After watching the convoy disappear down the street, I turned around and headed inside the house.
Though not before pausing near the front gate.
My gaze drifted toward the far end of the neighborhood where a faint glint briefly caught the evening light.
A camera lens.
Or something close enough.
I sighed.
"Are they really that desperate to get information from us?"
The distant flashes vanished almost immediately the moment I looked in their direction.
As though whoever was hiding there had suddenly remembered the concept of subtlety. Shaking my head, I continued inside.
And immediately walked into… whatever Anathasia was doing.
"Hm..."
She stood in the kitchen holding a frying pan in one hand.
Not cooking.
Not cleaning.
Just... examining it.
Like an archaeologist studying an ancient artifact. She noticed me standing in the doorway and immediately looked over.
"What took you so long?"
She lifted the pan slightly.
"I was about to ask you and Fran to buy groceries for dinner."
"Just said goodbye to the convoy."
I stepped into the kitchen, my gaze drifting toward the frying pan.
It looked surprisingly well-made. The kind of pan that could probably fry an egg perfectly without turning it into scrambled disappointment.
"Right?"
Anathasia placed it back on the stove.
"I asked Hinami about the best frying pans these days."
"Oh?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"What did she recommend?"
Instead of answering, Anathasia simply pointed toward a large unopened box sitting on the counter.
I followed her finger.
The box displayed a picture of a cookware set alongside several lines of Japanese and English text. And above everything else—
A logo.
Printed in bold.
*Kithia.*
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
"...Kithia?"
Anathasia nodded.
"Apparently Mingyuan thought it'd be interesting if Kithia started producing kitchenware too."
She shrugged casually.
"Something about expanding Kithia Corp's ecosystem."
"Or creating product integration."
"Or some other CEO thing."
"Not really sure."
I stared at the box. Then rubbed my temple. Then stared at it again.
"Mr. Mingyuan's hobbies are getting ridiculous."
My gaze drifted toward the window.
"It started as a clothing brand."
Now it felt like Kithia was slowly conquering entire industries out of boredom. I glanced back at Anathasia.
"Is that why I keep seeing articles about Kithia sales increasing by absurd percentages?"
"Probably."
She pointed a finger at my chest.
"But enough about global capitalism. Go buy groceries."
I paused for a moment, then laughed quietly.
"Fair."
"What are you even planning to cook anyway?"
Anathasia tapped her cheek thoughtfully.
"Maybe curry."
A pause.
"Maybe fish."
Another pause.
"Maybe both."
"You sound pretty confident, huh?"
"I like improvising."
"Fair enough."
She looked proud of that answer. I left the kitchen before she could elaborate further.
Passing through the living room, I spotted Fran sitting on the couch with a notebook in one hand and her phone in the other.
She was writing rapidly while occasionally glancing between both. Anathasia suddenly appeared beside me and peeked around the doorway.
"Actually..."
She lowered her voice.
"Maybe we should just go ourselves."
Her eyes settled on Fran.
"She looks busy."
"Yeah."
I nodded.
The two of us watched quietly for a moment.
Fran looked completely absorbed in whatever she was working on. The kind of concentration that only appeared when deadlines were involved.
Eventually I called out.
"Fran."
"Hm?"
She didn't even look up.
"We're heading out for groceries."
"You coming?"
"Sorry, Dad."
Her pen kept moving.
"Still writing down tomorrow's agenda."
She tapped her notebook.
"If I don't organize everything now, I'll probably trip over my own schedule tomorrow."
I hummed.
That sounded reasonable.
Beside me, Anathasia watched her with the unmistakable expression of a proud mother. The kind that appeared whenever Fran was being responsible.
"Alright then."
I waved toward her.
"Take care while we're gone."
"We won't be long."
Fran nodded absentmindedly.
"Okay."
Then immediately returned to writing.
"You have my full permission to rewrite anyone dumb enough to break into this house out of existence."
Anathasia gave her a thumbs-up.
"Mom."
"What?"
"That's not normal advice."
"It works though."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Then headed for the front door before the conversation could somehow become worse.
Outside, the sky had already turned golden. The sun hung low near the horizon, painting the streets in warm orange light.
A cool evening breeze drifted through the neighborhood.
I closed the gate behind us. Anathasia stood beside me with her hands tucked behind her back. Waiting patiently.
"Rewriting someone out of existence?"
I sighed as we started walking toward the local market a few blocks away.
"Really?"
"Think of it like what happened with TCA."
Her tone remained casual. The breeze stirred her silver hair as we walked.
"No one remembers they existed."
"No one remembers the mission."
"Even the narrative itself stops acknowledging them unless we deliberately bring them up."
I kept my eyes on the road ahead. The evening sky slowly darkened above us.
"The Non-Representation Principle."
"Exactly."
Anathasia smiled.
As though discussing the complete erasure of someone's existence was perfectly normal dinner conversation.
Knowing her...
It probably was.
—
By the time everything finally went dark, Anathasia and I were already heading back home. Or at least, that was what should have happened.
One moment we were still walking down the street. The next, we were standing directly in front of our house.
