly, thinking instead of reacting. "Papa is learning how to take care of us?"
"…Something like that," I admit, keeping it vague.
And for some reason, that's enough.
They straighten almost immediately. Karin actually sits properly, Hikari focuses on eating without talking every few seconds, and Ruri continues being… Ruri, calm and composed like always.
I stare at them for a moment, narrowing my eyes slightly as I observe the sudden shift.
"…This is suspicious," I say.
No one responds. They just continue eating like this is completely normal behavior.
I don't trust it.
But I'm also not about to question something that's working.
So I let it pass.
I return my attention to my phone and continue reading, this time more carefully, actually organizing the information instead of just collecting it.
"Provide basic needs… food, shelter, clothing… education…" I read quietly.
That one makes me pause.
Education.
I type it down, then stare at the word longer than necessary, tapping the screen once like that might somehow make the responsibility smaller.
"…Right," I mutter. "That's not optional."
I scroll again.
"Maintain emotional connection… communicate… support… guidance…"
I slow down, actually thinking through each one instead of skimming past them. It's not complicated, but it's not simple either—not in practice.
Then I scroll a little further.
And stop.
"…Get along with their mother."
I blink.
Then look at the screen again, just to confirm I didn't misread it.
"…Where am I supposed to get a mother?" I mutter, staring at the words like they personally offended me.
That's not a minor detail.
That's a major system requirement.
I lean back slightly, thinking it through, but the more I think about it, the worse it gets.
I don't socialize.
I don't go out.
I don't talk to people unless absolutely necessary.
And even when I do, it's usually for something short-term and efficient.
I glance toward the mirror for a second.
Objectively speaking, I look fine.
That's not the issue.
The issue is everything else.
"…Yeah, that's not happening anytime soon," I conclude, pushing that problem onto future me. "That's his problem now."
By the time I look up again, the kids are already done eating.
And somehow, without me noticing when it started—they cleaned up, brushed their teeth, and are now heading toward the bedroom.
Peacefully.
I watch them walk away in silence, trying to process what I just witnessed.
"…That worked?" I mutter, still not fully convinced.
I lean back further into the couch, exhaling slowly as the realization settles in.
"…That actually worked."
So they can behave.
They just choose not to most of the time.
That's important information.
Very important.
"…Keep them happy," I say quietly, committing it to memory. "That's the key. Or at least part of it."
Simple.
In theory.
After washing the dishes, I return to the couch and pick up my phone again, this time reviewing everything I've written instead of searching for more.
Emotional needs.
Practical needs.
Structure.
Consistency.
Responsibility.
I go through each one slowly, thinking about how it actually applies instead of just reading it like earlier.
"…Food, shelter, clothes, school…" I mutter.
School.
That one stays.
No matter how much I ignore it, it doesn't go away.
I lean back, staring at the ceiling as I mentally review my current situation.
This place is quiet, peaceful, with low-level gates nearby and just enough income for a single person. Minimal disturbance, maximum comfort—perfect for doing absolutely nothing.
But that's exactly the problem.
"…This doesn't work anymore," I say quietly.
There's no proper school nearby, no daycare, limited access to resources. The grocery store is small, the mall is far, and everything that used to be 'good enough' suddenly isn't anymore.
I exhale slowly, already knowing exactly where this line of thought is heading, even if I'd rather pretend it isn't.
"…Yeah," I mutter under my breath, more out of resignation than agreement.
I need to move. Somewhere better. Somewhere with an actual school, better access, more options—somewhere that isn't built around a lifestyle that only works if I'm alone.
And that leads directly to the next problem.
Money.
Of course it does.
It always comes back to this.
I stay still for a moment, staring at nothing in particular as that reality settles in properly instead of just brushing past it like I usually would.
"…If I want money," I mutter slowly, "I have to work."
I pause.
That is an unacceptable conclusion.
I frown slightly, like the statement itself offended me.
"…I don't want to work," I add, as if saying it out loud might somehow change the outcome.
It doesn't.
Unfortunately.
I run through alternatives anyway, just in case something magically appears.
It doesn't.
No shortcuts.
No loopholes.
No convenient solution that lets me keep doing nothing.
And eventually, the obvious answer comes back whether I like it or not.
Dungeons.
Fast.
Efficient.
Reliable.
And incredibly annoying.
I let out a long, tired sigh, dragging a hand over my face before letting it fall over my eyes again, blocking out the ceiling like that somehow helps.
"…Dear slow life," I mutter, voice flat as I address absolutely nothing, "why have you forsaken me?"
Silence answers.
Of course it does.
I stay like that for a moment, eyes closed, letting everything settle into place—not overwhelming, just… consistently inconvenient in the most persistent way possible.
"…Yeah," I say quietly after a second. "I really have to work now, don't I?"
*****
End of Chapter 14
RETIREMENT STATUS REPORT
Owner: Ren Arclight
Former Occupation: Demon King Slayer / World-Saving Archmage
Current Occupation: Full-Time Father (Unqualified)
Peaceful Life Goal:
Do nothing, avoid responsibility, and survive comfortably.
Today's Activities:
*Prevented further domestic combat escalation
*Explained basic economic systems to Hikari
*Delegated suspicious A-rank materials to Guildmaster
*Prepared dinner for three growing dragons
*Observed successful behavioral conditioning (temporary)
*Researched "how to be a proper dad"
*Accidentally initiated self-improvement protocol
*Identified critical need for education system
*Realized current living conditions are insufficient
*Acknowledged financial limitations
*Reached unavoidable conclusion: employment required
New Developments:
*Children respond positively to attention-based reinforcement
*Ruri functioning as emotional stabilizer (essential unit)
*Karin exhibits high combat enthusiasm (uncontrolled)
*Hikari displays curiosity-driven learning behavior
*All three capable of rapid behavioral adjustment (conditional)
*Parenting requires continuous effort (unexpected)
*Presence of "mother" identified as missing variable
*Housing no longer suitable for current family size
*Financial demands increasing rapidly
Household Status:
Structure: Stable (temporary)
Chaos Level: Contained
Supervision Required: Constant
Peaceful Retirement Stability:
100% Before Doorbell
0% Dragons Hatched
–10000% Financial Stability
–50000% Lifestyle Compatibility
–100000% Dungeon Involvement
–300000% System-Level Problems
–500000% Parenting Responsibility
–999999% "Do Nothing" Plan
Current Retirement Status:
System Failure
Immediate Consequences:
*Need for stable income source
*Potential relocation required
*Future education planning necessary
*Increased dependency (x3)
*Higher exposure to guild operations likely
Operational Assessment:
Mission Outcome: Successful
Life Status: Complicated
Efficiency: Decreasing
Responsibility Load: Increasing
Emotional Status:
Denial - Resistance - Acceptance - Mild Regret
Future Outlook:
Work Required
Archmage Personal Statement:
"I didn't retire. I got reassigned."
Reality's Response:
"New objective unlocked: Raise children successfully."