The night was calm and gentle, with four moons glowing above, their soft blue light wrapping the world in comfort.
On a quiet hill stood a little home, its windows glowing warmly like lanterns in the dark. Owls hooted, crickets sang, and the midnight air carried a song of peace.
Then, breaking the silence, came a cheerful little voice.
"Mmm! Smells so good."
At the wooden table, a pot of noodles sat in the middle, its steam curling upward, filling the room with a mouthwatering aroma. Beside it waited four bowls, neatly set and ready.
Emelia sat on her chair, still small enough that her chin almost barely reached the table's edge. Her tongue peeked from her lips as she gripped a spoon, clumsily trying to scoop the slippery noodles.
From behind, her mother stepped closer, chuckling softly at the sight. With gentle hands, she replaced the spoon with a pair of chopsticks.
"Emelia, what are you doing?" she said warmly. "Here, sweetheart, try it this way. Hold it like this."
Her mother gently positioned Emelia's tiny fingers, guiding them into the proper grip. But Emelia struggled, her little hands trembling as she tried to control the chopsticks. With a soft slip, one stick tumbled from her grasp.
Before it could even hit the floor—
Zeke—sitting quietly beside her—snapped it up with his own chopsticks, not even glancing away from his bowl.
Emelia's eyes went wide in awe, Their mother paused, just as surprised, her brows lifting at her son's reflexes.
Zeke, still calm and collected, placed the chopstick gently into Emelia's palm. His gaze, however, never left his bowl. With an almost stoic expression, he lifted a mouthful of noodles and slurped them down slowly, the only sound breaking the silence.
Yet, deep inside his thoughts, his reaction betrayed him. "Mmm… this noodle is amazing."
Across the table, their father was already halfway through his serving. Unlike Zeke, though, his expression said it all—eyes closing with satisfaction, lips curling into a wide grin as if the noodles were the best thing he had ever tasted.
Not for long.
His mother walked slowly toward the chair beside his father and sat down, her face glowing with joy as she watched her family enjoying the meal she prepared.
Meanwhile, Emelia no longer struggled to hold her noodles. Her mother had cleverly fixed her chopsticks—wrapping them with tape and attaching a small clip between the sticks—making it easier for her little hands to control without any effort.
Not for long...
"How was school today, my little sweeties?" A warm smile curved her lips, as she asked calm and graceful.
"Good," Zeke replied simply.
But his little sister immediately burst out, her voice bubbling with excitement.
"School was sooo cool today!" she squealed, her eyes sparkling like fireflies.
"There was a parade in the village! Marching iron people their boots shaking the ground. And then these really pretty people on horses."
"And oh oh! I saw a tall women with very long ears..." She squealed out as she stood in her own chair while acting to stretch her ears.
Their parents smiled with calm, gentle grins as they listened to Emelia's excited tale, even though they were completely clueless about what she meant. After all, neither of them had heard anything about a parade happening in the village today.
Then their mother asked, tilting her head slightly toward zeke.
"How about you Zeke?Did you also enjoy the parade?"
Zeke froze mid-bite, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
"Hm?.. ohh," he mumbled, cheeks already full of noodles.
"Actually, it wasn't really a parade." His words came out muffled, his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk as he tried to chew and talk at the same time.
"It was just some students from the Golden Continent Academy visiting our school earlier."
His parents' eyes widened, curiosity sparking between them.
"Ohhh, really? What was the reason for their visit?" his mother asked, her voice calm though her brow furrowed slightly.
Zeke slurped another mouthful of noodles before answering, his tone casual.
"Well… I don't know if they came for us. But from what I saw, they seemed to be in a hurry—heading south."
The room grew quiet. His parents exchanged a glance, their smiles fading just slightly.
"Ohh…" his mother murmured, her voice trailing off.
They chose not to press further. Instead, the sound of quiet slurping returned, filling the space. Zeke bent over his bowl again, eating as if nothing weighed on his mind.
Then—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sudden rapping at the door broke the calm. The knock echoed again, steady and impatient. Zeke rose before his mother could stand.
"I'll get it," he said, his voice flat as he pushed back his chair.
He walked slowly to the wooden door, the floor creaking under his steps. With a pull, the hinges groaned—and there he was.
Zeke's face instantly dulled, his expression going blank as if all emotion had drained away after seeing a familiar face.
Standing in front of him was a man in a worn brown leather coat, maid Zeke's stomach twist.
"This brat," Zeke muttered in his head, his eyes narrowing.
At the same time, the man's brow furrowed, and his own thought hissed back: "This jerk."
They locked eyes, neither moving, both bristling silently in perfect unison.
"What are you staring at?" they both thought at the same time, the air crackling with unspoken rivalry.
For bit moment
"Zeke? Who is it?" his mother's gentle voice floated from the dining table, cutting clean through their silent standoff.
Zeke's gaze flickered away, his calm expression returning, though the faintest twitch of annoyance pulled at his lips.
He forced his tone lighter, calling back, "Ohhh… it's Uncle Fric—" he cleared his throat.
"I mean Fred. Uncle Fred is here, Mom."
His voice suddenly coated in false friendliness, the kind that carried just enough edge to hide a smirk.
mother rose from her seat and walked over, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Ah, Fred," she greeted softly, her smile gentle. "It's been a while."
Fred instantly dropped his tough act, flashing a big grin as he scratched the back of his head.
"Hehe, yeah… been busy, you know. Thought I'd drop by."
