The moment Draven gave his answer, Aldric clapped his hands once.
"Alright then."
Without another word, he strolled into the kitchen as if he owned the place.
"Let's see what she was cooking…"
He lifted the lid off the pot. Steam rose, curling into the air. He leaned in, sniffed, then dipped a finger into the broth and tasted it.
"…Not bad."
He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the entire pot, tucked it under one arm, and opened the humming refrigerator with the other. Cold air spilled out. He pulled out a couple of bottled drinks, examining the labels with faint amusement.
Draven watched him in silence.
The glow of the television in the living room. The steady hum of the freezer. Electric lights. Running water.
He had Elira's memories of such things. He understood what they were.
But seeing them here—after forests, blood, mana, monsters—felt wrong.
Is this really another world…?
For a fleeting second, doubt brushed his mind. Could this simply be another region of the same world?
No.
The memories were clear. Different continents. Different histories. Different heavens.
It was not the same.
Aldric noticed the stare.
"You want one?" he asked casually, lifting a bottle slightly. "They're pretty good."
Draven said nothing.
Aldric shrugged. "Suit yourself."
He walked into the living room, pot in one hand, drinks in the other, and dropped himself onto the couch beside the unconscious girl.
He glanced at her.
"…Awkward."
With a lazy wave of mana, he lifted her gently and placed her onto the opposite couch. She settled there, breathing steadily.
He grabbed the controller from the table and pointed it at the large screen mounted on the wall.
The television flickered to life.
"It's been years since I last watched TV," Aldric muttered, leaning back.
Lyriana stepped into the room, arms crossed.
"…Is this why you were insisting we stay?" she asked calmly. "All that talk about rest and strategy."
Aldric blinked.
"Huh?"
She gave him a flat look.
"To watch television."
Aldric scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
But he didn't turn it off.
Draven stood near the doorway, twins in his arms, mana still folding endlessly inside him like a coiled storm.
The cat shifted atop his head.
The screen cast flickering light across his face.
For a brief moment—
It almost looked like something close to normal.
The sound of footsteps descended from upstairs.
The maid appeared at the base of the staircase, posture straight, voice calm.
"My lord."
Draven's gaze shifted toward her.
"I have prepared the bath."
There was no hesitation in her tone—no question.
Draven glanced down at himself.
Blood. Dried and fresh. Dirt. Torn fabric. The faint shimmer of unstable mana crawling beneath his skin.
Without a word, he took a step forward.
The maid turned immediately.
"I will lead the way."
They ascended the stairs together—her steps silent, his measured, controlled. The cat remained perched on his head. The twins rested in his arms, blinking sleepily beneath the dim house lights.
Lyriana watched them disappear down the hallway above.
Then she slowly turned her gaze back toward the living room.
Aldric was sprawled across the couch, one leg hanging off the side, drink in hand, eyes on the glowing screen like he hadn't a care in the world.
"What about you?" Lyriana asked evenly.
"Huh?"
"You should also take a bath."
Aldric blinked at her, genuinely confused.
"Why would I need to do that?" he replied, tone suddenly refined and almost aristocratic. "It's not as though my body is dirty. I can cleanse myself with mana."
He gestured lazily with his free hand, as if that settled the matter entirely.
Lyriana's eyes lowered. Slowly. Very slowly.
"To be clear," she said flatly, "you should go upstairs, wash properly, and take off that nonsense you're wearing."
Aldric looked down at himself.
The knight's uniform he had taken from a corpse days ago was still on him. The insignia slightly torn. The fabric stretched in places where it didn't quite fit his build. Dried blood darkened parts of the sleeve.
He removed the bottle from his mouth and inspected himself again.
"…I think it actually looks kind of good on me."
Lyriana stared.
"I don't need new clothes," he added, taking another sip. "It gives me character."
"You look like a moron," she replied without missing a beat.
Aldric froze mid-sip. He slowly lowered the bottle.
"…That was unnecessary."
"You broke into someone's house," she continued calmly. "You killed a soldier at the wall. And now you're sitting on a stranger's couch in stolen clothes that don't even fit you properly."
A pause.
"Go take a bath."
Aldric stared at her for several long seconds.
Then he clicked his tongue.
"…You're both unreasonable."
But he stood up anyway. Mutters under his breath as he set the bottle down and stretched lazily.
"Fine. But I'm telling you, mana cleansing is superior."
Lyriana didn't respond. She simply watched as he shuffled toward the stairs, still grumbling about how "uncultured" they were being.
The television continued playing softly in the background.
Upstairs, the sound of running water began to echo through the quiet house.