"Right..." I muttered, glancing sideways at her.
I carried two massive grocery bags while Anathasia carried absolutely nothing.
"Cutting down space-time or something."
She reached for the doorknob and opened the front door.
"I haven't seen you do that in twenty years."
I followed her inside.
"Or at least drag me along with it like you used to back in college."
Anathasia paused. Then gave me a strange look. After a few seconds, she simply shrugged and continued walking.
"I just didn't want to."
Her voice was casual.
"And besides, I like taking our time now instead of rushing everywhere like we did back then."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Like when you were speedrunning our relationship?"
Flick.
Her finger struck my forehead immediately. Not hard, but just enough to sting. I rubbed the spot with a grimace.
"I was making sure nobody stupid enough tried their luck."
"That was completely unnecessary."
Anathasia scoffed.
Then continued toward the kitchen.
Halfway there, she stopped.
The living room was illuminated by the television. Fran sat on the couch, completely focused on what looked like a documentary.
Anathasia's expression softened instantly.
"She works so hard..."
"True.
I nodded.
"She definitely takes after me."
Then I glanced at her.
"You're way too lazy."
The moment the words left my mouth, I immediately turned around and headed straight for the kitchen.
Strategic retreat.
For several seconds, Anathasia remained standing in the doorway. I could feel her staring at me. Even as I placed the grocery bags on the countertop and began unpacking everything.
Vegetables.
Fish.
Seasonings.
More vegetables.
Then—
A familiar presence appeared behind me.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear what you said earlier."
I glanced sideways. Anathasia peeked around my shoulder before reaching into one of the bags.
"Anyway."
She started sorting through the ingredients.
"Carrots. Potatoes."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Did you buy the roux?"
Without answering, I pulled out a gold-wrapped cube from one of the bags.
The rich savory aroma immediately escaped into the air.
"Here."
Her eyes brightened.
"Nice."
An instant later, a sky-blue apron materialized around her waist. She gathered her hair behind her head and tied it into a ponytail.
"You prep the vegetables."
She picked up the fish.
"I'll figure out what to do with this."
"Sure."
Even while answering, I was already pulling out the chopping board and kitchen knife from the cabinet beneath the counter.
Within minutes, the kitchen settled into a comfortable rhythm. The steady *thunk-thunk-thunk* of a knife against wood. The sound of running water.
Plastic wrappers crinkling.
Anathasia humming something completely off-key.
Normal sounds.
Ordinary sounds.
The kind that somehow felt more valuable than all the impossible things we'd seen throughout our lives. For a little while, neither of us spoke. We simply worked side by side.
Minutes later, dinner was finally ready.
I went ahead and set the table while Anathasia carried the finished dishes over one by one. Once everything had been arranged, she stepped back and gave the table a quick inspection.
Then nodded.
"Looks good."
Even as I tucked the knives and other utensils back into the cabinet beneath the countertop, the aroma of curry and grilled fish still lingered throughout the kitchen.
"Smells good too," I added.
Anathasia glanced back over her shoulder.
"Doesn't it?"
She placed both hands on her hips.
"I'm still a good cook, you know."
A small laugh escaped me.
"You've always been a good cook."
For a moment, she looked oddly pleased with herself. I walked past her and lightly ruffled her hair. The carefully tied ponytail immediately became slightly less organized.
"Hey."
She fixed it with an annoyed huff.
"I'll call Fran over."
"Mhm."
She continued adjusting her hair.
"Tell her dinner's getting cold."
Leaving the kitchen behind, I stepped into the living room.
Fran was still sitting on the couch. Only now she wasn't writing.
Instead, she leaned back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling while quietly muttering to herself. A notepad rested on her lap. Her phone remained in one hand.
"Delinquency, huh..."
She tapped her pen lightly against the page.
"That's the core discussion objective..."
"Fran?"
The moment I called her name, she immediately looked over. Almost guiltily, as if I'd caught her in the middle of something important.
"Yes, Dad?"
"It's dinner time."
I smiled.
"Take a break."
She opened her mouth. Probably to say she was almost finished. Then thought better of it. After a brief pause, she nodded.
"Got it."
Setting both the notepad and her phone aside, she stood up and stretched her arms above her head.
A quiet groan escaped her. The kind that came from sitting in the same position for too long.
"Honestly..."
She rolled one shoulder.
"I didn't think preparing for a student meeting would be this tiring."
"That's because you're taking it seriously."
Fran paused.
Then smiled faintly.
"I guess."
Together, we headed back toward the dining room. The smell of curry grew stronger with every step.
And by the time we entered the kitchen, Anathasia was already sitting at the table.
Fork in hand while staring at the food. Waiting patiently for approximately three seconds.
"Can we eat now?"
"No."
Anathasia slumped forward dramatically.
"Cruel."
"You've been waiting less than a minute."
"Still cruel."
Fran laughed quietly as she pulled out a chair.
For a little while, the discussion about student councils, international meetings, delinquency issues, and everything else waiting for tomorrow faded into the background.
For now, it was just dinner.