Her mother raised a brow. Then she added
"Ohh, did you already eat, brother? We have plenty of food on the table," she asked kindly. While zeke besides her gazing seriously at him.
Fred shook his head, waving a hand. "Ohh, it's fine. I only passed by because there's something I wanted to talk about."
Her eyes softened, her voice calm as ever. "Come, join us. We can talk at the table. There's still plenty to eat."
Fred sighed, shoulders dropping in surrender. "If you say so!" he laughed, stepping past the doorway.
Zeke's lips stretched into a forced smile—so wide it looked painful—only to collapse a second later into a dramatic frown as Fred walked past him.
Fred's footsteps echoed through the room .
Not long after.
The sound of Zeke's bowl clinked softly in the dining room, each scrape of his chopsticks against the porcelain echoing louder in his ears than anything else.
Around him, the voices of his parents and his uncle blended into a low hum while staring at Fred, sharp and serious, like a deadly predator.
Words were being spoken—laughter here, a question there—but Zeke didn't mind it, they were nothing more than muffled murmurs.
Until... his little sister leaned across the table.
"Uncle Fred, do you think I look like a princess?" she asked sweetly, her chopsticks wobbling in her small hands.
Fred chuckled,
"A princess? Hmm… nah."
He leaned back with a teasing grin. "You look more like a tiny puppy, Emelia. Small, yet playful ."
her eyes widen, mouth open in a round "ohhh... I like puppy" she slowly said as her eyes sparkling exaggeratly.
Fred laughed along... but then his smile froze... His eyes drifted to his right… and there was Zeke who's sitting beside.
Fred hadn't said a word. He just sat there, as there eyes locked, unblinking seriousness as Zeke's chopsticks slowly lifting noodles from the bowl.
"sluuuuuuuuuuurp!!" The sound stretched unnaturally long, echoing like a vacuum cleaner.
Zeke's eyes never left Fred's, not even for a blink, the noodle dangling and disappearing in exaggerated slow motion.
Fred's face twitched. He cleared his throat, after he muttered in his head
"Heh… well, if Emelia's a puppy…" he glanced at Zeke, who was still slurping with deadly focus
"…then this thing right here is probably a hyena." he muttered in his mind as sweat drifting down in his face.
For a brief moment, Zeke broke their gaze. Without a word, he dipped his chopsticks back into the bowl, grabbed a massive tangle of noodles, and shoved them into his mouth.
His jaw worked furiously, noodles flying, broth dripping down his chin like he was in some kind of noodle-eating contest only he knew about.
Everyone froze, their eyes widening at the sudden outburst. Emelia covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, their father blinked in confusion, and Fred just stared, half horrified and half discussed...
Time passed quickly.
The table once filled with steaming dishes was now nearly empty, only scraps and the faint smell of broth left behind. Their parents' talk had stretched from light chatter to quiet plans for the coming days.
Fred stood outside the wooden door, tugging at the collar of his worn leather coat.
"Thanks for the food," he said with a faint smile. "I guess… let's meet again someday, somehow."
Turning away, he stepped slowly onto the dark road. The night swallowed his figure, shadows stretching long beneath the moonlight.
From the doorway, Aveloria lifted her hand, waving softly.
"Goodbye, Fred…" she whispered, her voice carried away by the quiet wind.
And with that, he vanished into the path leading back toward the village.
The house grew calmer once he left, the evening settling into a gentle stillness...
***
"Hoooh! My tummy's so full I can't even lie down," Zeke groaned, one hand clutching his belly.
The door creaked open.
"Hm?"
His mother stepped inside, her gaze soft—eyes carved with the quiet care only a mother could hold. At once, Zeke's expression changed, as if someone had flicked on his good boy switch. She walked to his bedside and sat gently, her hand stroking his hair.
"Do you need anything before sleep, Zeke? Maybe… a bedtime story?" she whispered, her voice like warm velvet.
Zeke forced a smile. "Nah, I'm good. I'm not a baby anymore, Mom."
Her chuckle was light, yet her hands stilled. As though remembering something, she bent down and reached beneath his bed. When she straightened, something rested in her palms.
"Ta-da."
Zeke's eyes widened. "…A teddy bear?"
His throat tightened. That toy—he knew it too well.
"Where did that—wait… that's mine?"
His mother puffed up her voice dramatically, pretending to bellow:
"Do you still remember me, Zeke? I'm the one and only… Mr. Teddy Joseph!"
She burst into laughter. Zeke returned a chuckle, but it was stiff, strained. How the hell did she find that? I thought I threw it away…
Her smile softened again, eyes shimmering with memory. "When you were little, you'd carry this everywhere. You'd play for hours, lost in that wild imagination of yours."
Finally, she stood, bent down, and kissed his forehead. From the doorway, she glanced back, her voice lowering to a tender whisper:
"Good night, my sweet boy."
The light clicked off. The door shut.
Zeke exhaled, his cheeks aching from the smile he had forced too long. Silence wrapped the room as he stared at the ceiling.
"Imagination… huh?"
Moonlight filtered through the window, glinting across the teddy bear's chest. Zeke lifted it into the pale glow. Letters, faint yet deliberate, were stitched into its fabric.
"…Joseph," he whispered.
His lips curved, slow and sharp, into a grin.
"Oh, right. How could I forget…" A low chuckle escaped his throat.
"That used to be my name—
once.
When I was the God's Assistant."